ARTHUR OF THE ROUNDISH TABLE

ARTHUR & THE SWORD FORGED FROM THE MAGIC STONE (CH-2)

2010-02-19T03:11:00.000-08:00

THE HERMITAGE

The boy/man arrived at the hermitage and showed the horse the beaten up corral the old man had built decades ago; just an old donkey residing there. Ralph did not seem to mind and he seemed to be familiar with this ass, so Arthur led him in and closed the corral door. He used the old rope-latch but he knew it would not hold if this giant steed grew tired of his temporary quarters.

The Steed must be tested, Arthur thought. A trust must be tested. A more experienced horseman would not take such chances. But a more experienced horseman was not next in line to become Dux Belorum.
With plenty of hay and water in the stall, the horse would fare well through the night. Arthur entered the humble abode and found the old man waiting.

Well Arthur, a big night and a glorious new day. Come sit down here, pointing to an old pillow-like pile resembling a chair. This is your bloody thrown for the night. Ha

Francis got up while the boy/man sat down and found an old cup. After spitting in it and wiping it out with an old cloth, he filled it with his own brand of meade made from the honey he gathered twice a week from bee hives in the area. There was a warm fire in the hearth with smoke escaping through a strange opening to the sky in the corner of the rustic room. Francis called it a chimney which was a strange fixture in this new land.
Your time is not yet come Arthur, Francis said while handing him his meade. But it will be here soon. Word has it that Ambrosious is dead and Uther, the new king is severely wounded in Coritani somewhere.

You know that this is where the real blood is, do you not Arthur. You were born not more than seventy five Roman miles from this place.

Tintagel, Francis is a grand castle on the coast, at the point, at the ends of the earth for the Celtics and the Romans.

That's right Arthur. Igraine is your mama. You know this. Now you might have heard that your father was the late great Gorlois, Grand Duke of Cornwall.

Yes I have heard of such things though I have never met mama. Arthur was warm now, and comfortable. He was always at ease in this place and felt it so remarkable that Francis would offer him his famous meade. It might have been the remarkable events that he had witnessed that night. It might have been the discovery of his new steed, the gift from the gods, or it might have been the meade that made Arthur so elated. And he always loved the stories from Francis his favorite monk.

But Gorlois is not your father; for he died a night or two before you were conceived. Uther is your father and you are Uther's only son. You are to be the new ruler, you are the once and future king of Britannia, Arthur.

But that would make me a bastard!

Francis, Arthur pondered, do you mean that I am the product of a one night stand? Are suggesting my mums was a whore? I mean would or should there be some period of mourning after your husband dies? What the hell is Igraine doing, sleeping with Uther while Gorlois body lies steeped in blood and still warm?

Well it's more complicated than that. You know son, when a man loves a woman very, very, very much the two....

Francis...

Yes Arthur...

I have been watching chickens, horses, cows and canines fuck since I was first able to ambulate on legs. Whom exactly do you think you are addressing?

Okay, look. I will tell you the entire story.

Uther kind of took a...er...real liking to Igraine. Gorlois, her lawful husband, was disturbed by all this. So when two men have designs upon one woman, they take the only logical course of action.

They go to war with their armies.

Well after much todo along with the loss of a score or two of young men, Gorlois was found impaled upon some mace a farmer had discarded years before upon the battlefield.

And Uther, knowing that Igraine was not that kind of girl, came to Merlin with a plan. Remember son, men of honor always come up with plans. Anyway, Merlin disliked the entire proceedings leading up to all this. He chastised Uther for losing all these good men when the barbaric pagan Saxon dogs were running helter skelter across his island.

Uther asked if he could 'approach' Igraine at the Castle Terrible in the guise of Gorlois. "Guise of Gorlois"...pretty good. You gotta admit, I have the gift. Anyway, Merlin says Okie Dokie, but if there is a child born following this tryst, I get the baby. Got it?

Uther agreed upon a solemn oath. He knew Merlin liked the youngun's but...well I mean Merlin's gifts were of use so many times that your father overlooked some things.

So Uther went into the Castle Terrible in the guise of Gorlois . So your mumsy was not and is not a whore.

The end.

Tell me this Francis. Do I look more like Gorlois or Uther?

Do not really know Arthur. Never met either gentlemen.

No, son, not under our old laws; for your father, Uther married Igraine within the time of the full moon following your conception. It was a secret ceremony recognized by our Celtic clergy. And a sacred document attesting to this ceremony is currently in the possession of Merlin.

I must, I must immediately rush to my father's side to defend my nation....Arthur attempted to get up which was not impossible in his condition but Francis feigned to hold him down.
No no no. Do you trust me?
...

DO YOU TRUST YOUR FRIEND FRANCIS?
Yes I do, for whom else is there to trust during these perilous times? Replied Arthur.

You now have a steed if you can keep him. You also need a sword and a shield. I have a saddle for you and some rigging to carry your material needs. You are strong and sharp and you have already learned the secrets of the forest and how to fend for yourself.

You must begin a quest. A quest for your sword and your shield and some coin....I mean some coin would be a fine idea.

But Francis, my father is Dux Belorum for chrissakes--both men blessed themselves--and I would receive all the armaments and such that I would ever need.

Arthur, listen close. Please. There are men with lean and hungry eyes at your father's side right now. If you were to appear at the battle site now, before certain things are accomplished, the Saxons would be the least of your problems. Besides, under your logic, you could just have gone to the battlefield without a horse.

But I needed MY HORSE.

Yes, and the Good Lord provided, did He not?

After blessing himself, the boy/man contemplated all of this. How long should this quest of mine take?
Within two full cycles of the moon, Merlin shall arrive here to escort you to your destiny. But it was I who had an angel come to me in a dream and foretell of all these amazing things. And the presentation of Ralph as come to pass as well as just your presence here tonight.

Was that the little red headed sweetheart from Gloucester that was visiting last year at this time following your biannual sale of meade to the local hostels there?

No Arthur, and if you ever speak of this again I shall...I shall never speak with you again. Even old monks need some ease and comfort at times. I mean winny the ass starts looking pretty good after a couple three months and....

NEVER MIND ABOUT THAT. Now son, you know of the mysteries of metallurgy, do you not?
Merlin showed me the ways of Hephaestus and Ernie the Sludge apprenticed me for two years. Did you know he had this secret room at his works where he kept this hunchback dwarf woman. And he would tell me stories of how she had two sheaths, so to speak and...What a smelly godless peasant was he...but he was so clever with the use of ore and we used to make the finest swords....
I have an idea..Yes, Francis I shall go on a quest upon my new mount and I shall return having completed all my tasks within the time of the cycles of the two moons.

Agreed?

Agreed, replied Francis, smiling now as he filled both cups with the last of the meade and as he took out his lute:

                   OH MY BRITANNIA*

What has happened down here, is the times 
have changed.

Romans be long gone and the Saxons startin
to gain.

Saxons comin real hard, and they gainin for
a real long time.

Saxons comin down harder in the old 
Domnonian Plains

The Saxons raid all day, and they raid all 
night

Some people got lost in these wars, some 
people got away all right

Our soldiers have been slain clear up to 
Coritani

Some have landed in the fields of
Tintangeline

Oh my Britannia, Oh my Britannia

They're trying to scare us away, 
they're trying to scare us away

Oh my Britannia, Oh my Britannia

They're trying to drive us away, 
they're tryin to drive us away

Old Duke Ambrosius come down here, in
a big parade

With a Seneschal asking if more of our 
hardy boys would lend a hand

Ambrosius say "Seneschal, oh isn't 
it a shame,

What the Saxons have done to this 
great Celtic land."

Oh my Britannia, Oh my Britannia

They're trying to scare us away, 
they're trying to scare us away

Oh my Britannia, Oh my Britannia

They're trying to drive us away, 
they're trying to drive us away

They're trying to drive us away, 
they're trying to drive us away

Arthur awoke with a head on and proceeded 
outside to respond to his immediate call 
to duty.

This is dangerous. I could poke someone 
in the eye with this woody and do some 
real harm; where are the Saxon dogs when
you need one, he thought.

Oh saints preserve me. This is the dawn 
of a new era. With that thought, almost 
fearfully, he snuck a peak 
at the corral. Sure enough, there was Ralph.

Hey Ralphy. How ya doin? You know I could 
have returned your favors from last night 
if I had only thought about 
it two minutes ago. Hahahahah

Arthur went over and stroked the majestic 
animal's brow. Ralph snorted kind of a 
harrumph his way. Ha

You aint agoin nowhere are you, your majesty?

As any good guest would, and to work the sleep 
out of his bones--as well as some of the left 
over meade--he chopped up some wood on the old 
stump in back of the hut and carried it inside.


He got that fire going again and did 
that feel good.It is strange how a fire can 
warm the heart and dry the dew from a man's 
clothes, he pondered.

The old man began to stir, probably feeling 
safer as a result of the warmth from the emanations 
of the hearth. Tossing off the covers made of skins,
Francis knelt in prayer.

Arthur cooperated as he always had when he witnessed
a member of the clergy acting out of piety instead 
of hypocrisy.

Lord of Hosts, hear my prayer

We ask not for You to slay our enemies

We ask instead for the inner strength

The inner fortitude to perform in the 
face of immediate danger

To perform so that we may maintain 
our land

To perform so that we may maintain 
our family

To perform so that we may maintain 
our customs

This boy/man is about to seek 
full manhood

This boy/man is about to earn his rightful 
knighthood

This boy/man is about to be crowned a king

This boy/man may represent all our hopes 
and dreams

Help this Arthur in his quest

Help this Arthur find his best

Amen

Oh and Lord

Please give those heathen 
Saxon dogs no quarter.

Francis fed Arthur some porridge made of locally 
ground grain cured with a little boiling water 
and topped with some honey. 

An apple finished off the feast and the two 
proceeded to the corral. Ralph was fitted with
a saddle as well as a bit, 
of which the steed was none to fond.

Blankets and packs were attached to this self 
sufficient system of travel. The old monk included 
dried meat as well as some grain.

A simple bow and an old rusted sword would make 
the ride easier.

How do I repay such kindness Francis? Yesterday I 
was a boy alone in the forest. Today I am fitted 
as a would-be knight.

You shall thank me by completing your task and 
returning by the end of the second cycle of the moon. 
The goddess Luna shall watch over you but shall 
heed the movements of Luna.

Arthur kissed the hermit on the cheek and led his 
new steed toward Gloucester.  His first task lies in 
that direction and he knew he needed the old Roman 
Via to complete it.

At last the once and future King had a singular
purpose.
 
A quest takes many steps, and the first steps, 
important steps had been taken.

ARTHUR & THE SWORD FORGED FROM THE MAGIC STONE

2010-02-19T03:03:00.000-08:00

The fields had been so quiet. So quiet you could hear a peasant smothering his second wife to death with a feather pillow in the adjoining county; if you were into that sort of thing.

There was no wind. When it is like that, the stars kind of stare down like they are waiting for something to happen.

Oh there was half a moon and yet, with not a cloud in the sky, the stars stared down, waiting. Time stands still when this happens. No one ages. Arteries stop clogging. Hate dissipates. Only REM sleep continues only it takes people to fantastic places not known in a world normally filled with doom and gloom.
Am I awake? No wind, no clouds, no bugs. My god I am surely dead.

Somehow he had ended up in this field of clover. He certainly felt damp. But not from a rain; he was damp from the dew.

Oh I am in trouble now.

He recalled some things Merlin had taught him about those magnificent stars. There was more to this map of far away suns than just the two bears containing the North Star.

He recalled something about Orion and Orion's placement in the sky at this time of year and the number of bells on the grand clock at Glastonbury. The stars had something to do with the time of night besides the seasons.

It is just a little past midnight, the boy surmised. In late summer the sun would set around 9 bells.

There are omens. He looked at the northern sky and there were these auras; gently streaming waves of light with a bluish white hue.

And he saw a miracle. A falling star appeared, speeding to earth in a magnificent arc as if it had been plucked from Orion's Belt. As it disappeared just over this mighty hill to the West, there was this explosion. It could not have landed that far away because he heard the sound of thunder soon after the glow from the explosion dissipated. Arthur sat watching in wonder.

THE DAWN OF A NEW AGE APPROACHES.

Arthur arose and walked toward a pond some fifty paces away. The pond was so still and its water acted like a large mirror. As he arrived to the edge of this magic pool, a fish jumped not ten yards away diving back into its liquid homestead; causing perfect concentric circles to spread over the pond.

Hoooooooooo hooooooooooo ....an owl

Well the fish and the owl tell me that there is life here. I am not in the land of the dead. But how did I get here?

Arthur had walked toward to east to reach the pond. The North Star told him that much. Staring across the pond to the east he saw a tail of smoke rising beyond. Now he knew where he was, he thought as he washed the sleep from his face. Wooooooo. Chilly.

He turned toward the south to walk the edge of the pond and proceed east to the old hermit's home; the hostel at the edge of the forest. Francis would be growly, but what else is new? Ha the old fart will be happy to see me.

Never leave the fortification without your sword, without a magic coin and without your horse. A horse. That's fine unless you are fourteen and they will not let you have a horse to call your own. The horse was the symbol of knighthood.

Alexander had the magic Bucephalus which he earned when he was much younger than me. The mighty lad had tamed the greatest of the wild steed with neither saddle nor reins. The gods had presented Alexander with Bucephalus. The conqueror had led armies atop this steed at thirteen for chrissakes. (Arthur blesses himself)

Caesar had his magic Horse Pollix; Pollix had toes above its hooves like one of those monsters you would witness at the carnivals. Others would have eschewed such a deformed creature of God. But not Julius; he knew the gods had smiled upon him and his great future feats as the greatest of the Romans. And Caesar certainly would have had this magic stallion by fourteen, since he rode it as head of his family by his sixteenth birthday. No one else could ride that steed. No-no-nobody else.
Merlin had made him read this history reciting the importance of the mighty steed to the conquerors of history:

Every conqueror needs a distinguished horse which only he can ride. A number of classical sources note that Julius Caesar possessed such a horse, born on his own lands, whose front hooves resembled feet since they were divided in such a way that they looked like toes. This unusual condition was interpreted by a soothsayer as an omen that the master of such a horse would one day rule the world. Naturally, the horse would endure no other rider save Caesar. This observation in Caesar's ancient biography seems to recall the characteristics of Bucephalus, the wild horse tamed by Alexander, which provided that hero too with an oracle predicting world empire. In medieval romance, Alexander's horse becomes a horned creature so wild that it eats men. In a later medieval epic on Julius Caesar, in addition to unmistakable feet, his horse gains a fabulous horn on its head with which it can topple other riders and their mounts. A number of depictions survive in which this mythic horse (rather than its owner) is in sharp focus. A colourful earthenware dish of the early sixteenth century, which captures a moment in the triumph of Julius Caesar, appears to jettison the medieval horn in favour of a more rational spike attached to a harness, but all four of the horse's human feet remain clearly visible as it is ridden on parade by a youth, who carries a globetipped branch to signify that their master is ruler of the whole world

Arthur was fifteen on the morrow. Hell, I am fifteen now since it is after the midnight and...and...the omens tell me so.

Cai already had his horse. Once you had your own horse you were beheld as a real knight, a true knight whether properly vowed or not. Sometimes the oath would just be taken by the padre and seconded by the local duke at a later date. Cai had received both those honors.

But even Arthur, who had trouble with the ancient Lingua Latina knew that Rumpus was not a valiant name for a horse. And Arthur had told him so.

Look Cai, Alexander rode the Black Steed of the Gods, Bucephalus. Caesar had his grand Pollix.

But he learned long ago that Cai could be taught nothing. Horse shite for brains; that was Cai.

These thoughts always made his journeys shorter somehow. He could see the hermit's place on top of the small tor ahead. And then, he heard a snorting. What the f......

Just then he was blind sided, knocked down to the ground by a monster of some kind. Suddenly, he felt a strong flow of water upon him as he lay in a stupor. As he struggled to awaken from this traumatic trance, he knew it was not water. Shaking in anger he got to his feet.

WHO DARES ATTACK THE GREAT ARTHUR?

A giant horse stood face to face with the urine soaked blue-blood. Snort.........
Hahahahahhahahah

Who's that. Who the hell is that? Called out Arthur, carefully surmising this monster with the rudest of manners.

It is I, Francis.

Oh Francis it is good to see you. But doth thou seeeth what I seeeth?

I most certainly seeeth what just hath peeeth. ahahahahahah

Oh that's Ralph, Francis continued, the feral equine. He comes around here a couple of times a year. Ha, it looks like he has taken a liking to you. Always knew Ralph had no taste in humanity, except for feeding upon fallen soldiers from time to time of course. Hahahah

Arthur shrieked.

But he has taken a liking to you boy. He does not knock down and piss on any woodland fairy. hahahahaha

I shall be right back boy.

Ralph kept staring at the boy. Arthur stared right back. No frickin animal is going to stare him down. The two stood nose to nose for some time. Both of them were too proud to flinch. Ralph wondered what pride this youngster could still hold onto have bathing in the aftermath of his long drink at the pond.

All righty then boy, ask Ralph what he thinks about this, Francis instructed as he handed him a rope.
Arthur laid the rope over Ralph's head onto his neck, carefully; oh soooooo carefully; like he was awarding the horse with a wreath following the Kentucky Derby. Ralph did not even move. There had been an understanding of sorts reached between the two males. Arthur had almost forgotten the stink if not the chill shooting through his limbs from his soakened clothes.

Francis was astounded. He really had never seen anything like this before. Ralph had been most unsolicitous over the year the monk knew him. The animal would show up out of nowhere and walk the hermit's grounds like he owned the place. Francis at first took this as a hurtful gesture; as if the steed looked down upon the lowly man.

Francis handed Arthur the hooded robe he had brought with the rope. Go back to the pond, clean up and put this on.

The Once & Future King led the horse back to the magic pond, stripped and jumped right into the water. Ralph aint goin nowhere. At least he hath better not!

He knew that the slow wade through the pool was more painful than sucking it in and taking the leap. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH THAT'S COLD!!! JESUS H. CHRIST!!!

Arthur arose from the pond shivering and blessing himself. He had been cleansed of the sins that had recently been perpetrated upon him.

The mighty horse seemed to look askance at the shrunkin genetalia of the young teen and laughed with a mighty snort.

This is all your fault you know, the yet to be mighty Arthur said aloud to Ralph as he donned the hooded robe.

Ralph snorted some more.

Arthur led his mighty steed, the stuff that knights are made of, back to the hermit's quarters. But he could swear he heard a tune, a tune from that old student of Talesian as the two strolled toward their destination:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbUrv0UZWFI&feature=related

Francis was so taken by the horse's aplomb, that he would just put a bucket of grain and a bucket of water outside his door; he had so admired the freedom with which the steed moved. Where ever he wished? No prayer sessions. No worries about sinning and all that; certainly no table manners. The mighty steed, at times, would take some mouthfuls of oats, push the bucket over and run for the glen. Sometimes Francis thought he actually just took to this horse for his rudeness.

Gawain had once showed up at his hermitage drunker than a skunk which was as it always had been on a biannual basis for years; my Gawwwwwd that man smelled. (Blessing himself) Naturally, after filling the knight with sustenance he did not merit, Gawain passed out upon the straw floor. The next morning Ralph showed up on the sacred grounds.

The hungover parasite jumped through the window and went after the steed, the most beautiful steed he had ever seen to no avail.

Gawain is the worst of this new generation of noblemen, I swear Francis had exclaimed at the time.
The boy and his horse approached the hermitage.

(The end of Chapter One)
http://tpmcafe.talkingpointsmemo.com/talk/blogs/d/i/dikkday48yahoocom/2010/02/the-sword-forged-from-the-ston.php

NORTHCO-18: The Goddess of the Sptring

2009-12-08T06:39:00.000-08:00

In Greek mythology, the Naiads or Naiades (Ναϊάδες from the Greek νάειν, "to flow," and νἃμα, "running water") were a type of nymph who presided over fountains, wells, springs, streams, and brooks^[1].

And welcome to the corporate sponsored republican sponsored golf tournament of the century featuring 14 of the world's top 23 golfers in a field of 18. (What in god's name does that mean, anyway?)

Now as you know the proceeds from this tournament shall go to the Tiger Foundation.

Tiger will not be participating in the actual tournament. As you might already know, Tiger was in an automobile accident last week.

Oh so Tiger will not be 'participating'. Hahahahah thought Frank. Imagine; he is not appearing at his own goddamn tournament for his own goddamn foundation. Car accident my ass!

Frank liked to watch golf, mostly when he was when he was not otherwise involved and it seemed like he was not involved in much lately. Even if he decided to work all Saturday at his PC, he could still keep the telly on and listen to it as background.

And he liked to watch each golfer demonstrate his own idiosyncratic stroll around the golf course.

Tiger of course always looks like he is at war; on the battlefield. You would think that there were rumors of land mines planted on each fairway; yet our hero just could not be bothered with the issue of imminent death or injury and forges ahead and casting aside any threat to his person..

Michelson, the great white hope of course, kind of does an impression of the incredible Hulk. Boom, boom, boom...the earth shakes as he moves down a fairway. Frank remembered one tournament where V.J. Singh was complaining aloud of the damage the Great White Hope could accomplish just by hulking on the sensitive greens with over sized cleats..

And speaking of Singh; V.J. has this dance with his long legs. V.J. takes this lazy swing, almost a dance in itself. Such grace. Even when he slices one from the fairway, he kind of swings his iron with aplomb; more displeased with his stroke than cursing his fate.

Harrington by the way, with ancestors who knew not how to spell Patrick, kind of lunges down from the tee like Michelson but more like he is about ready to jump right into an Irish Jig.

What makes me wish to vomit however, is when the winner of the tourney thanks Jesus for the win. Perry and Cink are the latest examples of this blasphemy, this idiocy. I mean why in the fuck should Jesus, Our Lord & Savior, give one shite who wins a tournament put on by the rich, of the rich and for the rich? Oh yeah, because one percent of proceeds go to some rich medical foundation. You call that tithing?

And thinking of golf; there is nothing more exemplary of the hubris of mankind than a golf course. I am man and I am now in control of all nature. No hedge shall be carrying an extra leaf. No reed from the pond shall extend to far above the waters. No tree limb shall extend unto the fairway that is not represented in that year's sanctified plans. And no fauna shall be aloud on the grounds that are not sanctioned by the Club.

It was like these rich slave owners took a piece right from the bible:

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. (Gen. 1-26)

Go out sometime with a real hunter. The kind of guy who climbs up in the tree house put together with some two by fours and painted plywood. He or she sits in the cold for ten hours. It is cold, there is brush and briers and twigs and branches. The modern day hunter who plays by the rules transports himself into 'nature'. We can get into the fairness of it all. I mean with these high tech rifles and scopes and even (in some places) the red light emanating from the scope onto the poor animal.

But the tree he or she waits in has not been molded or genetically designed. The natural grasses have not been mowed and seeded and watered and.........well you get the idea.

No a golf course is a perfect example of man taking full dominion over nature and the only manner in which nature can get back at this human hubris is by attacking with lightning and rain and flooding and all the good things nature does to the panoramic vista of the earth. Ha

Everything about a golf course is so goddamnable artificial.

On my last day here, in this godforsaken place, I would like to load up all the glowing armadillos and transport them to the most expensive Nicklaus planned golf course in the country, the week of some grand tourney, and let them go onto the pretend garden of eden. Then disburse the lot at dusk, Wednesday, and hope the new denizens greet the dawn at the first tee just as the Golf Channel is getting ready to film.

Oh and speaking of hunting, there is the vision of the mighty Stag, the ruling god of the forest. Come and get me he seems to say at times. And it is in our genes to take after HIM. To slay and to gut and to cook and to eat HIM. FOR THIS IS MY BODY, take ye and eat if you dare.

What the hell is genetic about three hundred dollar sticks and balls and the search for the holy cup?

Just then, in the midst of these profound musings, Frank heard the door bell.

Gentlemen. And I thought my Saturday PM would be a time of aloneness and contemplation.

Hello Frank. Let me introduce Mortimer from Pierre.

Hello Mortimer. Won't you both enter.

Frank showed them to the porch.

Are we consuming brewed hops or tea this afternoon, gentlemen?

Tea would do us both just fine.

Frank disappeared into the kitchen.

These are nice residences Langdon. I mean the homes are nice and the streets safe and all.

Well Morte, on the surface things seem to be quite suburban here. But this surface is similar to the way things looked on the economic front in '06. Underneath there is a boiling magma of evil, I am afraid.

Frank appeared with a tray full of goodies.

What the hell is this, I thought Julia had passed on Frank?

Oh, you had called last night and I like the kitchen. A place to put together puzzles you know.

Frank, we were just notified that Sphincter is missing. I think he is dead. Don't ask me why I think that, but I am sure from my sources that you will not see him againAnd from what our intelligence lets on, you are now number two at NORTHCO. Mortimer piped up.

I received a strange call the morning from the front office and I am to report bright and early to the fourth floor that does not exist, Mortimer.

You know these little white cookie thingies are quite good, noted Langdon. Are you telling us that there is some floor you have NEVER BEEN TO in your own building?

That is correct Langdon. Oh and these are scones, from Brittany; kind of a delicacy. Anyway, I told you last week that I happened upon that strange area or arena a few months ago. I do not even know the goddamn name of the man I am going to see gentlemen. I do not wish to become too personal here, but this is strange, even in the corporate world. Just remember, we are dealing with one NORTHCO installation here. I was present at one board meeting last year in New York; some presentation with this huge flat screen which took up the entire wall of the small auditorium. A man by the name of Farnsworthy presided.

Frank continued: I actually saw three different men there who looked just like Sphincter. And they had badges that said 'Sphincter'. I approached one of them. 'Harold Sphincter' the badge said. I greeted him and when I pointed out that we had our own Mr. Sphincter in South Dakota he looked at me funny and just walked away. And I was shot down every single time I approached anyone present with a question concerning NORTHCO's product. So I just gave up. You boys understand, every year they give me a raise. I just cannot take it any longer.

Langdon inquired: Have you communicated recently with this Algernon Flower Frank?

Yes I have. He has been gathering samples of substances in our basement warehouse under my guidance and direction. He is actually driving them to your BAC in Sioux Falls today, remarked Frank. Algie has really been hurt by all this, as you well know Langdon and ....I hope he is not a serious suspect in the death of his friend Thomas. Algie is a man possessed right now. He has real determination and is demonstrating that now.

I will call BAC on Monday. I had not heard this and it strengthens my faith in you Frank, Morte said.

Morte I think that there are real issues here concerning the environment at that the reports of these glowing trees and bushes along with the strange colored fauna demonstrate a real threat to our State. I was going to say community but if you are experiencing these problems all the way west of Pierre, we might be in the midst of an emergency. I have already notified the Feds at several different agencies. And with the new change in the Administration, I think we have an EPA that is serious about our environment once again.

Langdon, here is how I see it and I have done some research about all this. Now everyone speaks of the Land of 10,000 Lakes to the east of us. Wisconsin refers to them as ponds, of course. Haha But in point of fact Minnesota has about twenty thousand official lakes.

We have hundreds upon hundreds of lakes and reservoirs in our state together with the Missouri River system. Here is just an excerpt from a study examining one aspect of pollution in our lakes and rivers:

Chipps said the study helped answer why South Dakota first began to see high mercury levels in fish from some lakes in the years after about 2000 -- first in Bitter Lake, then in other lakes that include Highway 81 lakes, Lake Isabel, Lake Hurley, North Island Lake, Pudwell Dam, Roosevelt Lake, and Twin Lakes.

"By the time we got started with the research in 2004, we had about six lakes that had mercury advisories on them," Chipps said. "The question was, why do these particular lakes have high mercury concentration? Prior to that in South Dakota we really hadn't had any mercury advisories to speak of."

Though the health benefits of eating fish are well documented, human exposure to methylmercury from contaminated fish can pose a variety of health risks, with the severity depending on the amount of mercury consumed. The fetus and young children are considered much more sensitive than adults. Frequent exposure during childhood can damage the central nervous system and affect neurological function (with possible effects on learning, muscle development, motor function, and attention). In adults, high levels of mercury can harm the kidneys and brain and have also been linked to increased risk of cardiovascular disease.

Morte continued, that is just mercury as one pollutant and there are tens of thousands of pages written concerning the rising levels of this poison, its origins and its effect upon our citizens as well as our flora and fauna.

Now most people are aware of problems related mostly to sewage such as bacteria, viruses, protozoa, worms and other organisms. Depending on the levels found in our lakes and rivers, fishing is an industry that suffers immediately. But we begin to have real issues concerning our drinking water.

Nitrates and phosphates affect the growth of algae and other plants that affect the oxygen content of the water that can actually kill our children besides our fish.

Oil, plastics, and pesticides are just a few foreign elements coming from our own farms and manufacturers represent another class of pollutants.

Frank chimed in: this is all so complicated to those who do not deal with these issues on a daily basis. Shite, this is what government is supposed to study and is supposed to regulate. I mean in my little examination I noted that besides our river systems, natural and artificial reservoirs, lakes, ponds and marshes we are supposed to be worried about groundwater and water tables. It just goes on and on. And so we are discussing a water system. And it is like once something enters this system whether from our farmlands, our mining operations, our sewage systems...well the elements in all these entry points end up in the entire water distribution system. If something is added to the soil in North Dakota, it can easily end up in our drinking water. This information and study is all under some heading of hydrogeology or hydrology.

That is why I have attempted to alert as many agencies as possible Frank, responded Langdon. And I think some private environmental groups should be put on alert. I would like to see some independent tests done on the soil and groundwater. This is big. I mean if in fact NORTHCO or some other manufactures or some mining operations or some new damn fertilizer...or a combination of any of these activities have culminated in the kind of results I have been seeing here, the murders are least of my concern even though that is supposedly my primary purpose here.

Frank I have actually heard rumors that nobody at NORTHCO has children. There are reports of missing personnel. And I think that it is more than just coincidence that everything seems to center around NORTHCO. Otherwise why are all these problems occurring here? I sat with you within the last week and witnessed a squirrel with two heads and more than four legs, right outside that window.

Morte sat up and surveyed the lawn and pond outside the porch they were sitting in.

The three continued their discussion and Frank handed over some of the materials he had gathered from work; although he was still missing the files that he was sure were in the hands of Sean.

Have you guys seen Sean's dog? I mean they do not call him Sparky for nothing!!!

NORTHCO-17: The Attack of the Armadillos

2009-12-07T04:12:00.000-08:00

November 30, 2009, 11:30AM

Samuel L. Jackson

Pulp Fiction

Mortimer Young awoke pissed off. He was used to greeting Rosy Fingered Eos in that manner; had been for years.

Angela was used to it. Frisky at night, pissed in the morning. That was her mate for life; actually made her giggle after all these years. Suddenly she realized she had to get up and start putting Thanksgiving together. Worked on the 'full platter' all week, after all. Angela began smiling.

Meanwhile Mortimer was washing the ire from his six foot five frame. Oh yeah, he thought, Auntie Millie and Uncle Kevin and the rest of the crew. Ha!!! Actually, I kind of like Thanksgiving. Always fun to watch Detroit lose.

Nice ride actually, he thought, two hundred miles of straight driving to Sioux Falls and north from there. Seventy five miles an hour and it makes it a nice ride. Not much to see on the Plains in late November, really. I mean except for the firs, there is no green, there is no foliage, there is no snow, there is no sunlight, there is no....November.

The dinner yesterday had been tremendous. For once everybody was happy. These are the days as Ten Thousand Maniacs say.

There was one thing that nagged at him however. He could swear that the cooked turkey kind of glowed a faint orange as Angela brought it to the grand dining room table.

Mort arrived about three p.m.

Is Langdon here?

Sure is Morte, responded Sally. Langdon, wake the hell up. Your appointment is here.

How the hell are ya Morte?

Good Langdon. Get some turkey and some lovin' on your feast day?

The two entered Langdon's corner office and parked at the desk. Langdon reached into the drawer and pulled out some Wild Turkey along with two steel cups.

You heard about the guttings Langdon?

Yeah. You hear about the headless corpse?

For sure. I just had to come out here and see what you got. Mort pulled out a couple files from his brief case.

Langdon, here are the photos at the scene, close up even though we already emailed them to ya.

Yeah, I saw em. Hey how is Angela? My own true love you know. You stole her from me.

What can I say, I was always prettier than your sorry ass.

Hahahaha

We gotta blight Morte. A real blight. I mean we are seeing our animals glow in the dark for chrissakes. All the way from Pierre to Sioux Falls. And murders. Morte, we have this headless corpse and four other dead over the last five years or so THAT WE KNOW ABOUT. We have armadillos, fucking armadillos coming from the south in droves. Do you know I actually saw a two headed squirrel with six goddamn legs haunting one of the witnesses' abode and ...well here we are in the Great Midwest. Things like this are not supposed to happen here. AND I KNOW AND YOU KNOW THIS NORTHCO HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT ALL. ALL OF IT.

You may have something there Langdon. That is why I am here. Well besides the fact that I hate leftovers. The three hunters actually worked for the EPA. No kidding. I grew up with two of the three. They were investigating some strange chemical in the ground water. I do not even know what the fuck it was but they were upset about it.

Well Morte, we have the DOD to contend with, the EPA to contend with, the FBI and Homeland Security is on this and corporate America.

Did you speak with Jim at the AG's office yet?

Yeah. Jim is a good man and he is mad as hell. He told me on the phone that he won't even drink the water. Won't even drink the fucking water in his own home town!!! I mean it is like we are in Florida or some goddamn thing.

I got an insider here Morte. On paper he is supposed to be number three or some such at the South Dakota installation and do you know, even HE DOES NOT KNOW EXACTLY WHAT NORTHCO DOES? What the hell has happened to this country Morte? I mean isn't a company supposed to make things like cars and boars and wagons and guns and then market the damn things and then sell them through distributors. And then our people are hired on and we have America. Right? Sorry to rant Morte. Langdon finished his drink and against his better nature poured another Wild Turkey motioning to his friend.

Okay, but just a drop. I gotta tell you, we all live on the road in South Dakota but there is a dryness to a couple hundred plus miles. Hahahahaha

Morte, if they gutted the hunters this has to be a message of some sort. I mean it was state EPA and not the Feds, so we are once again supposed to cower to the corps and I aint gonna do that. There is an audit coming up and that will be enough for us to get a warrant and all.

The strange part of the gutting though is that there was no blood. No blood whatsoever at the scene, in the bodies, on the bodies, on the ground; I mean nowhere. It was like the blood had been taken from the bodies before the gutting even took place and we know nothing took place at the actual scene. My friends were killed somewhere else, a post mortem completed, and the bodies deposited there.

Morte, can you stick around till sometime tomorrow? You can stay at my place. We can see my insider tomorrow AM. What do you say?

Oh that's fine by me Langdon. I really do not feel like four hours of driving tonight. Besides this WT is acting fastly. Ha!!!

Algernon awoke on Thanksgiving Day, alone. Feast days meant little to him. They had for years meant little to him.

Mom had died of cancer ten years before. Dad had not spoken to him in 15. He had a little brother in Iraq. That was it. No real family to speak of at all. If Davey were back, they would be together, for sure.

He had become sick of hiding who he was. All through his childhood and into college, he had to pretend that he was one of them. Pretend to be someone else. Laugh with the guys when someone told a pussy joke. Hell, he even took Eileen to the prom. It was only later that he realized everyone pretends to be someone else. So what is the diff?

Besides he had been alone for so long. He was beginning to think he was going to lose any ability he once had to interact with people. He had found Thomas, the love of his life. And that was taken from him. And he knew who to blame for that. NORTHCO.

He would now spend all the time he could muster to destroy that company.

Algie lined up the vials, all seventy of them in the fridge. A cooler really with the temp set just right. Algie always kept the cooler in his home office area.

He carefully packed what he would need. He brought up the portable cooler from the cellar and he would drive to Sioux Falls in the morning. He had made an appointment with the State BAC. He had also prepared the memos at home summarizing his work over the last year along with test results he gathered from his work at NORTHCO.

Meanwhile, back in the forests surrounding the projects, Sean and Bernice from accounting were having a Thanksgiving Picnic. Just the two of them along with Sparky.

She was dressed in 17th century garb with all those women's clothes and Sean was dressed as the 17th century pilgrim with the high hat and all. The two had sort of been playing pilgrim games back at Sean's house but that is a scene not directly relevant to these proceedings.

Isn't it strange to picnic up here in the end of November? Sean inquired.

Well, 48 degrees along with a wonderful sun and no wind. This is paradise my love. Bernice noted.

Two huge baskets of the best foods available. They had dressed warmly and each had a small rug to protect them from the coldish ground. Besides they were only two blocks from Sean's house should any untoward wind arise.

Sparky was romping and running and running and romping. A few birds too stupid to believe in the great plague of winter fluttered in the trees. Sean could swear he even saw a butterfly.

As the two lovers toasted their tremendous luck in weather, A cabal of ten armadillos began coming toward them. Well, surrounding them anyway. As they were toasting with their red wine, Sparky returned barking up a storm.

Bernice was at first confused. But when ten more of the armored beasts showed up and ten more after that, her heart began beating too fast and her breath began to leave her.

Sean, on the other hand became angry. He did not become angry often. He usually settled for whatever he could get peacefully. What was the difference? You fight and claw your way through life, or you settle back and take what comes more easily. But lately events had caused him much consternation. His black outs were beginning to get to him.

Seeing the fear in Bernice he stood resolutely, his hat blown off by a mighty breath of wind and recalling Jules' misquote of Ezekiel, he raised his hands to the sky, and addressing the throng of threatening invaders made this pronouncement:

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."

Even Sparky was astounded at such goings on and immediately fell silent, looking in awe at his master. The beasts immediately disbursed.

Bernice and Sean gathered up their things and walked home.

NORTHCO-16: Shine Little Glow Worm, Glimmer, Glimmer

2009-11-30T08:16:00.001-08:00

November 19, 2009, 7:36PM

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hYVdpE4D-rI/RugYawsE2vI/AAAAAAAAAOE/LyCW7c9zSvw/s400/ang.jpg

Frank awoke as part of his sofa. He looked around and after a couple minutes figured out why he, not so deep down, wished he could just remain part of a sofa.

This vacation thing has got to end before it kills me, he thought as he slugged to the kitchen to fix coffee on his way to the toilet. And I also need new hobbies. A naked woman once in a while could really do me no harm he mused as he held his masculinity once more in his hand.

He grabbed his coffee and wandered toward his PC with a smoke hanging out of his mouth. Where is the packet? he thought. Oh jeeez it could be anywhere. Frank just got on line reviewing his continual NORTHCO memo when there was a knock at the front door.

As he opened the door a rather tall man with a fashionable hat and overcoat stood with his hand out.

Hello Frank.

The guy looked familiar so he simply shook his hand, and kept staring at him.

Remember me Frank?

Dr. Cliché?

You are not who you told me you were, to say the least.

Now why would you say that Frank? I thought we got along rather well.

You do not work at that hospital Doctor, if in fact you are a doctor at all.

Look Frank, do we have to stand in the doorway like this or are you going to offer your shrink a cup of Joe?

Frank thought about it.

What the hell. He said as he led the mysterious figure to his sofa and went into the kitchen for the coffee. When Frank returned, Cliché was at his PC.

Get the fuck away from there. I have almost had it with you Cliché. Now get out of my house.

Now wait a minute Frank, let us...look I do not work for the hospital, but I am a doctor. I assure you and Kevin called me at my clinic in Sioux Falls. I am here at his behest.

Then what in the hell were you doing at my PC?

I was just wandering around, honest. I know little about your work but Kevin consulted with me about your file. You are subject to seizures, loss of memory, and you are getting shorter for no discernable reason. And I have information concerning the tests performed on your clothes.

Well we will see about this Frank said while he put the coffee on the table in front of the couch and grabbed his phone.

Frank got Kevin on the phone and his physician confirmed everything Cliché had told him.

WHY DOES LIFE HAVE TO BE SO GODDAMN CONFUSING?

Cliché blessed himself and lowered his head as he sat down on the couch.

Algie had his lab coat on and was proceeding to the warehouse. Algie had his PhD from Columbia in bioluminescence as a particular and peculiar branch of biology. He had become particularly interested in the process of bioluminenscence in sea life. Algie had written a paper on the phenomena four years earlier for the National Biological Association:

Bioluminescent animals can be found at least half a dozen animal phyla. This includes bioluminescent cnidarians (jellyfish, coral, and sea-pens), ctenophores ("comb jellies"), arthropods (fireflies, glow worms, certain fungus gnats, millipedes, and centipedes), certain annelids, one species of snail, marine molluscs including certain clams, nudibranchs, octopuses, and squids, various fish, some brittle stars, a group of small crustaceans, all krill, 65 species of mushrooms, protists called dinoflagellates, and a large family of bioluminescent bacteria. The last three aren't actually bioluminescent animals, but they are bioluminescent organisms.

Bioluminescence occurs in certain animals where chemical energy (in the form of ATP) is converted into light energy, usually peaking around one portion of the spectrum, making it one color. Green is by far the most common color used by terrestrial bioluminescent animals, while blue is the favored color among bioluminescent animals in the sea. Every color on the spectrum has a bioluminescent animal or protein associated with it, but most colors are quite rare. The difference in favored color on the land and sea exists because different colors stand out in each environment, and the visual systems of animals in each environment are tuned to the local colors.

There are five accepted theories on why bioluminescent animals exist. These are that bioluminescence can perform the functions of camouflage, attraction (of prey, predators of would-be predators, and mates), repulsion by way of confusion, communication between bioluminescent bacteria (quorum sensing), and rarely, the illumination of prey (used by the Black Dragonfish). It can be hard to explain why certain organisms are bioluminescent, while with others, the reasons may be obvious.

For instance, in some species, like fireflies, bioluminescence is so integrated with the organism that it is an integral part of its lifestyle -- firefly larvae use it to repel predators, while adults use it to attract prey and signal to mates. Turn on a light bulb in an insect-infested area and you'll see the benefit of luminescence to attracting prey. Fireflies are extremely efficient at converting chemical energy into light -- they do it with an efficiency of 90%. In contrast, a typical incandescent light bulb is only 10% efficient. http://www.wisegeek.com/what-are-some-bioluminescent-animals.htm

What was so interesting about this is that the phenomena is sooooo great, it can be seen from space. That's right, the light created by these organisms is so great it has been picked up by satellite photos. http://www.lifesci.ucsb.edu/~biolum/organism/milkysea.html

Deep in the ocean, where sunlight can no longer penetrate, lies an incredible world of darkness. And against all odds, this just happens to be the location of one of nature's most impressive artificial light shows. The creatures here have evolved their own ways of dealing with the darkness. Through a process known as bioluminescence, they have developed the ability to use chemicals within their bodies to produce light. If you have ever seen a firefly then you have witnessed the same process in action. Bioluminescence is mainly a marine phenomenon. It is not found in freshwater. On land, it is seen only in a few species of fungi and insects. It is the oceans where this unique ability achieves its highest form. Hundreds of species of fish and invertebrates flash their colors in a light show that can sometimes rival the streets of Las Vegas http://www.seasky.org/deep-sea/biolumiscence.html

Bioluminescence should not be confused with Fluorescence. Bioluminenscence is the emission of visible light either voluntarily or involuntarily by a plant or animal.

Fluorescence is the involuntary emission of light when an organism is being subjected to ultraviolet light.

This is not some trick with ultraviolet light evoking mere fluorescence. These creatures create light through chemical processes. Certainly most of the light is produced from one celled creatures and the simplest of animals, the angel fish. But there are animals akin to something you would behold in some science fiction film:

The paper went to say:

Another process that should not be confused with Bioluminescence is something called tapetum lucidum. This process is commonly known as glowing eyes. When light enters the eye, it's supposed to hit a photoreceptor that transmits the information to the brain, Powell explains. But sometimes the light doesn't hit the photoreceptor, so the tapetum lucidum acts as a mirror to bounce it back for a second chance.

A large number of animals have the tapetum lucidum, including deer, dogs, cats, cattle, horses and ferrets. Humans don't, and neither do some other primates. Squirrels, kangaroos and pigs don't have the tapeta, either.

Although bioluminescence may be considered rare as measured by the total number of species, it is extremely diverse in its occurrence. There are many different types of organisms that produce bioluminescence, from microscopic cells to fish and even a few sharks. But there are no luminescent animals in higher vertebrates above the fish. Overall, luminescent organisms represent most of the major phyla. http://siobiolum.ucsd.edu/Biolum_q&a.html

So even though the tiniest once celled organism might be luminescent, pretty large animals like sharks could also have luminescence. But what if man intervened in all of this?

All cells have the ability to produce ultra-low levels of light due to oxidation of organic molecules such as proteins, nucleic acids, etc. Through a very long process of natural selection, the organisms we call bioluminescent have developed the ability to enhance light production through physiological, molecular, anatomical, and behavioral adaptations. All this because the bioluminescence imparts an important ecological advantage to the organism. It is the ecological context that provides the driving force for natural selection.

In order for an organism to use bioluminescence that has been artificially induced, several criteria need to be met. First, there should be an ecological role for the light emission. Second, there needs to be control of light emission. We know from the study of luminescent organisms that with the exception of bacteria, all organisms have precise control of light emission. To produce light for the wrong reason or at the wrong time is a deadly mistake.

There are futuristic visions of glowing Christmas trees, plants that light up along highways, or even crops that glow when they are thirsty, but this type of light emission doesn't have an ecological context. http://siobiolum.ucsd.edu/Biolum_q&a.html

It was this paper that caused NORTHCO to seek out Algernon and recruit him as a biochemist.

The property of this strange process was certainly chemical, but it was determined by one's DNA.

There were two different 'methods' of making an animal glow that was not originally predestined to glow at all. One method was to inject bacteria into the subject in such a manner as to infect the animal with permanent qualities of bioluminescence--hopefully without causing the animal any other type of harm.

The second way to change the organism was through gene splicing.

The biochemist simply changes the organism into another type of animal forever.And this new animal would reproduce other of its kind that glowed for all generations to come.

NORTHCO was involved in both types of experiments. And those experiments were going awry, to say the least.

(A new chapter appears here every Monday and Thursday, if you really can stomach this stuff, and previous chapters may be viewed at: http://forestroot125.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html )

NORTHCO-14: Motivational Speaking

2009-11-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

http://www.reviewsonline.com/images/ihs00/IHT00051.jpg

Langdon left Frank after a couple hours. It is harder when you do not have intimidation at your disposal.

Fuck subpoenas. What the hell is his probable cause anyway? He came to some conclusions on his way back to his office.

First, he would notify the FBI formally and informally. I mean animals who glow in the dark; maneating animals for chrissakes. And there is only one possible source of all this poison and NORTHCO is the only defense contractor in the area.

Second, he might just as well notify the Forest Service; state and federal. They must have reports on these strange goings on. He might as well pad their files. Besides, he might get some cooperation from them. If there is one place in government you can find real green nuts, it is in the forest services. Talk about tree huggers and they do not like wild droppings glowing in the dark.

Third, he will notify the state and federal EPA. They will wish to cya on this mess. They must look like they are doing something about all this. And with the killings in Pierre are putting this mess in the papers. Besides, there is a whole new ‘team’ running the federal EPA anyway and the old don’t ask-don’t tell rules are out the window.

Fourth, the state Department of Agriculture must get in on this. The blaming will begin soon. NORTHCO will start blaming insecticides and such for any disruption of the environment. But Agriculture will not like everything shoved onto its real constituency…the farmers. Besides, Langdon might get further cooperation from the ag guys and gals. If there is something fucked up about the environment, some evidence is bound to show up in the fields. And the state can deal with the feds on this one.

Fifth, it is a matter of procedure, but he must begin a discussion with the Attorney General’s office. See if the AG can help with some coordination of agencies in all of this. Besides, he seems to remember that Ralph had a little run in with NORTHCO on that murder last year. The wife had been the prime suspect but she ‘disappeared’ and he had the damnedest time getting any information from NORTHCO on anything. This corporate confidentiality coupled with the shield of national security made NORTHCO a more than formidable foe.

Sixth, Langdon thought that it would not hurt to call his old friend Clancy, Majority Whip in the State Senate. The entire frickin legislature is filled with hunters. I mean they cannot be happy about this.

Paper work is not a waste of time. Not at all. There are protocols and paper can open doors. It can also cover asses like Langdon’s. And of course, he was dictating all this on his hand held and of course it was at the same time being transmitted to Sally at the office.

He shoved in a disc and looked around. Something was wrong. I mean the sun was just setting. He looked at the clock…five o’clock. What the hell is this? It could not have been much past noon or one o’clock at the latest when he left Frank’s.

This is not the right road. This is the old road.

Meanwhile his radio was playing one of his favorites. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ib9I7vW0Ko&feature=PlayList&p=19A9583D35083FB8&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=49
What in the hell is he doing here? When things got like this, I mean when he was really rattled and alone,
there was really only one thing to do.

He pulled over the car to the shoulder and parked. He opened up his coat and thought of his aunt Silvia…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5HEHwYWDzE

Sometime later…

Whoooooooooooooooooooo. Now that’s how I spell relief.

Langdon cleaned up and buckled back up but as he looked out the window of the driver’s side, he saw two glowing balls. He lowered the window and saw two armadillos going at it.

WHAT IN THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO THE STATE OF SOUTH DAKOTA?

Meanwhile back at the office, Sean was cleaning up. This double work load was getting to him. Son of a bitch he thought. Just then Sphincter jaunted in on him.

Where the hell are my f-46’s &49’s. How do you expect me to run this place without knowing the personnel situation and the income for the week?

Normally, I……aw forget it. Here are the fucking forms, Sean said while he handed them to his boss. You know it’s not easy doing two jobs. We are only down four today…not bad for the flu season. Income is up but you already know that because we received the anticipated bonuses from DOD and Xe. So LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP.

Adrenaline does funny things to certain mammals. Sean was a wuss. But he knew he was a wuss. He certainly never wished to be a hero. It was too difficult attempting to separate the good guys from the bad, the wheat from the chaff. He just wanted a simple life. Get up in the morning in a decent abode. Grab some coffee while reading a little news. Then clean up and get to the office. At the office, receive your list of tasks for the day and then get the fuck out of there.

That’s it in a nutshell. Hope the corp does well so that you may keep your job. But do not take any of it seriously. Others were put on this planet to make a difference. Corporations were there to sell ‘stuff’. What that stuff would be, where the financing would come from….it really had nothing to do with him. Sean was always put in some slot where he would moniter certain aspects of the goings on and duly report variances and such to his superior. That is why it was so easy to work with Frank. He knew Frank really never gave a damn either. He was just happy to have someone like Sean around. Someone who performed the tasks demanded, refrained from bitching about anything, and reported certain matters off the record.

It is all a function of what Sean called the corporate proto-conscious. This crap about how somehow if I assume I make an ass out of you and as out of me. We are all asses, us humans and to pretend to be other than…well it’s the real stupidity.

You do not think about anything in particular when you take a shower, unless you are considering certain mammalian urges at the time. Of course you assume the water is the correct temp after testing it through the curtain or door. You assume where the soap is even when you drop it. You assume where the shampoo and the liquid soap are. You assume that when you step out of the shower the floor of the bathroom will not only be in tact as you exit but that it will be at a certain level. You of course assume where the fricking towel is….you are simply proto-conscious the entire time while your mind takes you to other times and places.

As a matter of fact, the way to start a bad day is to experience things that rattle your assumptions and throw you out of protoconsciousness. For instance, you get into the shower and reach for the soap and it is not there, it is not where it is supposed to be.

Or as you don your work shirt for the day, possibly following a conscious choice of the proper shirt, your third button breaks off. Oh good, now I must put my attention to mundane things. Shite….Now the soap placement as well as the shirt button have thrown you off your game. As a matter of fact, in your agitated state you begin to ascribe consciousness to the shirt and to the soap and to the toilet that will not stop running and…

Well you assume that if the computer print out says you have so much money that week available for personnel and supplies, then there is so much money so available. You must, as part of your assigned duties check and recheck the figures through other software and other contacts—or else have someone else whom you trust perform those duties. And that is the reason you were picked for the position you find yourself in with regard to the corporation. The corporation cannot, EVER, afford to have conscious people working on its payroll.

But you never question whether or not the particular duties ascribed to a particular governmental contract are good for the corporation, good for the governmental people involved, good for the public or good for the environment. That is against protocol, that is against corporate interests and, most importantly, that is in violation of specific terms of your employment contract. Hell that is anti-AMERICAN.

Sean thought about the motivational seminar held on the first floor auditorium on Tuesday. He could still see the broad with the fake smile looking like she belonged on a set with John Popeil. At least Popeil did not look like Andrea Mitchell. Here was this 55 year old woman attempting to look like she was 35 spouting all this crap about teamwork. The united purpose.

Like in Monty Python’s Holy Grail, the peons are piling the manure. And Eric Idle is complaining as he performs his important ‘job’; but as he spouts his discontent in Marxist Dialectic. As long as the son of a bitchin peon is piling the manure in the proper manner, let him spout. That is what I say.

Sean actually studied in High School and in his undergraduate curriculum. So he knew when she was quoting St. Clement of Alexandra or Ralph Waldo Emerson. Even Thorton Wilder was quoted:

See the lofty by reading, hearing and seeing great work at some moment every day.

Or even a Kraut by the name of Von Herder:

Without inspiration, the best powers of the mind remain dormant, there is a fuel in us which needs to be ignited with sparks.

This is so much bullshit. Thorton Wilder would have nothing to do with the modern day corporation any more than than Socrates would have anything to do with a Socratic Methodological Law School. I mean who decided that this crap works? The corporation does not wish to ignite anything. Hell if these employees woke up one day, I mean really woke up they would show up with automatic weapons and go completely postal.

Corporations have more rights than individuals. At least those corps run by the smartest part of the grand oligarchs. They hide their secrets better than cheney hid his treachery. Paper trails are prepared so that when something goes wrong—which means someone was caught—there is someone down the line to be properly blamed.

And too much motivation fucks up the works. In order to be motivated one should know what the product is and why the product is important to the public, or customer or governmental unit or other corporation.

And most employees in most corporations do not stick around all that long anyway. Five years is normal and ten years extraordinary. Yet the motivational seminars ask for true allegiance to the PLAN, to the AIMS, to the ORGANIZATION.

WHAT A BUNCH OF CRAP.

Therefore it is the hidden message in these seminars; actually several hidden messages.

Your production had better increase over the next thirty or sixty day period or you are out.

Your smile had better be more pronounced over the same period.

Your acknowledgement of fiefdom toward the company and your superiors had better be more pronounced.

Your subtle acknowledgement of fear, fear for your future, fear for future references, fear for loss of your paycheck better be present at all relevant times.

So the hidden message in all these seminars is FEAR.

WELL SOMETIMES I JUST GET SICK AND TIRED OF ALL THAT FEAR.

Sean thought all these things as he gazed upon the body of Sphincter lying in a pool of blood on the floor of his office. Ha. What a look this guy has. Even in death that damn sneer is more than just evident. As Sean caught his breath he looked down at the letter opener in his hand.

It had been a gift from his school mates in graduate school. Actually Fanny had given it to him. This simple office tool that few in management ever used, was shaped like a grand Saracen’s sword. It was curved and beautifully inscribed. Sean always kept it sharp and shiny. I mean it just slid right into this asshole’s gut, like those Ron Popeil commercials on cable. The ones with the knives that run right through a tomato or a loin so smoothly, like knife through butter at room temperature.

He gutted the corpse from the groin up to the rib cage and scooped all the innerts into the bag on the tiled floor.

Sean wiped the blood off the blade. Of course he licked it first. Just for the thrill of it. This was the third time in as many years. He suddenly looked down at himself and noticed the blood all over his clothes. Yuck.

But it had to be done. Zoey told him it had to be done. Oh and he was thirsty. Time for a brewsky at Castle.

Quickly he undressed, carefully folding his blood splattered clothes, before placing them in the garbage bag. He went into his office bathroom and showered. While in his robe he went into his closet and dressed for the second time that day. This time the shirt he had chosen worked.

Sean took the back stairs toting the garbage bag up to the fourth floor. He deposited the bag inside a door that said: CLEAN UP IN AISLE V. He took the stairs down to the first floor and exited the building, heading for the Castle.

Boy I could really use some of that fine house ale right now Sean mused.

Bernice had been waiting at the Castle for about half an hour, nursing her ale when a tall Black man came by and sat down at her table.

Hi, I am Zoey.

I’m sorry, Bernice blushed, but I am waiting for someone.

Oh Sean will be with us shortly Bernice.

How do you know me, my name?

Zoey slowly went into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pull out a badge. He opened it for Bernice to see.

It read simply: Security-NORTHCO Zoe Miller Head of Security

But I have been working for NORTHCO for five years and never met you.

I am around, as they say. 79 cameras just on the three floors alone Bernice. I just thought it was time that we met. There are only a few who I interface with during a typical week. Sean is one of them.

Oh. Bernice was a little confused over all this. And because of her recent meetings with Frank and Sean she was more than mildly suspicious of exactly why the head of security was introducing himself at this particular moment.

Is there any specific information you need from me, I mean in your official capacities? Bernice began working on her mug of ale with a little more intensity.

Oh, I just knew that Sean would be a little late; he is taking care of some last minute clean up for me.
And he told me that you might be meeting him later here. But, as long as we are here and all, how are things over in accounting?

Well Zoe, as you know we have completed a full report for shareholders on the fiscal year that just ended in September and now we must do a comparison to our calendar year projections. All these materials go to the independent auditor sometime in the next two weeks, you know.

A busy time Bernice I am sure. But I had heard that there was some problem with receivables. That is, there appeared to be a discrepancy between the monies sent from the government and the actual deposits.

I am surprised that security would deal with something like this Mr. Miller. I already had a meeting with Mr. Sphincter and his adjutant…I forget his name…yesterday morning. We thought that there was a problem at the bank. You realize we use a local bank—that is really owned by NORTHCO—and we have had scuffles with the principals there over a few issues including charges.

Well Bernice, that is what I heard. But this is for your ears only. Understand.

Bernice just looked at him.

I wish to tell you something that is for your ears only Bernice. Understand?

Oh, I am sorry, of course. Yes I am all ears.

Sphincter had a secret account at a bank in Michigan. We discovered some $350,000.00 there and we discovered a clerk at the bank who had a ‘special’ relationship with this Sphincter. It turns out that he has been funneling funds to that account for over two years.

Oh that does not make my department look real good, does it?

No Bernice, we checked you out. You are pure as the first snow cover and we even found fourteen separate memos by you, directed to Sphincter, about your concerns. You did your duty, that is for sure.

Just then Sean appeared carrying his own mug.

Hey Sean, everything taken care of? Inquired Zoe.

Oh for sure Zoey. For sure.

Did you leave proper instructions as we discussed?

CLEAN UP ON AISLE V.

GREAT.

NORTHCOXII-Secret Agent Man

2009-11-09T14:47:00.001-08:00

Frank awoke. Where...oh god the hospital again. Fear almost paralyzed him but he could move his fingers and toes. It was just a dream; a dream of previous torture.
He looked around, recognized his situation, and began to rise.

But I cannot rise, he thought. He was chained to the bed.

Reminds me of an overnight I had in Bangkok. Hahahahah.

Just then the door opened to his private room. In walked a man in his late thirties with a white coat and badge along with a stethoscope around his neck. He was carrying a medical file along with a pad.
Frank, I see you are awake.

Uh, yeah. For sure. Say, can you do something about these restraints?

Frank I am Dr. Cliché.

Nice to meet you Doc, but can you do something about these restraints.

Open your eyes Frank. Cliché moved to the right side of the bed and sat down on the chair provided.

Frank opened his eyes. There were no restraints. What the hell.......

Would you like something to drink Frank?

It was like his mouth and throat were sealed shut. Fear gripped Frank again. Cliché brought him a glass of water from the loo. Take this slowly, slowly...that's it.

Slowly Frank sipped the liquid and his mouth and throat opened up. He sat up and noticed an intravenous tube in his left arm. Other than that, he was free. And he felt that relief; like he had had a long sleep.

Dr. Criche, I ...how long have I been here?

Your chart says two days Frank. And I am Cliché, like the French snap shot. Got it?

Cliché, right, got it. With that he pulled the tube out of his arm. The doctor applied some antiseptic to the wound and covered it with a bandage.

Thanks.

Do you know why you are here Frank?

I think I had a seizure. But I was in this dream; one of those real dreams. And instead of forgetting the experience as I do with most of my dreams, the plot...so to speak...is permanently etched onto my brain.

Well, I am your assigned therapist Frank. I am a psychiatrist. Only the best for management in NORTHCO you realize. Anyway, tell me about this dream.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving on the old road out of town. The one they closed off. I am not sure how I got there really. My car shut down or I stopped to look at something. I am not really sure.

I awoke on the steps of my friend's home. Everything is a blur as far as that period of what turned out to be three days.

And your current dream?

Well there I am, on the side of the road and outside of my car. Now I must preface this with an insight I have had from some prior dream experiences. I feel this paralysis. It is a slow process. Like my arms and legs become real heavy and my sight begins to go. And the situation becomes worse and worse and everything appears to get slower and slower. And the fear just grips me. I mean I am a grown man, a man with a responsible position with an important company and yet I am gripped with fear.

You ever wake up and find that you have wet the bed?

No. Never happened. Well wait a minute. My wife told me I did once. But I have no recollection.

Oh, you are married? Yes, well no. Not any more. The papers were signed a couple months ago, but I have been living alone for a long time; a year and a half actually.

Frank continued to relate the 'plot' of this dream while Dr. Cliché dutifully took notes.

Time, Doctor, it is time that I am missing. That is what really scares me. Although I am not in a hurry to catch a nap if you catch my meaning.

Following the session, Frank got up and went to the loo and then found his clothes in the closet provided.

I do not think you should leave right now Frank. It is not a good idea. You are in here for observation and such. They wish to take tests; certainly an EEG, an EKG and an MRI. We must scan your brain Frank.

Well I will set up something with the front desk later on Doc. I promise.

And with that Frank left the hospital for the parking ramp, got into his car and drove home.

He drove up to the house opened the garage door, parked and exited. He almost tripped over that goddamn bike again. EXCEPT HE DID NOT HAVE A BIKE. Now calm down, he thought. Look you are an epileptic. You have known this for at least five years now. You forget things....
Frank got into his kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He opened his secret drawer and pulled out a pack of cigs along with a lighter.

Sitting on his sofa, taking a deep drag from his favorite tube, he thought about his life. They are not going to let me keep working here. I have to make some arrangements.

And what exactly did he tell the shrink? Hell, Dr. Cliché seemed like a nice guy and all, but the NORTHCO Med Center was not the safest place for him to let his guard down. And speaking of guards, he should not have let his guard down to a potential guard employed by the corp.

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and called the hospital. He still had the card in his top pocket.

NORTHCO Med Center. What can I do for you Frank?

How the hell does she know who I am? This is freaky.

How do you know my name?

Your ID Frank; it shows up right here on my receiver.

Do you know me?

Of course Frank. I met you at the Castle that one night. My name is Melanie.

Small town, everybody knows everybody I guess. Searching his mental files....Oh hi Melanie. I am sorry, getting old I suppose.

Oh Frank they made quite a fuss here a few minutes ago. You were not supposed to leave you know. But Dr. Creighton has a note here telling me to get some tests scheduled.

Frank thought for a sec.

Well Melanie, how about an appointment with Dr. Cliché?

Who?

Dr. Cliché, the shrink Melanie. Spent the morning with me.

Melanie paused. There is no Dr. Cliché at this center Frank. Never heard of a Dr. Cliché.

Frank looked down to the inside of his elbow. There was the bandage.

Click. Frank hung up the phone. His hand dropped the phone almost involuntarily. He felt his pate getting damp again. Like he had just drank an entire bottle of hot sauce. Geez what time is it anyway? Frank clicked on cable and drank down the beer. Seemed like one long gulp.

Suddenly cable came on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9O5DU6i3g4

Sean woke up alone. Bernice had evidently left early. What a night. That woman could make him feel so goooooooooood. And he could smell her presence. Strange; but so nice.

He went to the kitchen a made some espresso. He grabbed a paper while the machine steamed. The Pierre Gazette, all fifteen pages of it. Thank god he also had the New York Times delivered at the same time.

GIANT STAG SHOT. NO SURVIVORS

What in the hell does that mean? No survivors? Must be those newbie interns from the college taking over the paper again. He grabbed his coffee and dropped down on his sofa, paper in hand. He leaned over the coffee table and turned on cable.

AP: Yesterday a giant stag was shot dead about twenty miles outside of Pierre. The hunting season does not begin for another week in this rural country. So the Highway Patrol was flummoxed when the team discovered the grand prey just off one of the main highways.

Three hunters, with full regalia were found less than 25 yards from the prize carcass. Their bodies had been drained of all blood after being gutted. The full autopsy report from the country coroner will not be published until next week according to Officer Barnes.

There is no way of telling how the locals lost their lives. No evidence of illegal conduct except the hunting itself. Assuming they were responsible of course for the death of the Stag. After the bodies were removed to the office of the country coroner, I had the grand stag transported to my barn for safe keeping. I have a refrigeration unit there.

The 35 point buck was the greatest single treasure ever found in the wild in these parts, said the Officer.

The officer added that the nearby deer droppings glowed blue.

Holy shite, Sean thought. Since half his coffee was now on the paper he rushed to the kitchen carefully fixing another brew as he deposited the paper in the sink.

Nothing of course regarding Thomas or Algernon or Frank. You know what we need here...here in the godforsaken projects? A NORTHCO Web Alert. Yeah An Alert!!!

Yeah, how long would that stay up?

Sparky wandered in and Sean took him for a quick walk. Good dog actually. Never acts up. Nothing ever destroyed in the home after he returned late from the office.

Sean shaved and showered and whatever and went to the office, early again. Frank would not be around the rest of this week. That was for sure. And as he arrived at the center in the shuttle, he saw the maintenance crew at work, again, on the driveway that led to the warehouse in the lower level.

Meanwhile, Bernice had made it home. I mean it was only ten blocks and the walk did her good. She was humming. No need for Extenz or any nonsense like that, she mused. Sean was a keeper.

She went through the garage door via the code. Her car was at the office parking facility of course. As she went through the door to her kitchen she noticed the wagon. She does not have a wagon. What the hell is that doing here?

Bernice got the green tea and put the bags and the cute little pot she received from her sister Suzanne into the microwave. She showered and the tea was waiting for her as she poured a cup of relief and made it to her sofa for the local news.

Bernice loved the local news. In the morning this guy with a rug that would scare Sean's doggy, read the script provided as best he could. 45 and sunny. That aint bad for November, she thought.
Nothing that exceptional by way of news; Judge Andrews was caught driving drunk again. Her brother had actually gone to school with the old sot. According to what her parents had told her, three decades ago there would have been no arrest, no booking. And now Andrews would be through as a judicial officer forever.

As she finished her tea and prepared to dress for work, she noted a strange line moving across the bottom of her television screen:

FBI INVESTIGATING NORTHCO.

NORTHCO-XI: What's It All About Algie?

2009-11-04T23:07:00.000-08:00

http://freshome.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/black-white-room.jpg

The room was white; white as a new blanket of South Dakota snow; before the car tracks, before the animal tracks and before the other inevitable pollution by nature or man. Virgin is the appropriate word here.
And it was padded; the cell that is. But some shadows remain

Sitting alone, without so much as a pencil or a shoe lace, Algie contemplated his fate. What was he doing here?

I have accomplished all that was ever asked of me.
I mean I turned in my homework on time.

I studied while others were out having fun.

I finished my undergrad work before my eighteenth birthday.

I had a Dr. before my name by my 21st.

I never stole money. I never killed my brother. I never bribed or extorted anyone. I never intended anyone any harm. I never lied about anything 'material'.

I always paid my taxes.

I was kind to others, especially mumsy.

No music available, no stereo, no IPOD. Yet the words from the latest bard keep reverberating in my brain.

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Why in God's name was I meant to go through all this? There is no one here and I am stripped of all human dignity. And I am alone. But why? I never eschewed the norm really. I mean I went to work for the man. I took the corporate clothes. I responded affirmatively.

WHAT DID YOU WISH ME TO DO? WHAT DO YOU WISH ME TO DO?

My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?

I certainly never wished to trod upon new ground. I took the road more traveled; not the other way around. And yet here I find myself. I never wished to risk.

I was always doing THE BEST I COULD. And it was not good enough in the end.

People, some people, just hated me the entire trip; the entire journey through this veil of tears.

What did I ever do to THEM?

There was all this blood. All this carnage. The most violent thing I ever did was to draw equations on a white board and get paid for it. It was not my job to apply the equations in any particular manner.

There was a knock while Algie was musing and the door opened. In stepped Dr. Andrews.

How are we doing Dr. Flowers?

Algie, I am just Algie.

All right Algie. Why don't you just call me Ben? Algie how are you feeling today?

I am inside a white box, all alone, and I need a cigarette.

Ben reached into his white coat and pulled out a pack of Marlboroughs, handed the patient a cig and gave him a light from his flame. Ben broke the rules when it suited him and when he felt it might help him get through to a patient.

Now you do something for me Algie.

Algie took a long toke off of the cigarette and blew out the smoke in rings; it was the first feeling of relief he had felt since...since he got here, he guessed. What is that? Algie responded with a question. These were the first words he had uttered since he got here.

Put your pj's on and don your robe again Algie.

Algie looked down. My God, I have been sitting here buck naked. The patient had not really noticed his 'condition'. He duly complied, taking several more deep drags off his smoke and depositing the ashes in a plastic cup partially filled with water. He finished the cig and extinguished the butt in the cup.

Algie, I like to start at the beginning of things. You are a highly educated scientist and I realize this, so I do not wish you to think I am talking down to you. Do you believe that?

Yes, he responded. Compliance is the best policy when you are powerless, Algie thought.

Why are you here Algie?

Algie's heartbeat quickened. His breathing became shallower. Perspiration appeared on his pate and his forehead.

Now slow down. Take a deep breath Algie. That's right. Hold it in a second. Now let it out.

The sight came back into his left eye and Algie began feeling more at ease. He continued this deep breathing exercise another five minutes. He looked carefully at his therapist and said: My friend was brutally murdered and I survived. I am being punished for surviving.

This is the first time you have responded to anybody since that night Algie. It has been over a week since you arrived here. I would like to take a risk Algie. No matter what course of treatment I suggest, there is risk. Are you ready to take a risk Algie?

Algie thought for a second; a week? Damn. He had no idea he had been there that long.

Yes I am Doctor. Yes I am.

Good. Then come with me.

The door that had magically opened upon the arrival of Ben had remained open and the two simply waltzed out into the hall. And they walked on down the hall....

What's it all about, Algie?
Can you tell us just how Thomas died?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Algie?
Because we think that perhaps you have lied
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Algie,
Then I guess it's wise to be cruel.
And if you do not tell us what went wrong, Algie
We have no choice but to call you a fool

And you'll be stuck in here in the psych ward, Algie
we know there's something going on
Something ain't quite right in transvestite land...

We believe in love, Algie
but not men wearing stockings at all, Algie
Until you tell us what happened there that night, Algie
You won't walk out of here some day
You won't find love in here, Algie
Algie
What's it all about?
Algie?
Algie...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lDSf0A9RTk&feature=PlayList&p=E82F8EA9BF55CB85&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=42 (lyrics furnished by LISB)

Sean and Bernice from accounting finally 'retired' to Bernice's place. They had learned at lot that evening at the Castle. Hanson had divulged some secrets about NORTHCO and the fourth floor.

Following the narrative concerning UFO's and such, Sean had inquired about maintenance. It must be difficult to keep that building so clean. Well Hanson could not shut up after that. Even though the janitor never had been allowed access to the basement of the office building, he had been to the fourth floor on occasion.

And what a mess Hanson had found there. Shredded paper all over the place...the floor, the desks. Costumes for Christsakes. What the hell was that all about. And cages with animals stacked on the wall, the west wall he thought. There were no windows as such and the lighting was strange.

He could never bring help when he was ordered up there. And every time he had completed his 'tour', Sphincter would show up and order him to take this blue pill.

At least he surmised this because the last time he cleaned up the top floor he was given the pill and tucked it under his tongue, spitting it out later. He was certain that it gave him headaches and he was not going through that again. So even though that last tour was the only one he recalled, there was enough familiarity there to cue him; to indicate that that had not been the first time in the mysterious attic.

There was something else about the ten or so caged animals. Even though they all appeared to be examples of local breeds like raccoons and rabbits, THEY ALL GLOWED ORANGE.

Where the piece to this puzzle fit was the question. But the late night ale had made the couple too whimsical for such inquiry.

NORTHCO-X: Invasion of the UFO's

2009-11-01T05:58:00.000-08:00

NORTHCO-X: Invasion of the UFO's
October 30, 2009, 5:10PM

Sean got to the Castle Bar with the full intent of making the shuttle a designated driver. The word was that Frank was awake, like nothing had happened. But they were keeping him in the hospital for observation.
He looked for his favorite table and there was Bernice from accounting with a pitcher and two mugs. She had not even taken a sip out of general courtesy along with the personal protocol never to drink alone.

Oh Bernice, you made it.

Hi Sean. We are all set. How is Frank?

Sean quickly grabbed a mug, which Bernice had filled, and drank it down like it was a canteen full of water and he was in the desert.

Well, I happened to get through to the attending nurse--Frank had listed me as next of kin, can you imagine?--and she said Frank was awake but would remain in the hospital for observation and there will be some testing performed as I predicted.
When you found him, was he bleeding or anything?

No Bernice, he was just lying there on this side. I checked for breathing and called the EMT's. That is about it.

What is going on Sean. Everything seems so weird lately.
ll I am working on a recap Bernice. I mean a summary of all of what has happened. Which reminds me, I found an envelope marked 'Top Secret'. We should review that later when we get home.

Home? My goodness. Bernice smiled and Sean blushed. She loved it when Sean blushed.

Okay let us summarize what we have so far. Frank, who is the number three or four person in management-my direct supervisor-has no idea what his own company actually does. Me, I am manager of the third floor of a three story building and I have no idea exactly what NORTHCO produces. Except there are not three floors and a rather large warehouse basement; there is actually a fourth floor where short people are present.

You, Bernice, have worked in the accounting division for six years; reviewed thousands upon thousands of ledgers; and you do not know what NORTHCO does either.

And I have a dog who glows. And my dog and I have seen other animals residing in the outskirts of the forest who also glow. And the colors seem to vary from blue to orange. And if this is not enough, I swear I saw a pack of armadillos, armadillos for Chrissakes, running to the forest.

And you know what else Bernice. It appears that Thomas is dead; had his head ripped from his body. And the head is still missing and Algie, who appears to have been Thomas' consort, is now under observation in a mental hospital in Pierre.

Have I missed anything here Bernice?

Well, I had heard that Algie was not going to be back at the office for awhile But that was about it. I feel so bad for Thomas though. Where did all this occur?

In Algie's home. It was a tryst of some kind. There were police all over the place. Whenever Algie is released, he will not be going home for awhile because they are doing all they can to keep it a secured crime scene. Animals might even have been involved, but everyone is keeping rather tight lipped about all this.

His head was ripped right off his body? The picture just got to Bernice. My God she thought. Maybe I gotta get as far away from the Dakotas as possible.

Yes. But nobody is talking.

Just then Hanson came by. Hanson was the head of Janitorial Operations at NORTHCO. It seemed like Hanson had always been there. Hanson was truly one of the dumbest human beings Sean had ever met. It seemed like every time Sean spoke with him, Sean ended up in stitches.

The last time he spoke with Hanson at the office he told him that the third floor lady's room needed to be cleaned pronto. Hanson looked at him and asked what the lady's room had to do with the Lone Ranger's companion.

Hanson, mug in hand, addressed the couple: Mind if I join you for a bit?

Well Hanson, good to see you but....

No, just the right time Hanson, Bernice interjected. She called over the maiden and ordered another pitcher as Hanson sat down at the table.

I need to talk to somebody about this. Can I trust you two? You have always been kind to me and I just need to talk to somebody.

Of course Hanson, we are all ears said Bernice.

Hanson looked quizzically at their ears, shook his head and began:

I saw some lights in the night sky last night. Strange lights. Have either of you seen any strange lights?

Sean looked at Bernice. What kind of lights Hanson. I mean were they overhead cause you know we have a lot of night military flights and all around here.

No, these lights were horizontal.

You mean the lights were just over the horizon?

Yeah, like that. Kind of a glow coming from the northern forest.

Then Sean made one of the biggest mistakes he had made in days. Have you ever seen these lights before?
Oh there is stuff goin on in South Dakota all the time. Me and Ralphy, Ralphy was my high school buddy and after we graduated high school we went to work for a horse farm, just outside of Pierre. And the things we saw.

I mean one night, we was surveyin the sky. It was just beautiful that night and the stars were triple clear, believe you me. I mean there was no moon and the sky was just lit up so beautiful and all. It was about midnite and while we was watchin, there appeared, out of nowhere, a bunch of lights in like an octagon shape, you know like a ten sided object.

And it started spinnin and spinnin, kind a like a quarter on slate, you know what I mean? So I says, Ralphy do you see that?
And so Ralphy says, wow. And if you knew Ralphy...well he aint none for conversing and all. When Ralphy says: WOW, I mean that means something.

So all of a sudden, the object with the lights stopped spinning and took off. No sound whatsoever and you know how quiet it can be in the night here. Well let me tell you something, no sound at all emanated from that there object.

So we were on the road anyway, the damn car ran out of gas. We found out later there had been some sort of gas leak. I mean Timmy, my brother, found part of an antler in it...well anyhooo we decided to use Ralphy's new cell phone. And after figuring out how to use it, we called 911.

So Sheriff Johnston shows up about an hour or so later. We were not sure of the time because it was getting chilly in the night air even though it was June and all and so we got into the car and fell asleep.

So I hear a knock at the window and it's the Sheriff. So I get out of the car and start telling him about what was in the sky.

Do you know of any other witnesses Hanson to this great event?

Oh no Sheriff, see we had closed up Popper's and all so everyone was gone.

Oh, closed up Popper's again Hanson, did ya? The Sheriff remarked.

Well I ended up taking a trip in his patrol car and lost my license and everything. I told my lawyer all about it and he just shook his head the same way as Sheriff Johnston.

Let me tell you, the next time that ever happened I would remember to have Ralphy sleep in the driver's side.

Well let me tell you two, this was proof to me of the giant conspiracy. I mean that sheriff just filed charges to shut me up. And the lawyer was in on it, I could tell by the way he shook his head and all after I TOLD HIM THE TRUTH.

So this is really the first time I ever related this story to another human being. And if you repeat it or try to quote me I will deny it because they will just come after me again.

But another time, when I was in Pierre, about one in the morning I should think, Ralphy and I had just closed up Poppers...it was Emily's birthday and all so Sam kept the bar opened till real closing time...and we were outside and there were two speeding rocket type objects traveling right over our heads. I mean we had not even gotten into our car yet (Ralphy kind of forgot where he parked that night) when we saw these visions. And since there was no moon and the sky was clear and Sam had shut off the lights and all,

And so Ralphy, he looks up and points this time and says: WOW WOW.

I mean it was something to behold. And as I watched the arc the two rockets were making, the one rocket on the west side just vanished. Into thin air. I had never seen anything like that ever before in my life and never once since then.

And you can bet we did not call 911 that time. No sirree bob.

Just then, Hanson let one rip. I mean really, really rip. Bernice and Sean looked down as Hanson turned bright red.

I apologize for that. I really do. I have intestinal issues that my doctor is helping me with.

I will be right back Hanson. I got something in my throat, said Sean as he rushed toward the back of the Castle.

Sean began laughing uncontrollably. He had never ever heard a UFO story related like this in his entire life and it was the single funniest thing he ever heard. He thought about all those great stand up comics and thought that Hanson had really missed his calling. And every time he thought he had himself together, Sean started snorting again. So Sean went into the loo and washed his face and thought about the most tragic things he could think of before he came back to the table.

A trio, all of a sudden appeared on stage and began singing:

Autumn in New York can't compare

To the Fall of South Dakota

Rather be in good old Pierre

Than stuck in murky Saratoga

Nothin like the pure open air

To naturally cure your ills

And when all else seems to fail

There's always the good ole Black Hills

Nothin like the pretty prairie

Nothin like good ole prairie dogs

Nothin like beautiful aeries

Compared to New York smog

Suppose there are sights things in New York

That you cannot find in Dakota

But we do have Kevin Costner

While they just have Abe Vigoda

http://tpmcafe.talkingpointsmemo.com/talk/blogs/dikkday48yahoocom/2009/10/northco-x-invasion-of-the-ufos.php

NORTHCO-IX: Onslaught of the Armadillos

2009-10-30T12:12:00.001-07:00

File:Nine-banded Armadillo.jpg

Sean got to work that morning early. More than an hour early; which was strange for the man who never wished to give more than one minute extra to the slave owners, as he mentally referred to them. It was late October which meant it was still dark. He immediately went to his computer to check something out.

Armadillos are small placental mammals, known for having a leathery armor shell. The Dasypodidae are the only surviving family in the order Cingulata, part of the superorder Xenarthra along with the anteaters and sloths. The word armadillo is Spanish for "little armored one".

There are approximately 10 extant genera and around 20 extant species of armadillo, some of which are distinguished by the number of bands on their armor. Their average length is about 75 centimeters (30 in), including tail; the Giant Armadillo grows up to 1.5 m (5 ft) and weighs 59 kg (130 lbs), while the Pink Fairy Armadillos are diminutive species with an overall length of 12-15 cm (4-5 in). All species are native to the Americas, where they inhabit a variety of environments.

In the United States, the sole resident armadillo is the Nine-banded Armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), which is most common in the central southernmost states, particularly Texas. Their range is as far east as South Carolina and Florida and as far north as Nebraska; they have been consistently expanding their range over the last century due to a lack of natural predators and have been found as far north as Illinois and Indiana.

Jesus. Nebraska and Illinois. Then its true. I did see a herd of armadillos this morning on the way to work. They were just on the edge of the forest across from my house. This might be the first sighting of these strange creatures in this state. Ha. What the hell are they moving up here for? I mean is it global warming? I mean it has not been that brutally hot up here and according to Wiki they like heat and even like to swim a little.

There was one other thing that really got to Sean. All the pictures show grey as a primary color of the little buggers. There are not supposed to be any orange armadillos. And are they really supposed to be six feet or more long? And he could have sworn one of them stood up on its hind legs. After this, Sean would go nowhere without his nifty new camera. The one Bernice from accounting bought him.
t was 11:30 when Sean showed up for the meeting with Frank.

Hi Jenny. The old man ready for the brains of this outfit?

He has not come in yet Sean.

Did he call in?

No. And I have left three messages for him.

Tell you what. I finished all my paperwork early. I am going to take an early lunch and drop by his place.

Sean packed up, got into his car and made the fifteen minute journey to Frank's abode.

It was one of those kind of rainy days in the fall. The fear was that the temp would go down to something under 30 and then there was hell to pay. That road condition is one you do not wish to face sober, let alone party cloudy as they say. Sean grabbed a dooby from the luxury ashtray and played some WHO.

Who are you? Who are you? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_FZVD5lsAw

As soon as he got in Frank's driveway, Sean knew something was amiss. He could not put his finger on it, but something was not quite right. He got out and walked up to the garage door. First the door of the garage was not completely closed. There was kind of a three inch gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. He peeked through the window and saw Frank's car. But the tarp--the cover Frank always used for his old Ferrari--as in shreds on the floor.

He knew that Frank had got the car back after the highway patrol found it on the old road a couple days before. He knew because Frank told him the day he it was returned.

He went to the front door and knocked and rang the bell. No response.

He tried the knob, the door opened right up.

Frank! Frank!!

Sean called several times as he went further and further into the house. There was Frank, on the floor by his desk and his magic PC. He got down and felt his neck. Blood was pumping and he was breathing. He grabbed his cell and called 9-11. Sean pushed the secret button to close up the computer. As he did so he noticed an envelope labeled 'top secret'. He took it back to his car. Then he went back inside to wait for the EMT's.

Meanwhile, back on the old road....

Frank could barely see a thing and he could only move inches at a time, attempting to drag himself...to where. Ahhhhhhh forget it. Come and get me.

The sound was not exactly thumping. It was more like skipping on the cement/asphalt freeway. Louder and louder...THEY WERE GETTING CLOSER.

He felt breathing, heavy breathing on his neck. His fear increased to the point where he was having trouble breathing again.

TEEN AGE MUTANT NINJAS?

His sight was sooooooooooo bad. These creatures just mulled around him. All of a sudden he felt himself being dragged into the woods, he would guess. But why? I mean if THEY are just wild animals of some kind why should they care where they have their dinner?

He found himself in the forest, almost totally blind and he was filthy and totally wiped out. As exhausted as he ever felt. He was almost totally paralyzed. All that he kept thinking was helpless.

Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gKwjxF7ilI

Suddenly, he felt as if he were being dragged into a hole.

Frank suddenly awoke in a hospital bed at the NORTHCO Medical Center.

Back at Eastern Headquarters, Langdon was getting more confused as each day passed. He had a board filled with notes and pictures and other odds and ends. The attempt was to get the full picture as it were. And all he had so far was a Picasso; just a twisted jumbo of nothing. Yet there were messages in all this muck.

Langdon started a list.

Algernon Flowers, a gay part-time transvestite invites his lover Thomas Corkland over for din din.

They both work at NORTHCO.

Thomas definitely enters Algernon's abode and the party begins.

Animals arrive in a wagon of some kind through the front door. At least one of these animals was a raccoon. The domestic feline had nothing to do with the entire affair and probably was in hiding at some point during the proceedings.

Besides nibbling by raccoons, there were other indications of a much larger animal as far as damage to the corpse. And Sam figured the nibblings by the raccoons took place following the death of Thomas. It was most probably an alligator that took the head off, according to forensics. At least that was the best guess. The DNA testing would be accomplished in Pierre and would take a month. I mean they have to narrow down the species responsible for this heinous crime.

My aim has to be to discover who the human perps are in this mess.

Algernon is nuts but he probably was not able to carry out anything close to this. That file is not closed, but...come on.

But there is one place that he needs to investigate and that is NORTHCO. NORTHCO has to have something to do with this...

Langdon began to review the files discovered at Thomas Corkland's home. After meeting Mrs. Corkland, he had no inclination to go back there. Thomas' mom was nuts. He needed some more information but Sherry can go back and glean more from that psycho.

But some of Corkland's notes read like they were written in some sort of code. I mean, what the hell is this conspiracy crap claiming NORTHCO and Obama were somehow conspiring to bring down America?

And yet, here was a guy who had been with NORTHCO for six years and cannot figure out what NORTHCO actually does. And even Langdon himself never got a straight answer as to what this corporate dictator manufactured or produced. So the detective now had made this mystery his prime concern. He would certainly have enough information to gather regarding Corkland's pension, life insurance, pay, etc to present probable cause to delve further into this.

I must set up an appointment to speak with that Spincter guy. I hope he is less anal than his moniker but somehow I know that hope is not going to be fulfilled.

SALLY, GET YOUR FANNY IN HERE.

If I did not absolutely love the guy, I would file a civil rights complaint tomorrow, sighed Sally.

Sean was beside himself. By the time he got back to work he had about an hour and a half left of his work day. And he had to spend it with Spincter.

What the hell was he doing on the floor anyway? Did you find drugs or paraphernalia. AND WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING IN FRANK'S HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Mr. Spincter, please. I am in as much a quandary over all this as you are. More actually, I know the guy. He is my friend. He has been to my place, I have been to his place. Our wives use to socialize together, before they both left us to the single life.

I mean, I have to watch my demeanor here Mr. Spincter. I was at Frank's home because just last week he missed three days of work due to illness and he was not at our scheduled meeting a half hour before noon today. I was concerned when I was told that calls had been made to his house and those calles received no response. It was my duty, as floor manager to find out what, if anything, went wrong.

Okay, okay Sean. I stepped over a line here. I should not blame all my troubles on you or Frank. But I have to know...did you find any evidence of drug use.

Just when we share a reefer from time to time on Frank's porch, Sean thought.

No, of course not. The only drugs available around here are caffeine and alcohol available at our local Castle.

You better not be lying....okay, okay. That is not fair. He is at the medical center now, right?

Yes. I will visit him tomorrow on my way to work. And you have all the authorizations, hell its NORTHCO's center. My cousin was an epileptic and I have an inkling that that is what we are dealing with now. I am sure there will be an MRI along with an EEG. Hell probably an EKG also. Blood tests, etc. etc. etc. Mr. Spincter, you will be getting the answers to all your questions in the next couple of days.

All right. That is more than fair. Thank you Sean. You are dismissed.

Thank you Sir, Sean said as he turned to leave. God I hate that guy. YOU ARE DISMISSED. And you are a hairy asshole, he thought.

Friday already. Oh, he was going to meet with Bernice from accounting at the Castle.

You know, I really do miss that ale when I have been away too long, Sean thought.

NORTHCOVIII: Strange Fauna

2009-10-30T12:09:00.001-07:00

Racoon

Yesterday morning when I went out to feed the rabbits I noticed some blood on the straw in several places and also up the ramp to the feeder hutch. The blood seemed diluted, not bright red and thick and sticky but kind of like blood in urine, only too colorful for that. It was also on the three senior does, in a stream, almost as if they'd been peed on. I picked them each up and gave them a good look but didn't see anything amiss. I also checked out the senior buck, and he looked fine. The kits are hard to catch without a treat to distract them, so I just observed them all for a while. Everyone seemed fine.

It snowed all day yesterday. This morning there was lots of color on the snow in the rabbit colony. It's orange, though, not red. Clearly not blood. We can't figure out what it is. We didn't notice it when we fed the rabbits yesterday evening, because the snow was still falling and covering everything up. It isn't seeping up from the earth, because we dug down a bit and the snow gets white underneath. It isn't dripping from trees because it's in places incongruent with that theory. http://gardenplotter.com/rospo/blog/2007/01/mystery-in-rabbit-colony.html

The police showed up at Algernon's home about 11:00 that night. Algie was beside herself, or himself or himself was beside herself...anyway....

The call had been made one half hour before. Officers were already at the scene when Detective Langdon arrived with his partner at Algernon's abode.

He was hysterical during his 911 conversation with Emergency Services.

He had led the two cops into the living room and pointed out the corpse, or what was left of it.

A body lay naked on the grayish white carpet. The head and left arm were gone. Just gone. There was blood all over the place. On the carpet, on two walls. There certainly had been a struggle.

Algie was in his robe. There was blood on the robe from top to bottom. Although Algie had washed his face and even shaved just before the officers' arrival, he had left his long earrings on, the ones with the zircon diamonds.

Langdon looked at his partner. Sherry, and they decided that the State Bureau should also be notified.

Mr. Flower, we need to talk down town. And we need that robe. And we have to get you out of here so that the crime scene is left as pure as possible. Mr. Flower?

Algie was just sitting there on the sofa, head in hands, bent over; weeping uncontrollably. Langdon thought: This is not going to be easy. Just then a cat, a huge white fluffy cat came in from the kitchen.

Langdon stooped over to pick up the feline. Have you got a little portable kennel for fluffy here? Algie. Algie you got to look at me. NOW

Algie sat up. Loretta. Ooooooooooh Loretta. Let me have my Loretta.

I cannot do that Algie. NOW WHERE IS THE CAGE?

Behind the buckets in the pantry.

Just then back-up showed up with an ambulance. Following a call to homicide, Langdon released Algie in his robe to the EMT's escorted by back up. I aint gonna get much out of him right now. He knew that Algernon would be checked over at the hospital for any injuries and the robe and slippers would be handed over to forensics.

Langdon found the cage/kennel and deposited the cat in it. He handed it to Officer Lee who would put it in the squad car and take it to Animal Rescue.

Langdon had already worked on six murders in this little nook of South Dakota in the last five years. Every one of them was strange. As if any murder is not strange. It was just that no spouses were responsible for the deaths. No drug dealers. In fact no relatives were found to be suspects in these murders.

And here was 75% of a corpse....wait, what the hell is that ? Langdon said to no one in particular. In the corner covered partly by the front drape was a ...a critter of some sort. And it had a strange glow to it.

Sherry, flip that light switch a sec, will ya?

Sherry turned the main living room lights off, and sure enough the critter glowed orange.

Both Langdon and Sherry of course had their gloves on along with booties to cover their shoes. Forensic finally showed up taking pictures of the body and the room from all angles.

Finally Langdon felt safe enough to examine the critter. Except it was not dead. The raccoon turned suddenly and bit Langdon right on the arm and began running in a panic all over the room, all over the floor and the walls further tracking blood all over the place.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST....Langdon was beside himself. Where in the fuck did a raccoon come from? If those officers who first hit this scene did not shut the goddamn door...

The critter got caught in the drapes and Langdon tore the curtains down and used it as a net to capture the animal. At least we got pix before the damn chaos. Animal Rescue was called immediately. Now even they would have to get involved personally. Langdon had one of the officers watch over the 'package' until they got there. And the detective of course now had a stake in Animal Rescue since tests would let him know if he was in danger of some virus or even rabies.

Meanwhile Langdon, now wrapped in a bandage given him by one of his cops, took a closer look at the corpse. The head had not been taken off by a saw or other implement. That was for sure. Samson the chain smoking coroner was approaching the body at the same time.

No tools here, said Samson. He turned the body over and examined the shoulder and the neck from a different angle. This appears to have been bit off, pointing to the shoulder with the missing arm. Lang look here, teeth marks. And look at the neck. Shredded. I mean, no human being did this!!!

Was there anybody else here. I mean somebody phoned this in to 911.

Yeah, a boyfriend who lives here. But he was in shock. I mean I could get nothing out of him but wailing. He was taken to the hospital for observation with an escort and psych will have a look at him. I will get there tomorrow morning. Sam, is there any clue as to the size of these teeth? You know, the teeth of the perp or perps?

Well I need to get the body back to the morgue so I can get a better look...hell I want a CT on this one for sure. But they are smaller teeth, a lot of gnawing.

About the size of some raccoons dentures you think?

As he arose from the body, Langdon saw something on the carpet. Tire marks from the front door. Feint marks like from a wagon or something.

HOW THE HELL DID I EVER END UP IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE ANYWAY?

Meanwhile back on the old road....

Frank somehow awoke on the side of the road next to his car. What the hell am I doing here? It was the middle of the night. This was on the old road where he had pulled over the car.

Well this has got to be good. This is a dream. It has to be a dream.

He managed to get up and he carefully examined himself as best he could in front of his headlights. Nothing. Just the dirt from the road where he had been lying. Yeah, same suit. Doors all shut on the car. Keys in his pocket.

Self satisfaction went by the way side real fast. The wood was not more than fifty feet from the edge of the road where he stood. Eyes were peering at him through the trees; so many he could not count them. They moved as he moved. Slowly he moved around to the driver's side and pulled out his keys.

He dropped them. Where the hell are they. His heart began to pound and he felt the perspiration right on his head and neck. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

Now let's just calm down a minute, Frank thought. Or did he say it aloud? Frank was not sure of one goddamnable thing. All of a sudden, as he looked down for the keys again, his sight was lost. Just like that. He got down on his knees and felt around for the keys. Nada. Nothing. Breathing became very hard for this man and suddenly he was paralyzed.

He heard rustling from the wood, THEY WERE COMING FOR HIM......

Langdon went right from the scene of the murder to his office. Pierre had helped set it up to cover all of eastern South Dakota. He had scoffed of course, just seeing the entire complex of state and county offices as a give away to NORTHCO. But what the hell did he know, anyway? Besides, now he had more tech at his disposal, more underlings, hell...more power than he ever would have had if he had stayed in the big city. Fourteen thousand people is not a big city of course, but everything is relative.

Turns out that Animal Protection might end up being more important that CSI, thought Langdon; at least in the early hours following this murder. And he knew damn well that the early hours usually were the most important in solving any case. Although CSI certainly found semen on the couch as well as the walls (?), DNA testing would not be accomplished for a couple of weeks, if he were lucky.

But the critter had his stomach pumped and that bad boy had certainly munched on the corpse. The cat was clean as he suspected. No rabies was discovered but Langdon was not out of the woods on that threat either since raccoons can carry a number of bacterial or viral diseases. But the only evil symptom he felt at that point was a headache and a thirst from some bad whiskey.

The shrink at the hospital refused his attempt to interview Algernon. According to Dr. Koch, the suspect just kept throwing up in a pail singing I Could Have Danced All Night. The single strangest behavior Koch had seen in his fifteen years as a psychiatrist.

If you think that is strange, I have a raccoon you should meet, thought Langdon.

NORTHCOVII: The Pink Slip

2009-10-25T03:22:00.001-07:00

Miniature horses and foals

Algie would feel soooooooooooo free at times like this. The pink and lavender ensemble was so perrrrrrrrfect.

The stereo was blaring:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwy1x0-cZaI

The silk panties were 'form' fitting. Hard to find things like this in a department stores; but he discovered them on ebay, of all places. Oh and the lingerie. Just gorgeous. And the make-up was just ideal for the occasion and made his skin feel sooooooooo soft but maintained the general lines of his face that showed beauty but strength at the same time. HARD TO TOP THAT. And it enhanced the effect of his moustache.

And Tommy is just going to love the entire picture. Algie fixed himself a drink and then...put it aside. Do not want to get the engine running to quickly. Spoil the warm up, he thought.

This was his dance room. A beautiful portrait of Barbara and Marilyn on opposing walls. Vases filled with flowers, and the aroma was ...ooops, damn. And these heels were perfect.

Algie had felt the left heel go out and he immediately sat down to fix it. Just then the door....damn!!!

He dumped the other shoe and went to answer the door.

Frank finished interviewing Thomas. This clown bullshit was getting to him.

As part of his leftist conspiracy rant, Thomas was positing that NORTHCO had been experimenting with biogenic weaponry. That its purpose, and the new purpose of the government was to.....blah, blah blah blah blah.

What is really fascinating here is that Thomas has never received The Pink Slip. As a matter of fact, no one has ever been fired from NORTHCO. Even on Frank's recommendation although Frank was really not into that pink slip scene very often.

I mean NORTHCO had been around at least two years before Frank had ever begun employment.

Why a right wing nut would wish to tie the current situation to Obama was beyond him. But Frank assumed something was going on in the basement facility and he knew it had something to do with the DOD.

Thomas had brought Frank an envelope marked TOP SECRET. Frank immediately stored the materials in his brief case after he left.

Jenny came in.

A Dr. Kevin is on line three Frank.

Thanks Jenny.

Yeah Kev. How's it goin?

I really do not know Frank. I mean I got the results back from Minneapolis. And I really do not know what to tell you.

Kev. Stay right there and hang up. I will get right back to you.

Frank hung up and left the office for 'a walk'. Jenny asked if there was anything wrong and Frank smile and said he just needed some fresh air after talking with Thomas. That was quite understandable to Jenny of course.

Jenny thought, thank god Thomas never hit on her.

Okay Kev, I just wanted to get on my private cell.

Understandable Frank. As I was saying, I do not know what to tell you. I received the results and they seem quite normal. Quite normal for a twenty-five year old that is. I mean blood pressure, and everything else checked out tops comparing the results to standards set by the AMA. But your cholesterol is way down, your red and white blood counts are superb, really.

Well that's good, is it not Kev?

Well yeah, but, I mean you never worked out, you drink like a fish--no offense buddy-and you never have abstained from smoking. I mean I took x-rays, not an MRI, but you look clean. When I looked down your throat and into your ears, I mean everything was pink and healthy.

Kev, are you asking me out on a date or just commiserating?

Back to the out of town tests Frank. We found strange fluids on your clothes. Semen, blood, and this strange web like substance. Your friend of course did the tests on the clothes but sent me the results as you requested.

Semen. I have been a monk for fifteen months Kev. No fuckin way. Goddamn, I told you I blocked out or blacked out for three or four days. What the hell happened to me anyway?

Frank. I am just the messenger, remember. Listen, I asked for further tests from both labs. I want genetic tests performed. Anyway, you can feel free to call me anytime. You know that. Now calm down. FOR CHRISSAKES I JUST INFORMED YOU THAT YOU HAVE THE BODY OF A TWENTY FIVE YEAR OLD. Enjoy it. I would.

With that the two said their good byes and Frank finished up at the office and went home a couple hours early.

And you know, I really have felt rather frisky lately. I mean Jenny looks good for chrissakes, thought Frank as he got into his car.

Frank got home and ended up at the PC with a drink and a smoke. He went back on line and picked up the obvious:

In the case of dwarfism one of the two following systems could (possibly) be at work in its development in the Miniature horse.

1- Autosomal recessive trait--Both parents pass on a recessive gene and the trait is expressed in the offspring.

2-Autosomal dominant trait--One (or both) parents pass on a dominant gene and the trait shows up in the offspring. The trait would have to be expressed in one of the parents or could be [caused by a new mutation (Crandall and Crosson 1993)]

There are over 200 variations of dwarfism characteristics which have been cataloged and well described in humans alone. Most of the human dwarfism characteristics have been proven to be genetic in nature. In the dwarfed miniatures, most of these characteristics are recessively inherited (both the sire and the dam appeared to have normal conformation). Many of the scientifically identified characteristics have been researched individually (Bowling 1996).

http://www.mini-horse.org/dwarf_horse_genes.html

Oh really? Is that not interesting? I mean dwarfs appear to reproduce more dwarfs and Norwegians appear to reproduce more Norwegians.

But Dwarfism, as it seems to be called is an anomaly (as if teeny horses and such are not anomalies!!!) Miniaturization is not such an anomaly.

Also, I do not know of a human genetic dwarf disease that does not show signs until later as a result of older age, there are over 200 types of human dwarfisms though I will have to see. As for these seen in Minis, these are NOT due to age or environment as a sporadic result. They are due to genetic mutations that have been inherited over time thru generations.

Also, you do not get part of a dwarf gene and therefore are less of a dwarf. It is all there or not. And if you are a dwarf you have two copies of the recessive dwarf gene, not some of the gene but all of it. What does occur is Penetrance and Expressivity.

These genetic terms explain how dominant and recessive genes interact within an individual. What you might think is a minimal dwarf is actuallty (sic) a heterozygote mini just the dominant normal gene is being "overpowered" by the recessive dwarf gene."

So there is some difference between being a dwarf and being small. I am getting nowhere on this so far. Frank thought it was time to hit the beer. Scotch would just send him down too quickly even though he was ready for bed anyway. Are those little people 'dwarfs' or is it dwarves?

Bio-hazards. How about that?

Like nuclear waste, genetic changes in ecosystems will threaten environmental and human health for generations. The true impacts of the introduction of new species may not be understood for generations, if understood at all, and the negative effects will amplify over time.

As with nuclear waste disposal, the assumption is made that science can solve any environmental problems that genetic engineering may present and that, though our knowledge is incomplete right now, all we need is more information to make genetic engineering safe.

As with most unproven technologies that translate into huge corporate profits but carry environmental and human health risks, the ecological costs are understated and are calculated as inevitable costs of economic progress.

Much like the effects of pesticides, the impacts of "genetic pollution" on the environment and human health will not be easily traced back to their source.
Some Key Questions

There are a number of important questions that need to be asked about genetic engineering. These include the following:

* Is genetic engineering socially useful? Will the benefits that are promised materialize? More importantly, do these benefits meet the needs of farmers and society at large?
* Has there been democratic deliberation over the introduction of these new technologies? Who is making the decision to release genetically engineered organisms into the environment?
* What resources are being spent on the research, development and commercialization of genetic engineering that could be spent on the development of sustainable agriculture practices? What problems are genetically engineered products manufactured to solve?

Conclusion

Genetic engineering threatens the environment in ways never before imagined and endangers the livelihoods of small farmers across the world. Genetic engineering claims ownership over living organisms. It is for these reasons that there is intensifying global resistance to the patenting of life and the dangerous applications of this technology.

http://www.mindfully.org/GE/Genetic-Engineering-Biohazard-Introduction.htm

What is interesting about this Frank thought, was that this was not about radiation poisoning, like those old black and white movies where giant spiders are born from nuclear tests in the Southwestern U.S.

This is merely a metaphor. We do not understand the consequences of burying our Nuclear Waste. And we do not understand that every single time we put something new into the environment, the consequences are monumental, or at least can become monumental.

Everything went dark. Frank was unconscious on the floor by his desk.

NORTHCOSEX: Gloucester Cathedral

2009-10-25T03:18:00.001-07:00

Gloucester Cathedral Gloucester Cathedral - 2004-11-02.jpg The western end of the cathedral

Frank greeted Sean and Bernice from accounting at the same time. Along with that damn mutt. (shivers) Frank sat his guests down. Bernice of all people wanted a matini as Sean smiled at his Henikin. Spanky was fixed up with his bowls.

So Spanky speaks Sean?

It is Sparky Frank, but yeah, I mean you got to hear this, said Sean pulling a tape from his sports coat. Without prompting, Sean put it in the cassette in Frank's EC and turned it on.

...

There is not much there Sean.

God Frank, I heard it. Hell I told you I played it this morning.

Shortly, after playing it thrice, the three could barely hear:

Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow

What the hell....blurted Sean.

The three discussed many things. Then Bernice, rather loose from her goose as it were, piped up.

My father used to tell us a story about an artesian in the twelfth century. Hans Lugerman was his name. Hans had grown up in a tradesman home. One of six that survived the plague, one of the many plagues in Hamburg. The entire family moved to Goucester because of that plague. A cousin from the central English city send for them since they both belonged to sister guilds.

The city had been 'founded' in the first century and by 681 a Roman Catholic abbey had been built. It was on that spot that the great Gloucester Cathedral and that is where Hans was enrolled to work with his boys in the ornamental guild on that cathedral.

In those days of old it took centuries to build a great cathedral throughout Europe. Gloucester began as Norman architecturally and ended up Gothic. That is how long it took to build this structure. Some three hundred years of construction and to this day the maintenance might as well be titled construction.

Cousin Francis brought Hans into this ornamental guild around 1150 A.D. Generation after generation worked on the cathedral. Guilds were sacred in those days, recognized by the aristocracy as well as the Church. Blood in those days counted as much for the tradesmen as the dukes and earls for heavens sakes.

Specifically, Hans was to work on door knobs of all things as well as an ornament seen all over the outside of the church called 'ball flowers'. All day, every day, except Sundays, the family would work for the guild carefully crafting the ball flowers and the door knobs of this magnificent edifice.

Ah Bernice, we were going to....

No no Bernice, go on, said Frank, all of a sudden interested in this Hans character. Frank might have ended up with an accounting degree prior to his MBA but he had a minor in Literature of the Middle Ages and he was sick of being so consumed with the present 'plague' or whatever NORTHCO was perpetrating.

Sean rolled his eyes, but this Bernice was talented and he certainly did not wish to put a damper on things as they say.

In those days of yore the tiniest ornament took a long time to craft and then another tradesman from another guild would help 'lay' or install the ornament on the building. And when one of these beautiful pieces of art cracked or fell off the structure, the artistes were hard at work.

You have to understand, the scaffolding NEVER CAME DOWN. Not for three hundred years. As a matter of fact they just completed a restoration on a spire nine years ago.

But Hans had a hobby as many of these artisans did. He worked on a statue, a statue of St. Benedict. It was the Benedictines who actually 'owned' and operated the cathedral in those days. And he would secretly work on this piece of art nights and on Sundays; being very careful never to get caught.

Hans died fifteen years after coming to England and his son Hans dutifully filled his father's role in the guild. And Hans jr. continued work on that statue at the same time. The statue was truly a work of art and was finished shortly before the death of Hans jr.

The irony of this all was that two generations worked on this superb piece of art and it ended up in a little garden outside of a latrine in Bristol; in Bristol of all places, an old monastery of course for very few to see.

Frank was rapt in attention at this little speech from the chick in accounting. He knew of course the stories of the grand European Cathedrals of the Middle Ages. He knew something of the structures and the differences between Norman architecture and Gothic architecture as well as the volkeskunde adaptions.

Bernice continued. I do wonder sometimes, what is the place of the individual. I mean even Bob Dylan sings that we need to follow something or somebody. The story of the Hans' and their dedication to the Benedictines is remarkable to me(although dedication to the guild was primary). But allegiances are funny because the artisans chose St. Benedict as their hobby. They most probably knew how to read and write. I mean they had to follow plans carefully and certainly would understand the symbols on those plans much better than most modern day historians of the period.

I think I can see what you are saying Bernice, if I may be so bold. Frank gulped some more of his scotch as he continued.

We worship at the corporate edifice. Or at least we are beholden to these fictional rulers. We dedicate our entire lives to the corporate entity. A few of us will benefit from a pension of sorts if the markets hold, depending upon our point of departure. Of course we must remember that the average worker in management stays at one corporation all of five years or so.

But, in the end, will we even end up leaving a piece of art outside a urinal in some sacred spot?

Bernice nodded. Exactly, she said. And now I believe that we three are joining in our own hobby, yes?

Well Bernice, I cannot speak for Frank, but there is something happening here and only a few know what that is. I mean there are strange creatures, creatures made strange by something in the air; or something in the water; or something in the ground we stand upon.

Bernice, what do you know about Vegas? Interjected Frank.

Well, we have been there since 2005 at the least. I am not sure how long we were there before then. We might have purchased some company that had been in the same line of business-whatever line that may be. But there is no evidence of any income or outflow until May of 2005. I also discovered that shortly after May of that year, the Vice President actually visited the facility. For whatever reason is beyond me but a whole lot of money came in shortly after that from three different government agencies.

I also know that we have 1400 or so employees there, about the same as we have here and the building looks EXACTLY LIKE OURS. I found that out quite accidentally when Sphincter handed me the wrong file one day; a file that contained building plans and even pictures of the finished product. And the name of the manager of the entire facility? Sphincter.

Say what, Sean blurted out.

Yeah, Sphincter.

Well what's his first name?

Are you kidding me? What is the first name of our Spincter, anyway?

All three burst out into laughter at that one. Ha

Just then Sparky spoke up:

Rooooooooooooouuuuuuuuut Wooooooooooow

Well whatever the translation, I need to let him out. So Sean went to the door and opened it as Sparky rant outside. After completing his business, Sparky came back in and sat on the floor right by Frank; much to his chagrin. And speaking of chagrin, Spanky has the weirdest grin, thought Frank.

The trio, led and mediated by Frank for the most part, hit upon a plan.

Bernice would continue in her attempt to procure files from Sphincter. And she would keep an extra eye on figures that might shed some light upon what was what at NORTHCO; which was about how specific this entire 'investigation' entailed; at least at this point.

Sean was going to hit Algie a little harder, with the other two conspirators' full understanding that Algie kind of traveled between two universes and it was important to get to him when he was in their reality.

Frank was going to work as best he could gathering information from the second floor operations and see what he could get by way of records from the evil Thomas.

The three decided upon a song with their last drink of the evening:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_dT70sbyP8 Winchester Cathedral.

Sean and Bernice moseyed over to Sean's in order to play house. Sparky had no leash, and it had been that way for two weeks now. There just was no reason for it. There had been a light snow that had stuck around and when they got to Sean's place and approached the door, Bernice noted little foot prints that appeared to approach the front door and then veered right. She quickly moved to the left, following the small prints in the snow until she saw that they ended on the left or east side of the home. There was a small basement window where the steps stopped but there was no immediate sign of entry through the window.

Bernice rushed back and informed Sean. The three mammals entered the house and Sean, after switching on the lights, ran downstairs to the basement and checked the windows; all the windows. No evidence of entry, but there were marks on the dust at the one window in the southeast corner.

Sean came up and informed Bernice of his findings telling her everything was okay, but he was panting some just the same. The two humans circumnavigated the house finding nothing. Sparky's dish was upside down, but that proved nothing. On the other hand, the overturned dish certainly did not alleviate any of their trepidation.

After relaxing with a doobie and a beer, the two took out their anxiety in...well they kind of relieved each other and fell into a fast sleep.

Sean awoke in a start. What the hell is that? He thought as he got out of bed and kind of 'snuck' into the living room. He actually lingered at the threshold of the living room from the kitchen and his heart began racing and his breathing was much troubled.

There were three of the midget clowns, with the stereo playing some carnie music, playing ball games with Sparky. They were tossing around a ball. Sparky was hitting it in the air with his nose.

He looked down, my god I have pissed my own pants!

Sean awoke in a sweat. A dream. Holy clown suits!!! Quickly he 'checked' and confirmed that he had not wet himself during the night. Bernice from accounting was still by his side.

Since the sun was about to rise with rosy fingered dawn's introduction, he got up and out to the kitchen fixing his juice and coffee. He took a peak into the living room and...there was a bright orange ball in the middle of the goddamn floor. Sean blessed himself with a trembling hand, shaking his head. My good lord, why hast thou forsaken me?

Frank awoke soakin wet. What the f...........? He jumped out of bed and ran to the shower. Coming from the shower he stripped the bed. The colors of the sheets were off, somehow. He tossed them into the hamper. Sara the cleaning lady was coming this pm from the service. He opened the window a crack. Even with a high of 42, it was not going to be that bad. He sprayed the mattress with lilac scented whatever and went to the kitchen.

In his robe he fixed coffee and had a shot of orange juice. Maybe he has the 'bug', he mused. The though always made him smile. His mother had been an abject alcoholic and would constantly complain that she had the 'bug'. Like it was some plague on her house.

By the time he was dressed and out the door Frank was 'reved up' and ready to kill, as they say. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Say what!!! Frank went to the door, no one was there. He relocked the door and went to his car through the kitchen into the garage. He stepped right on the bicycle sitting between him and his car.

What the hell is that doing there? He kicked it over to the side and felt a pain in his right foot.

Damn!!

As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed something strange. As if his morning had not been strange enough. There was a puddle of water created by melting snow. He could swear it glowed blue.

Frank arrived at the office rather calmly, listening to a little Marshall Tucker. On his desk was a message from Dr. Kevin. He stuffed it in his pocket and decided to return the call on his 'private' cell at lunch when he was slated for a walk.

Jenny knocked and entered. Thomas is here Frank.

Oh hi Thomas. How are you today?

After the door closed, Thomas sat down and looked around. Like he was making sure that it was just he and Frank.

There is a conspiracy going on here with NORTHCO and the liberal/socialist agendists Frank. I am sure of it. Listen...

I am not sure I am in the mood for this right now Thomas, I....

LISTEN TO ME FRANK!! Even Thomas was surprised at his outburst, but he continued none the less.

You know I am in residence on the opposite end of the Project?

Sure Tom, everybody knows you live with your mother...but...

Well, I could not sleep and so I took the garbage out and there were these midget clowns in the front yard. Jumping and laughing and as soon as I close the door, they scampered away.

This was interesting, thought Frank. I mean Tom is a right wing nut but it is all a matter of perspective. I mean what do I care what his politics are. I mean I just want to know the facts.

And Frank noticed something else about Tom that he had not noticed before. Tom's left eye was greenish in color while the other was dark brown.

NORTHCO CINCO

2009-10-25T03:15:00.001-07:00

Tinker Bell (2005, bronze) by Diarmuid Byron O'Connor

Sean got home that night late but sober, more or less. Certainly the beers took the edge off but the enormity of dangers, dangers created by NORTHCO, to the area was so great. I mean danger trees and danger to other foliage and danger to critters and danger to human beings.

He checked his email and found a hello from Bernice.

What are you doing tonight? The email relayed.

Came in at 5:30PM evidently. Well, I missed a party tonight. Hahaha

He sat on the couch and pulled out a doobie he had rolled that morning after he had grabbed a last beer. He clicked on his favorite double feature:

Subway Slut & Thigh Noon.

He awoke suddenly from his sofa paradise. There was someone calling to him:

I need to go out now.

What?

I need to go out NOW!!!

Sparky, glowing in the night light was standing on all fours in front of him.

Okay.........Slowly Sean removed himself from the couch and went to the front door and opened it up for Sparky's easy exit.

OPEN WIDE FOR SPARKY, Sean sang.

He waited by the open door until the mutt performed his duties, welcomed him back in, shut the door and moved into the bedroom.

Did that dog just speak to me? Sean drifted into a deep sleep.

Frank awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. He ran into the bathroom and let loose. After finishing his duties he took a look as was his practice before flushing. IT GLOWED.

NOW THERE IS SOME HOLY SHITE!!!!

Frank's breathing became difficult, he was gasping for air and he began to perspire profusely. Then he began writhing in pain issuing from his gut.

MY GOD I AM GOING TO DIE!!!

Frank awoke, it was morning.

Another terrible dream. I got to get some sedatives or something. What in the hell is going on, Frank thought as went into the bathroom to 'check things out'.

Frank arrived at work an hour early. He was kind of relieved that his office was still there. Thank God Sean had been running things for the last ten day. He had half of the normal stack of mail he would have received over the vacation days.

Well let's do it, he thought. He went through the normal reports from accounting and personnel and procurement. Frank quickly dictated everything. It was kind of neat. His dictation went right into the office computer and he could see what he had been saying. Jenny's job was simply to 'polish' everything.

He was old fashioned enough that he liked to sign hard copies for the file. That way there was a paper trail. He instructed Jenny that everything had to go by Sean first, since he did not wish to countermand some order by his subordinate which would only underline the mess he most probably created by his impromptu absence.

As he was finishing up this onerous task, he found a package from the Federal EPA marked 'confidential'. It was thick and all Frank thought was 'oh oh'. It had not been opened and ...there was no post mark on the damn thing. What the hell? He opened it carefully after looking around. It was 9:00 o'clock already and he was not sure he wanted anyone to see this package. He stepped over to the window overseeing the office and shut the blinds.

There was a cover letter inside the package written in ink of all things:

Mr. Frank Stanton:

We greet you from the Underground EPA. We advise that you not share this with any of your co-horts at NORTHCO at this time.

We know what you have been doing. And we are watching you closely.

We enclose pictures of flora and fauna in your area as well as five other areas across the country. You should notice a pattern...

As he reviewed the correspondence he glanced at the pictures referenced.

That's enough of that Frank thought. He bundled it all up again into the envelope and tossed it in his brief case. This looks like homework to me.

He called Jenny in.

Jenny, I am sorry for the extra work. Do what you can with my correspondence.

All ready began the set up Frank. Don't worry.

Okay. Thanks Jenny. See if you can get Bernice from accounting in here and Sean. Sean should be first. Then get Tom. That should keep me busy for the rest of the morning.

Jenny left and five minutes later Sean entered. Sean carefully shut the door behind him.

You all together today Frank?

Horrible nightmares Sean but I was surprisingly rested when I came to at your place. I have heard that people who have had seizures have a kind of rested composure after they awaken. At any rate, I just received a semi-anonymous package today from a government office, believe it or not. Can you drop by to go over it tonight?

For sure.

Now Sean as far as the office stuff, I can see you did a lot of work because my mail was half what it normally would be. And I thank you for that.

You are welcome.

I dictated memos and letters and Jenny will get them to you to review before they go out. Just make any changes you wish and get them back to her. Okay?

Yes; of course. Say I thought I had my own nightmare last night. But it turned out not to be a nightmare. Sparky spoke to me last night.

Are you sure you were not dreaming Sean?

I was sure I had been dreaming until I noticed my entertainment center was still on. I had hit record on a permanent set up I have in there. It records all sounds coming into the room. I did it for a number of reasons, one which is nefarious in nature.

Frank rolled his eyes, as if he could not guess. Dogs do not have the proper larynx for this, do they?

You ever see those videos on TV, Frank? I did not say that Sparky sounded like Ronald Coleman or anything. But Sparky made himself clear. At least clear to me.

But there was the recording this morning. I will bring it by tonight.

Good. Better stay off this subject. Do you see Alernon today?

He is supposed to show up at noon. We shall see.

Thanks Sean. So far it is just you and me...and Sparky I spose.

Sean chuckled and left.

He pulled out the reports from Bernice in accounting.

Oh, why here it is. 40% of the income for last month came from the Government including DOD. But what the report does not say and cannot say is that another 38% came from contractors WHO GET ALL THEIR GODDAMN MONEY FROM THE GOVERNMENT.

And this was all 'worked out'. NORTHCO had its own 'constituency in government'. NORTHCO had been allotted too much money according to the dems, since they had no idea even what NORTHCO actually did but the repubs managed to get the monies they want to the corporations they want by filtering monies through other contractors.

But Frank could not get a grasp on what these monies were being used for. As far as the info he gleaned from his personal computer, there was no heading of armaments involved here. But what does he know?

Something clicked, he went back to the brief case and took out the three page letter:

There are at least five areas where the results seen on the enclosed pictures are demonstrated.

North NY State, Buffalo area

Eastern South Dakota

Western suburbs of Atlanta Georgia.

Salem Oregon

Las Vegas

Holy shite. There it is. NORTHCO has offices in four places that he knows of and they are all listed here. Las Vegas though; I wonder.

There was a knock at the door of Frank's office; he quickly tucked the letter into his suit coat and responded:

Enter.

It was Bernice from accounting. Hi Frank. I assume you have the reports so I just grabbed a bunch of completed forms here.

Oh come in Bernice. It's all ok. I assure you. There are just a few questions I have and I thought maybe you might have an answer.

Sure Frank.

Is there...Does NORTHCO have an office in Vegas?

Uh...Bernice was wondering if Frank had clearance for this information. After all she received the information about Vegas in the strictest confidence. But Bernice had been bothered by a number of things lately...like her hands glowing, actually GLOWING at times. And Sean had mentioned off handedly that Frank was helping him with his dog.

Frank, I have to speak frankly with you but I am afraid.

Frank rose up from his chair and walked around his desk to shut the door. He normally did not shut the door in his office when a woman was alone with him, but he needed some information.

Well. I can promise confidentiality. I am not going to pretend you are getting much more than a promise from me, but I do not think you have cause to believe that I will cross you on this. It is up to you, but you can sure save me some time if I can get some simple answers anyway.

We have had an office in Vegas for three years. Bernice blurted it out like a preschooler caught in the school yard throwing dog poop at Billy Thorton... But I digress.

What exactly do we do there?

Frank, I do not even know what we do here.

God, I thought I was the only one, responded Frank.

What information are you privy to concerning the Vegas operation Bernice?

We should not talk about this here Frank.

You are right. Listen, another friend whom I trust here is coming over to my place about six. Could you make it.? I will order Chinese or something.

Love to. I have wanted to speak to somebody about these 'matters' for a long time.

But we keep this between us, right Bernice?

She nodded. Bernice was going to ask who the other 'friend' was but she had an idea it was Sean. And maybe she could work out something with him after the 'meet' so to speak. She had no idea why, but she was soooooooooo horny lately. Then she thought about the neon affect on her hands. I wonder if these things are related?

NORTHCO QUAD

2009-10-25T03:13:00.001-07:00

Flying and glowing Photinus pyralis, a firefly. Female of Lampyris noctiluca, the Common Glowworm.

My Dad, he worked in a quandary in Northern Minnesota for thirty five goddamn years and never smiled except when he had the Three Stooges on Television. Oh how he loved Larry, Moe and Curly. We would just laugh it up. All seven of us.

But never a kind word to his kids. We had Mom of course. When I think about it, at 35 years of age, my mom looked fifty five. Lines on her face looked like roads to the mine up there. Deeply rutted by years of ice and snow and rain....Mom's face was rutted by loss and sadness and tears. I honestly cannot remember Dads ever taking Mom out to dinner. He would bring her a box of chocolates on Valentine's Day and her birthday never realizing that she was allergic to chocolate. Mom would simply hand out the candy while he was at work to the children.....

Sean could not stand Algernon. And since he was privy to the personnel files, he knew that Algie (as he humourously referred to him) grew up in northern New York State in a suburb just west of Buffalo. His father had been a math professor at a local community college and his mother was a convicted drug dealer. Anyone could properly discern this if they simply listened closely to his endless narratives. I mean a quandary was probably as close to a quarry as Algie ever got. AND WHO THE HELL WOULD EVER EVER EVER WISH TO LISTEN CLOSELY TO A PSYCHOPATH?

Oh Algie was a bore-ass as Ralph used to call such spewers of drivel, but Algie was a psychopath. Even NORTHCO would send him away for a couple of weeks to a mental ward in the Twin Cities every year or so and for good reason. The last furlough that Algie received had to do with a local ranger who caught him torturing raccoons in the old forest where the old road ran. He would use this poison dart gun, shoot the poor buggers, and then begin removing their little claws.

When Algie was confronted with his inhumane treatment of the little masked critters, he remarked:

HAVE YOU EVER WITNESSED WHAT THESE BUGGERS DO TO BIRDS THAT HAPPEN TO FALL OUT OF NESTS...TOO YOUNG TO FLY AWAY FROM THE GRASP OF THESE MONSTERS AND NOT PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FLEE ON FOOT.

How did such a sociopath ever end up at NORTHCO? It appears that Algie was somehow related to the CEO of NORTHCO years ago and NORTHCO hardly ever fired anyone, once that person was hired. Oh the ranks were thinned from time to time through death and such, as we previously pointed out in this narrative. But there was a strange policy in this company to keep everyone on salary and keep everyone in their little part of the project.

Algie, we must focus on the problem here. Now I gave you the file on this complaint from the local ranger. We cannot piss him off. We must show that NORTHCO cares about what is going on in its neighborhood. Now you are the top chemist here. I want you to come up with a working paper where we demonstrate that pollution comes from other sources. Like the local power plants or factories upstream--including the lumber companies. Okay?

Sure Sean. I am working on it. The constipationaries are grouping together and I understand the problem here.

Good Algie. And I assume you mean constituencies. Right?

Whatever!!!

With that Algie was gone, back in his cubicle where he spent half his time. The other half was spent in the lab in the basement. These were the only working papers that might give Sean a clue as to what the hell was going on in the basement.

He had kind of agreed with Frank that information had to be gleaned from documents in his own section here at NORTHCO. He was especially bothered today because the drive way leading to the entry carved out for trucks to get to the lower level was being retarred again. Did not they just do that last week...no two weeks ago. Is that normal?

It hit him because there were always new ruts and cracks in that driveway, hell in the entire driving and parking areas at NORTHCO. There must be some substance being transferred into NORTHCO OR OUT OF NORTHCO that was dangerous enough to attack streets. And if this substance or these substances were that dangerous to the health of roads, what the hell was the danger to trees and grass? What about human beings?

Meanwhile Frank had showered--the longest shower he had taken since he was 16--and threw all his clothes including his shoes in the garbage. He felt odd to say the least. He was not even tired. In fact he felt reinvigorated for reasons he could not know.

He pulled up his hidden PC and started googling. He felt so stupid he just stayed on Wiki most of the time. Bioflorescence. That is where he started. I mean there were all these pictures of deep sea animals. Of course you have to shine ultraviolet light on those jelly fish and such. But geeeeez, I mean some of these jelly fish look like signs in Time Square. They did not just shine, they glittered. They flashed like neon signs of the most significant nature.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/03/090317-new-rainbow-jellyfish-picture.html

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/09/photogalleries/fish-red-fluorescence-photos/photo3.html

But he stopped cold for a second, looking at the glowing green worms that secreted this glowing mucus.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/photogalleries/glowing-green-worms/

Then Frank began to look elsewhere. Great pictures from National Geographic for instance. Frank was also interested in intentional gene splicing. Animals including mammals have been experimented upon in order to give them the magic sheen prevalent in bugs of the night and animals of the deep sea. Kind of a Dr. Moreau type of experimentation. The logical conclusion, which sometimes catches us in a most ridiculous web, would be sights of rabbits with lizard heads or fish with long arms containing five finger hands. Ha

But the splicing of genes had begun. http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/news/animals-news/fluorescent-dogs-apvin.html

http://google.nationalgeographic.com/search?access=p&entqr=0&output=xml_no_dtd&sort=date%3AD%3AL%3Ad1&ie=UTF-8&btnG.y=10&client=default_frontend&q=gene+splicing&btnG.x=45&ud=1&site=default_collection&oe=UTF-8&proxystylesheet=default_frontend&ip=10.11.30.252&filter=p

Then he found the article on glowing jack-rabbits. There had been reports of these monsters but how the hell do you track something like that down. I mean it had to be some sort pollution involved. There were many things that were being accomplished as far as tracking down these idiosyncrasies of nature or as he called them exceptions to 'the natural course of things'.

The actual cleanup began this week.

An estimated 50 million gallons of liquid wastes from Cold War plutonium-production processes -- laced with radioactive cesium and strontium salts -- were dumped in a 13.7-square-mile area south of central Hanford's 177 underground radioactive waste tanks. That dumping ended more than 40 years ago.

Similar dumping happened at a two-square-mile site in north-central Hanford.

Jackrabbits routinely burrowed into those sites.

They found the salt, liked it, and licked it.

Later, they pooped it, leaving slightly radioactive scat all over the ground.

http://www.seattlepi.com/local/410808_radioactivepoop5.html

Turns out the jack rabbits had found some radioactive substances laying around. Their shite glowed in the dark.

The government has actually came up with a low-flying poop detectors.

Now there might not even be radioactive substances at NORTHCO but something was going on. Or maybe there was. How the hell would he know.

Frank thought of something, with a start, and ran outside to retrieve his bag of clothing. He might not wish this package to further pollute some dump site when it could be tested. Tested for 'things'.

He phoned up Freddy. Took an hour to get a return but there he was. The only guy in the fraternity who found himself buck naked, in the middle of downtown Minneapolis, carrying a sign that said:

I'M A FARMER WHO NEEDS A MECHANIC

Well hello there Franky. How is the gay caballero today?

Once in Cincinnati and I am branded for life Freddy?

Hahahahahaahahahahah What can I do for you my friend?

Freddy, I have a ticklish situation here and the first thing I need is total confidentiality.

You got that Franky. What's her name and her alleged age?

No, no, no Freddy. No problems on that arena, thank God. I work for a company called NORTHCO. I have been with them for ten years and I still do not know what they manufacture.

How the hell does that go down Frank?

Well we can go into that at a later date. But I do know that 80 cents of every dollar made comes from the Feds. The rest comes from investments and I play no small part in all of that. We are secluded up here in the Dakotas and there is some shit coming down that scares the hell out of me Fred. There are environmental changes of the first order and I need some help as I investigate it on the QT. Now you work for those green nuts.

You bet I do Frank and I am proud of it.

I know you are so proud Fred. And all those years we fought about this issue, I am having a rebirth of sorts. A real baptism of fire. Fred I ended up in the woods the other day. I mean we have blue deer, dogs and coons that glow in the dark and I think I am ill because of all this. My personal and secret physician is checking this out.

You mean Kev?

You got it. He is up in Fargo and he has sent out for some tests to be done on my blood. But I need some tests performed on my clothes. I have a full bag of clothes that I woke up in the other day after blacking out for three or four days. There is gook all over them and I know the stuff came from that part of the forest I just told you about....

And you would like me to take a look at the chemicals and such that I find on those clothes?

The two continued to speak on Frank's second phone. The cell phone tied to his private internet and put on the same outside billing. Freddy told him how to properly package the material and the address where he should send that package. Freddy acknowledged the need for secrecy having dealt with many whistle blowing cases. He had been burned several times by private corporate security stings; but his company was privately funded per groups like the Sierra Club and he trusted it completely. Hell, he invested his entire life into this company and its causes. Freddy was 'all in' as in the Texas Holdem game. His entire life had been put into the pot so to speak.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Frank got up and ...there was Sean.

Aren't you supposed to be at work?

Frank, it's six O'clock. Works over and you have to show up tomorrow.

Well what are you doing here?

Come on in Sparky.

Sparky entered, sparkling as ever.

Well hello spanky, how ya doin, said Frank.

Sparky stopped panting and laid down in a slump.

What the hell's the matter with the mutt Sean?

Sean whispered: Call him Sparky you idiot.

Frank frowned. Now I have to show deference to a mutt. Jeeeeeeez. Well hello Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaarky!!!

Sparky immediately jumped out of his malaise and yipped in ecstasy.

Well I'll be damned.

Never did that before Frank. Hell I used to call him chicken brains. Hahaha.

Well come in. You want a beer or something?

Sure. Sean followed Frank into the kitchen. I took him to the vet today. Just now. And the vet was astounded at this glowing. He took some blood and will get back to me. But according to him, Sparky should be full grown by now. Instead of 45 pounds he is supposed to be 65 pounds. And his actual size is much smaller than it is supposed to be. As a matter of fact, Sparky has shrunk.

Frank dropped the bottle of beer onto the floor. It bounced. He carefully set it on the counter and grabbed another one, handing it to Sean.

Sean. We have to have an understanding here. We talked about this before. But what is said between us must be kept between us. Understand?

Frank, I have not discussed this with anyone. And I do not intend to talk about it with anyone.

Frank fixed a bowl of water for Sparky and found some old dry dog food he had kept for Ralphy and set them down on the floor. Sparky was pleased.

Frank was sure the pup was looking at him with delight or some such. Eeeeeewwww.

Frank told Sean about Freddy and how he was going to send him his clothing from the night (week?) before. He also showed him his findings on the PC.

Sean shared with him his plan to get some documents from Algie.

Sparky had fed himself and was lying on the floor next to the beer drinkers.

Frank swore that the mutt looked at him funny, like Frank would make a nice dessert or something.

NORTHCO TRE: The Munchkins

2009-10-25T03:11:00.000-07:00

http://strawberryfieldsforever.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/munchkins2.jpg

Wednesday came and there were still no signs of Frank. Sean had to take the shuttle to work from the project--as they like to call it. He told Bernice in accounting that the damn car was in for repairs.

I mean, he could not figure it out. The damn seat kept changing positions on him. He could hardly reach the brake peddle that morning. He was just using the electric switch to rearrange the seat weekly, or it seemed that way anyhow; but what if it screwed up while he was driving?

At 5:30 Sean knocked off and while he headed for the shuttle he 'noticed' THE CASTLE and decided to visit it for some repast. I mean he had been working double duty since Frank's absence. He deserved a break and since Sparky was gone and all........what the hay?

Moseying over to his table he stopped at the bar and ordered a pitcher of their finest.

Maria brought him his package in short time. God she's pretty. So diminutive, it occurred to him that the tray would be heavy for someone like her. Thank you Maria, Sean said after slipping her a five spot. As she walked back to the bar all Sean could think about what her pretty mouth. Oh how he would like to put......

God I love this stuff, he thought.

Hey Seany, how in the fuck are you doin'?

Holy Christ its Tom from personnel. Smile...Jesus he hated this guy.

Hey Seany you got a sec? Tom asked.

Of course Tom, grab a chair. The party is here, Sean responded.

Tom sat down and Maria showed up out of nowhere with an extra mug. Oh God it's cold. You know I never get used to it, Tom thought. But the air is so clean and pure and the interrelationships are much better so he was glad he was out of St. Louis.

Tom grew up just outside of St. Louis. His mother was a member of the board for the local church and worked part time at the local lingerie shop. Dad sold used tires out of the garage but picked up enough money in his towing operation to fill the family needs. Raising seven kids was no easy feat, even in an all white suburb. Dad even made it on the City Council until those damn rumors about dealing weed started to surface. LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AT TIMES.

Maria brought over a tray of hors d'oeuvres that included those fried pickles. Best fried pickles he ever ate, thought Sean. God I hope he does not get into politics today, thought Sean.

You know that black bastard doesn't even have any right to sit in an oval office where all those heroes resided all those years. Those fucking liberals are now in charge and all they want is our money so they can help out people that aren't worth one goddamn...I think there is going to be another revolution comin and its no wonder. It's those goddamn voting machines you know, its all a plot to make us socialists and ...

SHUT THE FUCK UP. Tom, shut the fuck up.

Tom was startled. After all they were peers. Sean had no leverage over him. As a matter of fact Tom actually made more money than Sean. Who the hell is he to tell me to shut up.

Sorry Tom, Sean said while pouring him another beer. I just cannot take any politics today. You know I am much more concerned with Northco and Frank. I mean Frank has been gone ten days and it's a mess on the third floor and all. At any rate I'm sorry. Let's just keep it at that. OK?

Sean never knew his dad and his mom had been an actress, in those exotic movies of the fifties and early sixties. There had just been he and Billy. But he remembered Ralph. Ralph was his best friend in those days. One day Ralph just showed up and stayed at Sean's home until both he and his brother graduated from high school.

Ralph was a tall, good looking Black man and Sean could not stand racist clap trap. No matter how drunk he got.

Okay, okay...I am just upset about where this country is headed is all

All of a sudden Bernice from accounting came by and both the gentlemen invited her in.

Why thank you, Bernice said. Bernice really like those fried pickles and secretly had a thing for Sean. She really liked Frank but he scared her for some reason.

Sean was self conscious when Bernice was around. My god I am 49 years old and a woman can still make me nervous. When the fuck am I goin to grow up anyway, he thought. He loved watching Bernice eat those fried pickles. She would take a slow bit after it entered her mouth; she kind of just sucked on the morsel a bit and her lips would purse up so pretty and.........geeeeeeez get a goddamn grip son!!!

Any word on Frank, Sean? Bernice had been a little more than just upset over Frank's absence. That was clear to Sean if not to others in management.

The trio ordered dinner and while they supped a troop of troubadors appear, properly dressed in old English attire. There were five of them, and something struck Sean immediately.

THEY ARE ALL SO SHORT.

Have you ever seen these guys before Bernice?

Oh, Sean you never play here on Wenesday's and this is a regular 'spot' for this band. The Gay Mandolins, they are called.

HELLO CASTLE DWELLERS, WE ARE THE GAY MANDOLINS AND WE PRESENT TO YOU ALL A SONG OF HOPE:

Something in the ale that moves

That tastes just like no other

Something in the ale that woo woos me

I cannot just leave it now

Don't think I'll go right now

DOO DOO DO DO DO DO

Somewhere in this pint is gold

I don't need no other lover

Something in her style is not lonely

Don't want to leave right now

I'll just stick around right now

You're asking me will other hops grow

Who will sow them, I don't know

Others may try to brew and brew

If I knew, if I knew

Something in the ale is gold
And all I have to do is drink of her
Something in the ale that moves me

Don't want to leave her now
You know I believe her now

Do do do do do do

Yeah. Cried the crowd on onlookers.

Great song sparkled Bernice.

Sean smiled and nodded. But inside, he was scared shiteless. These little people with painted faces frightened the bejeesus out of him. He was sweating profusely and his right hand was trembling as he slugged down some more ale.

I better go, I have an early start tomorrow, Sean said leaving a twenty on the table.

You took the shuttle, right Sean? inquired Bernice.

Ah, yeah. Sean had forgotten he had no car.

Well I should go also, mind if I tag along on the shuttle?

As they left the Gay Mandolins began singing:

We represent the NORTHCO-op guild

The NORTHCO-op guild

The NORTHCO-op guild

We represent the NORTHCO-op guild

And in the name of the NORTHCO-op guild

We wish to welcome you to Castle Grand!!!

Oh Sweet Jesus Sean sighed as the two escaped into the cool night.

Sean awoke to heavy snoring. WHAT THE FU......?

He looked around. It seemed like his room, facing east...same dimensions. He turned to his right and there was Bernice. My god she needs one of those nose things or something. He crawled out quietly and grabbed his under things and put on his pants. Where is my goddamn shirt, anyway?

As he turned to leave from the darkened room--the sun had not yet risen and the drapes were the old fashioned thick sort that let no light into the room; Sean saw her right foot glowing in the dark as it fell out from beneath the blanket. Not one for a night light this Bernice; but with her gifts she probably does not need one.

He managed to get out into the cold morning air. Oh, that Bernice has a way, let me tell yoooooooooooo. Wow!! But he had to cleanup and such for work and it was a good thing that his house was only three blocks from here.

Where did someone like Bernice learn how to do some of those things anyway? Christ, she could do this act professionally.

As he got closer and closer to his yard he noticed a figure by his door laid out with an orange ball. What the h.........

He increased his pace and as he got closer to his front door he saw it was a man. IT WAS FRANK. And the ball was ...could that be Sparky?

Frank stood up. He looked like something the dog dragged in. His clothes were ripped and filthy. He had not shaved and his face was filthy.

Frank!!! What the hell happened? You look like shite.

Sean? Holy cow, what the hell am I doing here?

Sean quickly unlocked the door and shuffled Frank in, Sparky sparkled with excitement, following the two roués inside and quickly running over to his feeding dish in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Sean shuffled Frank into the living room and helped him onto the sofa. Here, let me get you some water.

Sean ran into the kitchen and, putting some ice in a glass he ran some tap water and rushed to his friend's aid.

Frank scarfed it down. You want some more Frank?

Uh..uh...how about juice?

Sure be right back. Sean fixed some coffee and poured some juice while it brewed and brought the glass back to Frank.

What the hell happened? Did we go to the Castle last nice Sean?

Holy crap. Maybe I should call 911 or something.

NO NO NO NO. Sean just let me ...let me gather myself. After I get home I will clean up. Tell them I will be in tomorrow. Geeeeeeeez this is my vacation. What the hell date is it?

It is October 23rd Frank. You have been on vacation and this is the Thursday after that week already ran. Frank the authorities have been looking for you for at least three days. This'll be the fourth.

Say what? Vacation, I never...suddenly Frank recalled Fargo and Kevin and the casino. But how the hell did he end up on Sean's front stoop?

Just then they both heard something in the drive way. Oh good its my car, just a sec Frank.

Sean ran outside the front door. The driver got out of the vehicle and there was the autoshop's car on the street waiting.

Just sign here Mr. Santana.

Sean looked at the document and signed quickly taking the keys.

What the hell was wrong with it Sid?

Nothing Mr. Santana. Not a darn thing. Sid said as he turned his back to get to his car waiting in the street.

Sean suddenly remembered Ma's favorite line:

THANKS, THANKS FOR NOTHIN'!!!!

After getting inside again Sean fixed the coffee and sat with Frank awhile. They spoke of Fargo and Sean promised to be discrete. Frank was in no mood to talk of his stature problem. Sean spoke of the 'munchkins' singing at the Castle.

Do you suppose the munchkins were the little people we saw in the garage and on the fourth floor Sean?

I thought of that. Who knows? They certainly had the right stature if you get my drift. But they were wearing costumes and it really was not something I wished to check out. I just wanted to go elsewhere.

Speaking of elsewhere, where were you last night?

Oh I...well Frank a man has needs!!!

Oh yeah. Hahahahahahaha. What's her name...nonono...don't tell me, I have no time for soap operas right now.

What is the last thing you remember Frank?

Right now, all I remember is that I was driving home from Fargo on th..Friday. Yeah, that's it Friday. And for some goddamnable reason I ended up on the old road. Remember the old road, Sean. It was supposedly abandoned for the new road because of 'ground' problems. Supposedly there were running water problems so they were going to simply destroy it and, I suppose, cover it owver and let it mesh into the surrounding forest. Well, it is still there. Nothing wrong with it.

Any way I saw something in the road or alongside the road or some such. I get out of my car on the side of the road and............blank. Nothing. Nada. Until I wake up here. With that mutt of yours. Which reminds me, do you realize that Spanky glows in the dark?

Yeah yeah yeah. But its Sparky.

What do I tell them at work Frank?

Tell Sphincter--aint it funny how some people have names that really describe them well--you got a call from me. That I had car problems and I was coming into town this morning and will make it to the office tomorrow.

Speaking of cars, where the hell is your car Frank?

I do not have the faintest idea Sean.

NORTHCO TOO

2009-10-25T03:07:00.000-07:00

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Frank awoke in a sweat. Something was not right.

There it was again. The noise is what woke him. He gathered himself and quietly exited the bed, moving quietly to the bureau and opening the lowest drawer to grasp his 45.

This all took him back to his Air Force training. He slid into his slippers and moved to the window of his bedroom that looked over his front yard.

No vehicles. It was inordinately dark due to the new moon and the cloud cover. The garage light was on. Since it was not on when Frank retired some four hours prior, and since the light was movement sensitive; the game was afoot as they say.

He edged down the hall He had grabbed his pen flashlight at the same time as he grabbed his gun and was using it to aid him in his present pursuit. He had to assume that this could all be a false alarm. He certainly could have dreamt the noise. Hell a squirrel or a skunk could have triggered the garage light sensor.

There it is. There it is again he thought.

WHO THE FUCK IS IN HIS HOUSE?

Slowly he proceeded down the staircase. Frank was pissed because the sweat was flowing profusely down his brow. He stopped to wipe his forehead with his pajama sleeve.

There it is again.

HALT. HALT I SAY.

A light, a flicker, a movement.

Pop!!!

Instinctively Frank fired his weapon from the lowest step of the staircase. He fired at the menacing figure in his sights.

Oh my God!!! I just shot Sean!!!

Frank awoke to find himself on the floor in front of his entertainment center. He was covered in perspiration now and quickly found himself to the wall switch and turned on the light.

HOLY JESUS. It was just a dream. Just to make sure he ran upstairs and checked the bureau drawer and sure enough, there was the forty five as well as the flashlight.

Damn I hate that. That moment in the middle of the night where you are sure you have just awakened only to discover that you have simply continued into another dream.

He went back downstairs, since the adrenaline would prevent any sleep in the short term; got to the kitchen, made coffee and settled down in his executive chair for a smoke.

The moral is: keep your eyes open for you know not the day nor the hour.

WHAT THE HELL DAY IS IT ANYWAY?

He pressed the button and the pc appeared. Shortly he was on line. Three AM on the fourteenth. Hell its Monday. What the hell happened to Sunday? And what the hell was he doing on the floor?

Frank got to the office an hour and a half early. When he awoke from his nightmares he always went to work early. Somehow it shook the ghosts from the previous evening out of his inner soul.

He checked his desk and pulled out Monday's file. Sure enough, there were his weekly instructions; a meeting early on and the rest of the day on his company computer. He needed some time off.

Frank approached Sphincter after the meeting.

Sir I need a couple days. I have not been feeling up to snuff lately.

Frank. You are drinking too much. Tell you what. You have 45 days vacation time coming and our new policy is that if you do not use it in the next 15 months it's gone. Things are pretty much under control here.

Clean up your desk and check in with Sean and take off at noon.

See you next week Frank.

Frank got on the phone and set up appointment with Kevin. Kevin was an old undergraduate buddy and his secret physician in Fargo. Frank chose him because Fargo was untraceable. I mean why would anyone check in at Fargo for any reason? Different state altogether, and less predictable as far as tracking down his records than Minneapolis.

Frank really never trusted anyone and that was how he had become a hermit; hell that is why he took a position with a corp in the middle of nowhere. Frank not only distrusted people, he really did not like them.

He cleaned up his paper work and called Sean into his office. Sean would take over his duties for the rest of the week.

Where ya goin Frank? Someplace warm I hope. Ha

Oh I will sally forth to the cities Sean. I have some old girl friends over there and it will be fun to eat out at some of the old restaurants. I will even take in a play and stop and see some old friends at the U.

Sounds like fun. And no drug tests for the next six months. Ha.

Frank bid Sean adieu and went back home to pack. Covered the pc with a special software that only he could crack and hit the road.

He started east just in case he was being followed and took a highway in Minnesota north to Fargo.

The old ghosts, as always, began making their voices heard. He grabbed a stogie from the glove compartment and put Bach into his stereo.

As he reached the outskirts of Fargo Frank stopped at the Hilary. He ordered the seafood platter after knocking down a Martini.

Frank awoke in the hotel across the street, careful to leave his car where it was; in the parking lot of the restaurant. No byes on the DUI's in Fargo. Ha. He cleaned up and went to Kevin's clinic.

Weight, height, BP, blood and urine. The normal protocol for his yearly check in with Kevin.

So how is your ass Frank? Asked id Dr. Kevin as he entered. We playin' poker tonight? And I hope you brought more cash than just for your visit with me, You know, you really have a CEO health care package. Why do you never cash in on that here? Oh, it is the old paranoia is it not?

Frank never used his health insurance for these visits. The records would end up with the insurance company and on Sphincter's desk within the week.

You bet. I never hit casinos anymore Kev unless its with you. But let's take a shuttle this time and get a cab back, ok?

Sounds good. Now the tests will not come back until tomorrow, Jason's a little behind on things. But...

But...what?

How tall are you Frank?

Oh come on Kev. They just measured me.

No, I am serious.

6 with an inch to spare. You know that. It says right there, pointing to the file in the doctor's hand.

5'9" Frank. Here come with me.

They went out of the office and into the hall to the scale and the measurement was taken again....

Frank headed home on Friday using the shorter route and skipping Minnesota this time. Two grand richer via a machine. Hah. He would have been three grand down because of Hold Em had it not been for the machine.

Depression was grabbing him. 48 years old and he had lost four inches in height. Kevin could not explain it.

What about my clothes? My pants fit the same as they did before. He should have cuffs scraping the floor? Shirts fit just fine. And why did he have no problems with his shoes? And the coats and the....

None of this made any sense to Frank. Kevin got the test results back. Everything checked out. But Kevin was upset and took some more blood. He had a buddy at Mayo and was sending the fluid down to Rochester for further testing.

All of a sudden the car stopped. Frank noticed that he was on the old road again; about ten miles from home. He had slowed down because he saw something in the road and pulled over to the shoulder to investigate. It was about thirty degrees, cool even up here for mid October and the stars and moon shown bright. Still no snow. He looked west and saw some shadows moving.

Frank was not heard from for awhile.

The week passed and Sean got to work one minute early. Sean was a little 'anal' that way. NEVER GIVE THE BASTARDS AN EXTRA MINUTE. Well, one minute so there would never be an issue. This all when Sean put in at least eight hours on his pc at home on the weekends and at least eight more during the week.

Sean was a bit of a coward. And of course a control freak. All cowards are control freaks because they must fantasize that they have some control over a universe they know deep down is chaotic. However, except for raucous nights at the castle, his life certainly was one of quiet desperation.

It was noon when Mr. Spincter wandered into his office. Sean you are an acting Super for awhile.

Where's Frank?

We are attempting to discover that. Do you know where he was going last week.

Well he said the Twin Cities, his old haunts. He even spoke of visiting the U.

No, Sean. He never made the Twin Cities.

O my God said Sean. What could have happened to him? O, he might have changed his mind you know. I mean it was a free week. Maybe he did end up going south a ways. I suppose.

Well we have called his cells. His personal and his car phone. Nada. You sure Frank did not mention anything?

No Mr. Sphincter. I mean you have me concerned. I assure you I would not keep anything from you with regards to Frank anyway.

And in regards to anything else Sean?

Holy shite!!! What the hell was I thinking? Okay, gather yourself up boy.

Never mind idiot. Just make sure I get my t-4's and such over the next. Week. And if you hear anything, I WANT TO KNOW IMMEDIATELY. UNDERSTAND?

Understood, sir.

Sean left an hour later than usual that Monday. He was clearly shaken and decided to skip the castle on his way home. Flo had just moved out to live with her mother.

Don't you even want to know why Sean, she had said.

Of course he did not want to know why.

And since he had married rich, it should not cost him anything.

It was dark when he got home. Come on Sparkey, let's take a walk.

Arf. Arf. Sparkey, one of those smaller mutts that looks kind of like a lab came running in.

And Sean almost lost his lunch. Coming at him from the dark kitchen, Sean swore that Sparkey was sparkier than ever. I mean, he positively glowed.

Sparkey glowed blue in the dark. Since it was too late to do anything about it, if in fact anything could be done at all, Sean took his blue pooch out for his normal walk. All Sean could hope for was that the neighbors did not notice the anomaly. Quickly he took the dog to the trail in the wood, safely out of view.

Jesus H. Christ. Even his poop glows in the dark. Yuck.

There's something happenin here and I sure the hell do not know what it is, thought Sean.

Sparky sensed something in the bushes and pulled like crazy on the leash, until his collar broke. The little bugger took off on a start into the bushes, into the dark forest.

Sean took after the pet immediately screaming the nick name that now best described the little canine.

The idiot tripped on a fallen twig. Well Goddamn it all anyway. Hell, I don't even have my flashlight.

Just then Sean saw eight hungry eyes glowing in the dark. Staring straight at him and following him as he stood to leave. That was enough of his walk.

He ran home faster than he had run in a decade. Panting he got into the home. He ran to his little bar and fixed a three finger scotch and sat in the dark on his sofa. He still had not caught his breath and it seemed like seconds rather than fifteen minutes since the fall.

He grabbed the remote and put on a tune.

Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, and try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed

Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel when I'm in your hand
Take my hand, come under cover
They can't hurt you now can't hurt
you now, can't hurt you now

Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us [ x2 ]

Have I a doubt, baby when I'm alone
Love is a ring ,a telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed 'til the morning comes

Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel, under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't touch you now can't touch
you now, can't touch you now

Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us

He began to relax, finishing his drink and sinking into the sofa. He happened to look down.

His pants cuff was glowing orange.

NOTHCO

2009-10-25T02:58:00.001-07:00

http://stevenmulak.chicopee.com/images/Jennifers%20Clowns.JPG

Hey Frank, you want another beer.

In a bit Sean.

It's Friday Frank. Hell you are Friday Frank.

Yeah yeah...

All right. The others are not even here yet. So what is the matter? Just you and me.

I...I...
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.

Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.

At least his name is Al. hahahahahaha

There ya go Frank. A little yuck yuck.

All right Sean. Look. You are just a floor manager. I have to keep charge of the entire third floor and coordinate with the second.

Oh good, another briefing Frank. That's what I need. Another briefing.

Do you wish to know from whence my angst arose or not?

Go ahead, Sean said as the maid brought over the two new pints. Sean loved this place. Out in the middle of the plains. Nothing all around and here is this beautiful structure...looked like a castle. And the pints. Hey, English pints. The middle of the Plains and here was an English Ale House.

Well...Sean you must promise never to tell this to anyone. There is a fourth floor. I found out today.

What the hell?

Yeah. Go outside. Look at the damn building. And yet, I saw it. I was in a hurry and the second elevator is out so I run to the stairway on the WEST END. I never thought about it. And after I got through the door to the stairway I saw a door on my left inside it. But it was ajar. So I stopped and peeked in and there was a short stairway UP THE DAMN STAIRS. Someone must have fuck up and left the door open. Anyway I quietly found my way up about seven steps and came to another door. I opened it and there was an entire floor. Filled with desks and computers and twenty people scurrying around.

Only these people were strange. They were short. I mean, like under five feet tall. At least it looked like that from my perspective. And they were all wet from perspiration. And I swear they were all speaking a different language.

Stop. Stop this Frank. This is not even that funny. I mean its kind of funny but....if anybody else heard this, well you might find yourself in trouble.

All right. Time for Karioke I suppose. And with that Frank stopped his ranting in its track and they sang and spoke of beer maids and Ale Masters......

But Sean kept thinking about this as he drove home. Driving home was always a challenge. There were only two patrolmen in the area and it was common knowledge that between eleven and midnight no one would bother him on hwy 46. He had the radio on playing Cream. And he thought about the midgets.

There had been a late night business meeting on Tuesday and he ran into the parking ramp to get his car. He could never forget that night. Eight, maybe ten really short people were entering this minivan. It was like one of those stunts at the circus he used to see when he was a kid. The little clowns coming out of the little car. Sean had always been afraid of clowns. There is actually a clinical term for it.

Sean reached for a doobie in the glove compartment, shaking.

Frank awoke at home with his usual hangover. His wife had left more than a year ago and took everything but the dog. He had slowly procured a bed and a sofa and his 'man's chair' along with his great entertainment corner. One thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that there were cheap homes to be had. And with satellites he had the computer and TV with all the entertainment anybody could find anywhere. NORTHCO had built this housing project that contained a nice pond and even a nine hole golf course. Was not a building in the entire project built before 95. A series of wind turbines together with solar panels on all the structures provided over fifty per cent of all his energy needs.

But the seclusion and the secrecy and the stench from the cess pool in the summer was getting to Frank. The MONEY WAS SOOOOOO GOOOOD THOUGH. And since his living expenses were so low, especially with the advent of the divorce that he just could not think of leaving.

But work. NORTHCO was the strangest outfit he had ever worked for. He had been in the Twin Cities for fifteen years before coming here. And it was getting close to his tenth anniversary here.

An accounting degree and an MBA from his state university. Top grades. Worked for the old Northwest Banks in various capacities. Dealt in bonds, stocks, warrants...even some European inventions.

Ten years AND HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT THE HELL NORTHCO DID.
He threw three eggs in the blender along with some mozaralla and some salt and pepper careful to add some hot sauce and threw the jumbled mess in a pan and then went ahead a grabbed a Sam Adams.That was another strange thing about his employer. He hardly ever was called in to work on Saturday and never Sunday. I mean there were some fourteen hour days once in a great while, like the one on Tuesday.

But his actual job really was hard to describe. Turning the mess over in the pan and adding a cover he took the beer to his 'station' and turned on the pc. He had installed this gem all on his lonesome and nobody really knew he had it. The PC had one of those ears you plugged in and was separate from his entertainment set up.

The billing went to a debit card for an account he had kept in a small bank in Minneapolis for twenty five years. The only place the billing would ever be seen would be at that bank and in the pc. Just because my week ends are free does not mean I am not going to keep busy he thought, taking another swig of Sam.

Oh the damn eggs...ah just in time Frank thought as he looked at the pretty omelet. He had forgotten to toss some cut up green peppers and onions into the pan, but it looooooooooked good. He quickly grabbed a begal with some peanut butter on it and brought his breakfast plate to his secret station. He brought up his working paper on Word along with his diagrams. As he took another swig of Adams, the thought crossed his mind that the booze might be the reason that in ten years HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT HE DID FOR A LIVING. HA!!!

Looking at the schematic, on the third Word tab, he began adding the fourth floor that did not exist while munching on his omelet. He then cross referenced the dimensions of the building from the architectural plans with his estimates of the size of each floor. He pulled up the floor plans and reexamined them.

Damn, there was room for another floor or at least attic eight feet high. There it was the entire time.

But another thought struck him as he grabbed his coffee and a smoke after tossing the breakfast dishes in the sink. Part of his job had been to work with the procurement officer, Mr. Sphincter. Geeez where do you get a name like that and here we are in the twenty first century and that sphincter would not even use his first name.

Anyway, sucking on his poison stick, Frank had already demonstrated in his working paper that paper and staples and all sorts of supplies seemed out of whack; thirty percent too high. Frank had arrived a full two years after the structure had been built. And he knew about the discrepancies in the supply area but he always figured that sphincter or someone higher up was picking up a couple extra bucks on the side. He had seen this type of activity before and had just figured it had nothing to do with his job description. I mean he never actually entered any false figures on reports or such.

But the little people. He never recalled seeing little people at the Walfart where he purchased all his groceries and drugs and everything else he needed. He paid the project contractor for snow removal and such. So Frank barely had a shovel for years although he finally got a good machine since everyone else had one. He even put a Santa on the front stoop for show.

But where were Santa's elves? I mean where the hell were they? Again, the office, the English Ale House and the Walfart. God what a life. Despondency grabbed at him but he went for his sweet French Roast refill anyway. Grabbing another smoke....

He reviewed his list of duties again like he did every Saturday Morning. He worked closely with payroll. He did background checks on new employees although they were rare which led to another question. I mean, why was there hardly any turnover?

He made sure t-4's were filed every day, and on time. He cross referenced payroll with......

But there were no little people. I mean 1,456 employees and 1,456 checks. Every two weeks, no matter what. Thirty people had been replaced since he got there...but they had all died. Snowmobiling, cars, skiing...there were enough ways to kill yourself in the middle of nowhere.

Frank was sure he knew everyone. Slowly, with all that time on his hands he had collected all the profiles of all the employees and posted it onto his secret pc. After all these years he KNEW all the employees really.
But what exactly was NORTHCO's product?I mean he worked all the time on the investment side of things. Always brought back at least a ten percent net profit on all investments.

There were those huge vats, barrels of stuff that would roll out of NORTHCO and the empty barrels that would return.

There was the 'factory area' where he never went; was not allowed inside really. That stuff was in the basement. And the trucks that picked up the 'stuff' all headed north.

He did not give a damn about politics; kind of despised those green folks. But speaking of green folks, he did see those purple deer that one time on the way home. And there were those two beavers on the pond with two tails. Oh, and that entire stretch of highway that was shut down one week end when an new one was opened. He had driven home drunk one night, missed the curve and found himself on the old road. This blight had hit the forest on one side, the north side of the old road. Webs, strange webs were handing off leafless trees. After pondering this puzzle the next morning, Frank kind of put it out of his mind since he had tasted of Sean's weed that night before anyway.

Oh and Bernice from accounting had complained that her hands glowed in the dark from time to time but Frank just figured that she was getting too friendly with Sean's 'supplier'.

Why had Frank never worried about NORTHCO's actual 'product'. Well the money really. The fact that Frank really did not like people. He did not miss 'the busy downtown'. He did not miss the fine dining or dancing available in a big city. He could watch any movie or play he wished on his entertainment center.

Frank could kind of be a hermit when he was not at work. Hell at work he seldom had to be with any people really. He could just stay in his office facing the outside window and reading meaningless messages on his company pc. And that was okay for him.

While pondering his meaningless existence, there came a knock at the door. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

Collecting himself, Frank shut his secret pc down, pushing the button to hide machine. He opened the door and there was Sean.

All right then, you can come in but do not speak too much. The elves have been dancing.

Sean snickered, begged for some French Roast and they sat on the four season porch watching the squirrels and such.

Frank, I am much troubled. Troubled by what you spoke of last night at the ale house. No no no, do not shush me. I got to get something off my chest Frank.

When I was very young, four or five years of age...grandma Thompson took me and my no good brother to the circus. And I was much afeared about the lions and tigers and totally awed by the near naked ladies in tights on those high swings. And then, just as I was feeling the effects from some bad hot dogs that grandma got us, out comes this little tiny car. And out of this little car all these midget clowns got out, one by one by one.......and it never stopped. And I had the worst nightmares about it. I still have a bad dream once in awhile to this day. And I have to tell you. Last Tuesday, I went down to get my car and there were all these little people, a lot like the clowns in my dreams. And they were getting into this minivan. And they just kept piling in the van. And I got sick to my stomach just watching all this.

And then you Frank, this fourth floor. Well there is this Bernice in accounting and she and some of her friends will talk about the fourth floor from time to time. I thought it was some joke they heard on SNL or something. Like that Malkovitch movie...you know the one with Cusack. Even I started joking about it recently when Lawson, the VP overheard and called me over. He had objections to joking on company time. This bothers me much Frank.

Just look at those three happy squirrels over there Sean; some beautiful country out there.

Just then the three squirrels turned toward them. Only it was only one squirrel with six feet and three tails; and it appeared to be snarling at the two. In the background from the porch, both could hear the entertainment center. Singing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA6YXuagiuU

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA II

2009-09-29T15:16:00.000-07:00

O man, take care!
What does the deep midnight declare?
"I was asleep—
From a deep dream I woke and swear:—
The world is deep,
Deeper than day had been aware.
Deep is its woe—
Joy—deeper yet than agony:
Woe implores: Go!
But all joy wants eternity—
Wants deep, wants deep eternity

Nietzsche

At the beginning of the parable of the one legged cabby, Thomas is lost. He finds himself in ennui at best, dolor at the worst. He had not made his pittance for the day. By completing his daily goal he is enabled by the end of the month to take care of his needs, his rent, his food, his heat……..

At the last minute he espies the customer who can make his day…enable him to reach his daily goal.

He is stumped by the immediate goal. He knows not where it is and must seek direction from his employer. What is Northco? No that is not his question. Rather, where is NORTHCO. He is not in his present position capable of grasping what NORTHCO IS ANYWAY.

As oft times happens in life, we are only charged with the immediate task. One does not write a novel in a month or a week or a day. One does not build the Taj Mahal in a day or a week or a month. And we peons, we lowliest of the low (which represents 99% of all humankind) are not ‘let on’ to the grander plan as written in the sacred edict of the grand oligarchy. We are to only do our part, complete our small goal for the day.

Never assume the great professors of our day tell us. But we must assume or we cannot complete our tasks. We assume when we awaken that we are in our beds, in our own homes be they the grandest houses or the most meager of apartments. We assume the coffee pot is in the same place it has been for weeks and months on end. We assume there are no new holes in the flooring as we make our way to the bathroom from our beds. And so on. For that is our lot.

The powers that be tell our cabby what route to take for the destination of our fare. For three long years he has learned most of the routes available in this greater metropolitan area. He has driven in the rain before just as he has driven in the fog before or the snow storm before……

As soon as he takes the route suggested by his mentors, he begins to have misgivings of it all. Where am I really? What am I doing here, in this place, really? He has put himself in a spot where he must trust somebody or something in the outside world. A source that is not inner directed at all. And yet he cannot choose in midstream so to speak, he cannot opt for something different considering the circumstances. He must not admit to total chaos.

We shall return to Thomas at a later date. For now, think of the chaos. Ponder that chaos. Feel that chaos. For it is the reality of all life. We perceive patterns; we make assumptions only because we must have bearings of some sort.

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA

We shall now take a five minute break stated Horace, the blind leader of the tribe. Horace was the leader in that he was responsible for preparing the warehouse each day; collecting the remunerations each day; and cuing Gerry. Horace was like the agent.

Meanwhile Gerry Thustra adjusted his pajamas under his great flowing robe of red. His ‘costume’ had not changed in years, in decades really. His mustache and goatee were rather new, relatively. His booming voice had not changed over the decades at all, really, as he ventured into the new century finding himself at his own half century mark.

The flock present was around 900 good burban people. Lady shoppers and lady shop keepers. Businessmen and bums. Kids who would skip school from time to time. An eclectic crowd to be sure.

Now cometh Gerry Thustra, let the truth telling continue, shouted Horace the blind one.

Feeling the chaos may bring us peace at times. For we control very little while embarking on the path of mere mortals. We are angry at the powerful because they appear to have more control than us.

Now it is time for the Parable of “Sir Lionel”.

Sir Bors was one of four Knights of the Round Table to fulfill the Quest For the Holy Grail. Actually, according to the sage Mallory, Sir Bors embarked with his brother Lionel for the sacred prize.

The two knights from Brittany and lately from Camelot made their way on their journey to places unknown; to places unsung. Oh, they would find clues along the way. One great ogre who at first seemed to threaten a village turned out to be an oracle of sorts which led the two towards northern Wales from Cornwall.

During the last leg of that journey, the two questers stopped for repast at a local inn. The inners of this inn were quite mysterious. Dank and dark and dungeon like. There were four tables and they duly laid a coin upon the table, as was the Welsh custom and a fair maiden came with a pitcher of ale along with two large metal cups. A wash basis was provided as our heroes washed the road off of their faces and hands.

Just following their second pitcher, three rowdy knights appeared and a picked a table.

Bors and Lionel were so grateful to be served such a fine bird with baked roots that they barely heard the slights from the sinister crew sitting to their left. Just as the supping came to an end, one of the dark knights grabbed the maid and carried her out of the establishment.

Bors and Lionel immediately stood and yelled halt when the remaining two animals pulled their swords. Before the Camelot crew could react a sword went into Lionel’s back, causing excruciating pain. Bors, in two strokes of his mighty sword slew both knights.

He knelt down and tended to his brother.

I must retrieve the maiden from the evil horseman Lionel. Hold on until I return.

Sir Bors rose at once and ran to his steed, tracked down the maiden and brought her back to the inn after avenging Lionel’s wound. The opposing knight was struck asunder.

Upon his return, Bors found his brother without breath, dead to all the world.

A great dolour fell upon our hero, creating a wound from which he would never recover even after fulfilling his quest.

How should we judge our brothers?

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA!!!

This is cross posted at:

Arthur of the Roundish Table: Chapter Two

2009-09-28T16:16:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

PROBLEMS ASSOCIATED WITH PEACE

Arthur and his troops had engaged in twelve great battles, ending in the Great Battle of Mt. Badon, thereby vanquishing the pagan Saxons. Back at Camelot, Arthur is addressing his knights at the roundish table:

Today we must address the problems associated with peace. Many soldiers still on our dime and Kay the Seneschal is constantly asking for more supplies. Soldiers become antsy when they are not pursuing prey.

We have lost many peasants, which does keep down the surplus population as Merlin always loves to point out but they are not getting in the barley we need to sustain the amount of ale we have been swigging lately.

The Jews are being too tight with their purse strings and not lending enough to keep our blacksmiths burning their forges, to sustain the lumbering we need to keep the forests at bay, to sustain the cartwrights who keep our supplies on the road, to sustain the road workers who help our troops and to spur on our mercantilists and to keep our tailors from importing the wool from the north that is so scratchy in the place of the silks we used to import from Asia.

Sire, what pray tell is 'dime' Gawain called out.

Sire, what pray tell is a 'seneschal' cried Gareth.

Both good looking boys but none to quick in the area of the cranium.

Sire, sire, why not kill all the Jews and lend ourselves all the monies we need? Cried out half the hall.

No, no, no, said the King. I already discussed that possibility with Merlin and he reminded me that that was tried only forty years ago. Banking is just not in our blood. The traders from France ended up with all the money and so then we had to go conquer France again. Now do not get me wrong, I really like the food there. But the French smell funny and they are constantly protesting something and nobody wishes to work more than 32 hours a week.

What, Sire, do these French do with all their extra time? Queried Bedivere.

Oh Bedivere, the French spend a lot of time ravishing their females in violation of the rules set down by Our Lord Jesus Christ. And they also spend all their time writing something called poetry. I really do not understand it, but French ladies swoon over this poetry, especially with the added benefit of wine.....Anyway. We are not going to kill any Jews. I have been getting a good return on my investment, they tell me. I do not know what that means, but they say I already own a place called Monaco and now I am making even more money on these dice games.

But we must opt for change. We must see what we can do to hold my Realm together , work on our infrastructure and begin a new era.

But, Sire, what pray tell is infrastructure? Asked Gawain.

But, Sire, what is an era? Inquired Gareth.

Sire, we must go on a quest, called out Lancelot.

A multitasking quest cried Tristan. And .....Lancelot and I can stay here and protect the castle.

A quest called out the rest of the gathering. A quest

Bedivere chimed in: Sire there is a dastardly dragon in Caerleon. Women have been ravaged!!!

Tristan addressed Bedivere thusly, Bedivere, dragons do not ravage women. They may burn the maidens and they may eat the maidens but they cannot remove their maidenhood due to their anatomical structure.

Well then they are being eaten, and burned and ...and...savaged. That's it, savaged and we can not longer abide the savaging.

Tristan looked at Lancelot and smirked. Lancelot then added his two pence: Sire, there is an Ogre, a giant residing at St. Michael's Mount. The monster has been ravaging the locals and calling out for what he calls the sniveling Celts. It is time for us to answer its call.

Finally Gawain added these comments: There are rumors Sire that the King of a Hundred Knights is alive and well at Leeds. Ready to gather his last 14 knights and… and ...and call for a council of war!!!!!!!

LIVE AT LEEDS. LIVE AT LEEDS, sang the chorus of knights.

HOLD IT DOWN. What do you think this is, a press conference? And Gareth don't you dare ask me what a press conference is or I shall withhold the soothing cream we have been giving you for that itch you always complain about.

NOW ORDER, ORDER I DECLARE.

The room quieted down and Arthur began to smile. This is a great day. This is a great idea for a new era. My swarthy knights, today I shall declare a new Quest. We shall call this day ‘The Quest for Taxes Feast Day’. From this time forward, on this date, our great knights (along with a couple thousand peasants of course) shall go out into the countryside and enter all the shires and approach all of the church properties demanding their tithes for the month. One month out of every year shall the monies received by the clerics be tendered to the King. All plenary indulgences shall be collected to forestall a purgatory on earth.

But sire, what about the Pope? He may become angry and discombobulate us. Thus cried Bedivere.

You mean excommunicate us, Bedivere? Said Tristan, with a scowl.

That too, said Bedivere.

The Pope will not find out until next month as to our goings on. Besides, the Winemakers Guild and the Bakers Guild have been protesting at the Vatican ever since they found out that the Pope has been watering down the communion breakfasts and substituting silly wafers for pieces of a wheat loaf. He has his own problems and listen to this carefully. Ever since he killed all of his Jews, the Church's return on investment has been way, way down. See, we must watch our prejudices lest our pocketbooks be squandered. Besides, you ever see the Pope in battle? All those vestments really screw up his ability to ride a horse and the priest soldiers have been wearing those dresses again. No sense of horsemanship. I swear.

All of a sudden all the knights knelt and blessed themselves.

Er, I swear that we shall not fail in our quest to better our kingdom. Proclaimed the King.

Tristan and Lancelot, you shall lead half of the palace guards unto the country side and bring bags with you. Large bags. And fill them with plenary indulgences from the friaries and the monasteries and the cathedrals but leave London alone for now, I am meeting with the Archbishop on the morrow.

Sir Dobbs...SIR DOBBS

Yes, sire.

Why are you not capitalizing your s's, Dobbs?

Yes Sire!!!

Sir Dobbs there are problems with our boundaries to the south. Some people called Angles are creating havoc in the Southern Provinces. These beasts have terrible teeth and they talk funny and I wish you to pursue all the Angles. Understand soldier?

Yes Sire. And who should I take with me?

One quarter of the palace guards for now Dobbs. But make it fast because I will need you to lead some subcontractors up to Hadrian's wall to buttress our boundaries with the Picts.

But Sire. What is a contractor?

Never mind. Pursue all the Angles.

Snerf, Snerf where is Snerf, yelled the King.

The hunchback hobbled over to the 'head chair' of the table, grumbling as usual. He had once been a happy peasant, short, but happy with a wee little lass. He oftimes thought of his maid Mariannette. Hours in the hayloft until her father found out about it and had him whipped unmercilously Shortly he discovered that he had been left crippled for life. How was he to know she was only twelve (thirteen was the advent of maidenhood in those days of yore. To this day that sentiment can be found in places like Jerry Lee Lewis' home town) and she said she was fourteen and much more adept at things of the heart-so to speak-than any virgin.

Snerf was not his birth name. He had been Christened Stephan of Dover. His old master had a speech impediment and thus he was left with nothing, not even his name. He was taken prisoner five years prior and brought to Camelot when it was discovered that he had a talent with vegetables and he became first lay assistant to Kay the Senescel.

WAKE THE HELL UP SNERF AND HURRY OVER HERE

Oh, oh, he thought. He is mad again. What can I do you for King of mine?

The King was holding a deer leg and made a menacing movement towards him. This venison tastes like a Saxon peon who has rotted in the peat bogs for months. What the hell is this?
Take this back to Kay and tell him to get me some mutton.

So the first cabinet meeting of the New Realm, ends.

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA

2009-09-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

The Thustras were your normal inner burb people. That mysterious group of post war America whose biggest aim in life was to own their own home far away from the city (well six or seven miles was pretty far) and far away from Negroes and Jewish folk.

The homes were built, almost over night with the help of mortgages approved by the feds and monies from the various GI bills and the deeds were duly encrypted with restrictive covenants and everybody lived happily ever after.

Well not really of course, but that is another story which may be partially covered in this great epic.

Anyway, back to the Thustras. Elmer, the patriarch, came from good European parentage. His paternal grandparents arrived at Ellis Island from a small town SE of Holmberg or somewhere in the old Yugoslavia or some such place. Gerry really was not sure except Grandpa always liked a beer and a bump and every time Gramps would slug down the bump he would yell: YAVEAST

Grandma was quite demure and never said much in front of strangers. Little Gerry only met her a couple of times as a youngster but he was sure she knew something about Tarot Cards and carried these bones in a box at all times.

Elmer’s father was a carriage driver where he drove his customers with the help of two old mares, through the local park near the BIG CITY. Elmer’s mom was a short fat lady who always yelled at Gerry for something.

OH HOW GERRY DETESTED THE HOLIDAYS. Such strange creatures would arrive at dinner sometimes and he was told that he was somehow RELATED TO MOST OF THEM.

Gerry’s mom was Calustra. Yes, that is right, Calustra Thustra. But since Gerry only had to call her mom it was okay with him. Her parents had more of a divergence in origin.

Calustra’s mom came from some small enclave near Milan, Italy. How grandma got here, Gerry had not the slightest idea. But Nana, as she liked to be called, was always kind to Gerry. When no one was around, Nana would tell Gerry:

You can be whatever you want to be Gerald, but do not be a cinema man.

You see, Gerry came to discover that Nana did not really appreciate Dad. But that is another story.

Elmer got back to the States following his stint in the Army as a cook during WWII. He had been stationed in England most of the time. It seems that he somehow got into the ‘procurement’ business over there, which is where he procured the down payment for his home in suburbia.

Elmer went to college on the GI bill and received three and a half years of good education, majoring in films. By 1959, when Gerry reached his ninth birthday, Elmer owned the Exotic Cinema on the outskirts of the city. (This was one reason that Nana did not care much for Elmer)

Oh and Nazareth was the name of the burb.

Well Gerry got through the sixth grade at Nathan Hale Elementary School and he had had enough.

So when ‘sign up’ day happened at Nazareth’s West Junior High School, Gerry ‘opted out’. He just never showed up. Papers were lost. The Thustras were never much up for PTA and such. I mean Elmer was just scraping along at the cinema. Oh sure, Elmer would always have his camera available for those important shots of certain City Fathers showing up for popcorn at his theater, but the ‘tips’ he received from this side photography business were enough just to bring home extra groceries to feed the 9 youngins. Mom was so busy washing clothes and keeping Kevin from killing David, that….well no one really followed up on Gerry.

Gerry would wile away the hours wandering through the public library and catching any new happenings at the world’s only in-door mall, Southside Dale it was called. Built in 1957, it really represented all that was new about post war America. Clothes shops all over the place. Book stores and knick-knack shops adorned the sides of this great edifice. Food was for sale everywhere. Pieces of pizza, hoagie sandwiches, hot dogs……..whatever one craved that day, at that moment.

Gerry always remembered to leave home at 8:00 AM and to get back home by four PM.

…………………………………………

July 5th, 2001 at Southside Dale Shopping Center, Nazareth, Minnesota.

The greatest single shopping center on the globe had suffered from entropy some forty years after its creation. It was now divided into three parts. The Middle Dale was a Wal-Mart. The West Wing was a Sam’s Club. The East Wing was more or less vacant with the exception of a strange meeting that took place once a day at one PM. Thursday through Tuesday that is.

Hundreds would flock at the East Wing just after noon and camp on rugs provided by Sam’s Club in order to hear the thoughts of the day from Gerry Thustra.

At exactly One P.M. Gerry appeared to the throng, made up of ladies sick of shopping, youngsters sick of school and Postal Workers who happened to work strange shifts. At least I hope they had strange shifts; I mean otherwise who was delivering the GODDAMN MAIL. (Blesses himself)

GOD IS DEAD pronounced the Shoppers’ Shaman (as he was referred to in the local press). Gerry’s voice boooooooooooomed in this mostly empty warehouse. Made one wonder why the microphone was ever invented in the first place.

God is dead and so are all of our aspirations, consolations, trepidations, acclamations, and constipations.
We need god no longer. Just as we need to heed the government any longer. Give nothing unto Caesar because there is no Caesar. Give nothing unto god, because there is no god.

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA.

Well, the throng was puzzled as it always was this time of day. What does this mean? Do we not pay taxes anymore? Do we not come to the East Wing any longer?

Gerry always began like this. Shaking everyone in their boots. After lunch for many the blood has rushed from the cranium to the belly leaving those who have supped with ennui. Adrenaline was what was called for in this instance.

We are alone. All of us. If you, over there, the lady in the plastic coat that shines in the darkness of my soul, were to see me grasp my chest and fall to the ground of a fatal heart attack…you could do nothing. Oh a paramedic might attempt to revive me while another good citizen called 911…But those are mortal duties that must be accomplished or you would be seen as not doing your social obligations.

No we are alone in that none of us in the end can prevent our own death or the death of others on our planet. We leave our mother’s womb and we are alone for the full tour, as it were. It is enough that we do not kill someone else while on this ‘tour of duty’.

I will now relate to you the parable of the one-legged cabby.

Thomas was from somewhere in the Middle East. We are not sure if that was his ‘given’ name or not. It was late at night and just toward the end of his shift, but Thomas had not had his complement of fares that day. Coming around the Police Station a few miles from the airport where he had hoped to find a ride less traveler, he espied a large figure in a deep dark trench coat haling him for a ride. Well, it looks good enough for me Thomas thought.

Thomas duly stopped and signaled that the fellow could jump in his cab. Will you take me to Northco?

That depends upon what Northco is and where it is sir. I have had this route for all of three years and I have a good mind and remember my fares and destinations. It is what I do. But what is Northco.

Check your GPS idiot.

Blushing, Thomas typed in the letters on his keyboard and there, at the edge of town and just within his route was NORTHCO.

Sorry about that sir. Yes, we shall take the shortest route for the traffic is thin this time of night.

It was a full twenty miles away and Thomas duly called it in knowing that the fare would make his shift profitable. Everything was kosher.

But as they proceeded down highway 62, something strange occurred to Thomas. He was sure that he had just crossed Hwy 494 going WEST on 62. There was no Highway 62 West of 494. That was the end of 62…or it was supposed to be. He checked his computer. Yes indeed he was on the right road. The screen indicated that his cab was going in the right direction on the right road to the right destination. When the hell did this all change?

Then he remembered that he had never heard of NORTHCO before. He certainly had never traveled there before. And to make matters worse, it was particularly dark that night. A deep cover of clouds hid the stars along with the slim crescent moon that was predicted for the night. And it was misty, the kind of mist that is almost a downpour. Where the windshield wipers must be on continuously and where it became necessary to open a window when making a turn.

It was like he had never been in this city before. 36 months as a cab driver can do

Although he usually refrained from speaking to fares unless first addressed, Thomas cleared his throat and asked innocently:

What exactly does NORTHCO do sir, if I may be so bold as to ask?

There was no response from the fare. Thomas stole a quick glance into his rear-view mirror at the fare. He shook his head. He could not see the fare’s face. Only the outline of a huge man in the back seat of his cab.

Well, the road is right, the destination is right…the computer says so.

Three years and Thomas never felt like this. He certainly was confused but the instruments told him to not be so. He could discern the divider in the highway; he was on the right side. He could certainly discern the glowing white stripes separating the Western bound traffic.

And speaking of traffic, this Sunday Night had none. Not none, to speak of. There was no traffic at all.

Thomas felt the perspiration on his pate and his underarms were reeking. He never smelt this bad, even at ‘closing time’. He could feel his breath weaken. It is like those times when you have to consciously breath; afraid that if you quit thinking about your breath, you would die.

He checked the clock and it read 12:30 AM. It was Monday. And at this speed……….

STEP ON IT GODDAMN IT. Yelled the passenger. The first words out of his mouth since he gave the driver the destination.

Does any of this look familiar to you sir? I mean have you ever been to NORTHCO before?

STEP ON IT I SAY!!!

Thomas put his foot down on the accelerator taking his transport to 70 MPH. He almost hoped a cop would stop him. He began to care little about his license, his driving record or even the damn cab…all of which embodied his livelihood. Then to 75 MPH.

He could see the stripes on the road moving faster and faster. It was now 12:45 A.M. Nothing looked familiar. How could he have never been on this road before this? I mean his main drag was the airport for chrissakes which meant any destination was possible.

Now Thomas could hear his own heart. He could not remember ever HEARING his heart before. He glanced down at the clock, it read 2:30 A.M.

This is not possible. WHERE THE HELL AM I.

Of a sudden, Thomas looked up and there was a sign on the road:

WELCOME TO SOUTH DAKOTA.

Take the next right onto Highway 82. We are almost there. This was the declaration from the mute fare.

Thomas proceeded to make the right turn and proceeded north and within two miles he saw the sign:

THIS WAY TO NORTHCO.

As he pulled into the long driveway in front of the building, the fear left him. It felt like he had had a long sleep and a good shower. It never occurred to him that he would be driving three hours to get home. Thomas did not care.

The fare asked:

How much?

The voice shook him for some reason. Er….two hundred dollars.

The fare reached into his pocket and pulled out four bills, handing them to Thomas.

KEEP THE CHANGE.

Everything kind of went blank for Thomas just after receiving the funds.

He awoke, suddenly in his cab, parked in the company garage. He looked down at the clock and it read 8:00 A.M. He looked up. It had been his router who had awoken him by tapping at his driver side window. Thomas looked down at the four bills still in his hands.

THUS SPAKE GERRY THUSTRA.

Stay tuned for part two. What is the message?

NOTHINGNESS

2009-09-26T22:36:00.000-07:00

Philosophy is a waste of time. I am lost in high school and I get to the U and I am stuck in a long line to register for courses and I end up in Philosophy I; Anthropology I and World History I.

I remember the History Professor, within the first minute of his introduction asking the 250 or so students:

"Who, here, had a coach as their world history teacher in high school?"

Everybody raised their hand. Unless both their hands were involved in activities that come easily to young men.

"OK. Lets start anew. The eighteenth century represents the 1700's. The nineteenth century represents the 1800's."

Everybody laughed, but I knew I had a chance.

I remember Philosophy I because I began reading Plato. The Apology, made me cry. I was hopelessly lost. The sophists were the bad guys and Socrates (I pronounced in my head with a silent 'e' until the professor straightened me out. I had always thought it was Hercules like Hercules Perot.)

I bring this up because I ended up in law school and the origins of law school end up in the school of the Sophists. And yet, you are supposedly taught by the Socratic Method.

It is kind of like the Republicans telling you that the Democrats are elitists. I do not know how better to describe it.

I remember thinking that in the Apology, there was never an apology. The bad guys were the sophists and they killed my friend. A friend who had been dead for 23 1/2 centuries before I was born.

There were 'schools' in the ancient world. Different perspectives.

There were the atomists who believed that everything could be boiled down to small particles, atoms.

There were those who believed that the entire perspective of the human poplulation was nothing but a dream.

Now there are many, many 'schools' in ancient Greek thought. So do not chastise me for ignorance. Besides, I am good at ignorance.

What can philosophy teach us? Well Socrats (as I perceived him and pronounced him), opens the Apology with the words:

"There are things beneath the earth and above the heavens that will never be understood in your philosophy."

Kind of like arguing with Fundamentalists who think that the world is 6 or eight thousand years old. Who actually have Fred Flinstone museums where you can see Fred mining with a dinosour as his digger.

My basic question of the day is: What is nothing? or What is nothingness?

Hold your two hands about a foot apart. What do you see?

There is nothing between my two hands.

But, when I do this, I know that is not a true statement.

There is air between your two hands. There is nitrogen, and oxygen, and a hundred different molecules depending upon where you are that exist between those two hands.

And there are biological entities between your hands. There are hundreds of different forms of bacteria and viruses. Living beings that you cannot see.

There are things like asbestos and dead skin and smoke and other things that are not 'alive' between your two hands.

Now we come to a Greek concept of the vacuum.

I f you take away from or ignore the water and nitrogen and oxygen, and asbestos and bacteria and viruses and everything else. Can you really say there is nothing between your two hands?

No, because there is space between your two hands and, evidently, if we are to believe scientists, space is something.

First, outer space is not a concept anymore. We can see it.

National Geographic, in its November issue, showed PICTURES of planets orbiting another sun 160 light years away from us.

These pictures were not 'artists conceptions' they showed three PLANETS orbiting another sun. And by telescopic time lapsed photography they actually show a picture of the arc of one of the planets.

I never thought I would ever see this in my lifetime. I was amazed.

This was not mathematical wizardry or deductions from watching the 'wobbling' effect of faraway suns. The procedure used for ten years to demonstrate that other solar systems exist in our own galaxy was categorized as the 'wobbling effect.' These are pictures and not pictures of 'dust', but of planets.

These scientists, astrophysicists, tell us that space is not Kalvin zero. It is a 'temperature of 3 degrees above', Kalvin. This is different from Celsius . The Kalvin 'thermometer' registers lack of heat to the point where there is no atomic movement at all.

But, no matter where you go throughout the universe, you will find some heat.

And of course, there is light, photons, or we could not see anything between us and what we are recording.

And there is gravity, whatever the hell that is, between us and the sun and the other suns we are looking at.

Space is not nothingness.

And space is expanding. The galaxies are moving apart except those like our closest neighbor that is coming toward us, or we are going toward it, or both.

Galaxies are moving apart and space is expanding.

THE ONLY ISSUE TO ME INVOLVES NOTHINGNESS.

What the hell is space expanding INTO.

Is it expanding into nothingness?

The Greeks asked simple questions. Dictionaries cannot answer some of these questions. Most of the elemental questions cannot be answered. Even today.

No one can answer the question: What the hell is nothingness?

(Note, this was the first blog where I received recommendations and comments at TPMCafe. December 7, 2008. I left it as it was. Typos and all. you can read comments at http://tpmcafe.talkingpointsmemo.com/talk/blogs/dikkday48yahoocom/2008/12/07-week/

A CONTRAST AMONG DOOLITTLES

2009-09-26T13:05:00.000-07:00

Alfie Doolittle

Once upon a time there was there was a Mormon attorney who wished to make a difference, strive for change and make America a better place for rich white people to live and thrive. In 1990, John T. Doolittle was elected to the House of Representatives from a district in California where gated communities and rich exurbs are the rule of the day.

And John T. Doolittle was able to do that House seat proud until January of this year; I mean what a voting record: http://www.ontheissues.org/ca/john_doolittle.htm

Any time he could make life a little bit easier for those attempting to scrape by in gated communities, Doolittle was there doing a lot. Any time he was called upon to vote down breaks for the poor so that they could just sit around on food stamps and drink beer all day, Doolittle was there for the count.

You would never him quote Alfie Doolittle his dear departed cousin:

I'm one of the undeserving poor, I am, up against middle-class morality all the time. What is middle-class morality? Just an excuse for never giving me anything.

And this was what Doolittle was all about, and let me tell you this man DIDALOT, not a little to further Truth, Justice & The American Way:

* "Conservative Rep. John T. Doolittle (R-Calif.), for example, said he hoped a Bush administration would beat back efforts at campaign finance reform and gun control while dramatically cutting federal regulation. 'The power of the presidency, coupled with a Republican Congress and conservative control of the Supreme Court, is nothing short of awesome,' said Doolittle, one of DeLay's closest allies. 'This is the implementation of the rest of the 'Contract With America.'" --Washington Post, December 6, 2000.
* "A DeLay ally, Rep. John T. Doolittle (R-Calif.), said Republicans 'are going to have to respond in kind' by filing ethics charges against key Democrats. From now on, he said in an interview, it's a matter of 'you kill my dog, I'll kill your cat.'" --Washington Post, June 15, 2004.
* "'I do not subscribe to the theory of global warming,' he said. 'Liberals like to use pseudo-science.' He said that liberals want to implement severe restrictions and their actions 'would make everything more expensive.'" [Chester Progressive, Wednesday, Aug 16, 2006, pg 16A. (Doolittle interview with newspaper, Chester,CA)]
* "The legislation introduced by Congressman John T. Doolittle (R-Calif.) provides for deregulating campaign finance, eliminating both contribution and expenditure limitations. It also provides for ending federal financing of presidential campaigns. Its emphasis is on improved disclosure of campaign finance information primarily through electronic filing. To amend the Federal Election Campaign Act of 1971 to reform the financing of campaigns for election for Federal office."

All Representatives find special projects to work on during their tenure in the People's House; or at least the good ones, and Doolittle was one of those good ones for sure. Back in 2006 it was reported that:

Most Americans couldn't locate the Northern Marianas Islands on a map if their lives depended on it-- nor could they tell you anything about the island chain. However, in the northern California district between the Sacramento suburbs and the Oregon border, more and more people are knowing an uncomfortably lot about the Northern Marianas. That's because the Republican incumbent in CA-04, John Doolittle, an incredibly corrupt and thoroughly immoral bribetaker has been all caught up in a whole slew of Abramoff-related scandals, one particularly horrible one centered in the Commonwealth-- a nice way to say "colony"-- of the Northern Mariana Islands. And the swirling controversy around the scandal is being covered by the Sacramento Bee, the district's most read newspaper.

Now that the FBI is actively investigating Doolittle's role in the pervasive Culture of Corruption in DC, his activities in the Northern Marianas scandals are coming out. Last week, the Bee reported that the forced prostitution, slave labor, forced abortions and generally nightmarish conditions put together by villains like Tom DeLay, Bob Ney, Don Young and John Doolittle as a model working situation for a Republican Party-dominated society has become a campaign issue in CA-04.

A month before Rep. John Doolittle took actions that would help disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff win back a contract to represent the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands in blocking immigration and labor reforms, he heard sworn witnesses describing some of the sordid abuses the legislation was intended to halt. At the Sept. 16, 1999, hearing before the House Resources Committee, witnesses told of deplorable working conditions, trafficking in women and forced prostitution.

Now, seven years later, Doolittle's opposition to the reforms in the U.S. territory has become a dominant issue in his campaign for a ninth term in Congress. http://downwithtyranny.blogspot.com/2006/10/another-chapter-in-john-doolittles.html

Getting young girls employment was one of the greatest accomplishments of Doolittle during his tenure and it had nothing to do with food stamps or welfare. I mean these girls had to follow the rules in order to better their lot.

But those dirty liberals have taken it upon themselves to attack this sort of conduct and they found out how to get this epitome of conservative values by going after an underling:

"Doolittle's former chief of staff, Kevin A. Ring, went to work with Abramoff. Doolittle's wife, Julie, owned a consulting firm that was hired by Abramoff and his firm, Greenberg Traurig, to do fundraising for a charity he founded. Two sources close to the investigation said that Ring, while working for Abramoff, was an intermediary in the hiring of Julie Doolittle's firm, Sierra Dominion Financial Solutions Inc., which last year received a subpoena from the grand jury investigating Abramoff," Susan Schmidt and James Grimaldi, reported in the November 26, 2005, Washington Post. http://www.sourcewatch.org/index.php?title=John_Doolittle/Commentary

Ring is in the midst of his trial right now, facing 127 years in prison (something Madoff would have hoped for) on seven felony counts. The trial has worn on some participants:

Crying witnesses, colorful e-mails and descriptions of lobbyists as "sugar daddies" and congressmen as their "champions" -- it's all become routine in the trial of Kevin Ring, former associate of imprisoned ex-lobbyist Jack Abramoff. With a full cast of former lobbyists and congressional staffers who have already pleaded guilty in the scandal testifying as cooperating witnesses, courtroom drama has yet to cease, and it's only bound to continue as the defense is expected to begin presenting evidence next week.
Read more: http://undertheinfluence.nationaljournal.com/2009/09/ri. http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=103x483520

Former DOJ Chief of Staff David Ayres invoked his Fifth Amendment rights, according to this report.David Ayers, who was Ashcroft's chief of staff at the Justice Department during the Bush administration, refused to answer questions under oath about tickets he received from Abramoff's firm and any favors he may have granted for the firm's clients.

Ayers was called as a defense witness in the corruption trial of Abramoff deputy Kevin Ring. Ring faces charges that he illegally influenced federal officials by providing them with expensive meals, drinks and tickets to concerts and sporting events http://politicalactivitylaw.com/?p=5283

In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth...(Luke 13:28)

So, in the midst of Ring's trial, Doolittle has been indicted. Or has he?

Federal prosecutors named ex-Rep. John Doolittle (R-Calif.) as a co-conspirator Thursday in the public corruption case against former House aide-turned-lobbyist Kevin Ring. The government included Doolittle, who has not been charged with wrongdoing, on a list of 11 co-conspirators filed Thursday.

The government's list of co-conspirators also included Doolittle's wife, Julie Doolittle, as well as John Albaugh, chief of staff to then-Rep. Ernest Istook (R-Okla.) who pleaded guilty in 2008 to conspiracy to commit honest services fraud; Ann Copland, a former aide to Sen. Thad Cochran (R-Miss.) who pleaded guilty in March to honest services wire fraud; Robert Coughlin, a former top Justice Department official who pleaded guilty in 2008 to violating conflict of interest laws; Will Heaton, chief of staff to then-Rep. Bob Ney (R-Ohio) who pleaded guilty in February 2007 to a conspiracy charge; Laura Blackann, Doolittle's former spokeswoman and wife of Trevor Blackann who pleaded guilty in November to filing a false tax return for not reporting more than $4,100 in gifts from lobbyists; Peter Evich, Doolittle's former legislative director; Gregory Orlando, who also served as Doolittle's legislative director; former White House aide Jennifer Farley; David Lopez, Doolittle's former chief of staff and political adviser; and Ryan Thomas, a top appropriations aide to then-Sen. Conrad Burns (R-Mont.). http://www.rollcall.com/news/38936-1.html?type=pf

Well he made it on the list of co-conspirators, But he still walks free as a bird.

Doolittle has little in common with his cousin Alfie Doolittle. I mean you will never hear Representative Doolittle say for instance:

I'm wanting to tell you, I'm willing to tell ya, I'm waiting to tell ya.

John T. Doolittle rather makes his cousin Alfie seem like a pillar of the community, does he not?

Arthur of the Roundish Table: Chapter One

2009-09-25T21:38:00.000-07:00

ARTHUR OF THE ROUNDISH TABLE

CHAPTER 1

DUX BELLORUM

It had been a long campaign. Twelve great battles fought on battlegrounds to be memorialized in poetry and prose for centuries to come.

The first at Glein, four battles alone at the River Dubglais, In the place called Linnius, the battle at Bassas River, the next at Cat Coit Celidon, then on to Guinnion.

Finally THE GREAT BATTLE AT BADON where the Saxon pagans were finally defeated.

At Mount Baden Arthur meets with his primary lieutenants.

Sire, this may be the last of them, said Sir Kay.

All say yea to that, Bedivere responded.

Blood, sweat, tears and shite. All shed for Peace in Our Time. The King pronounced.

Sire, pray tell what is 'shite'? Inquired Bedivere.

Oh it is a term I learned from the Saxon over there. I smit him with my sword and just prior to disemboweling him, he yelled shite at me along with a litany of short words. I am pretty sure that shite has something to do with horses.

At any rate, the King continued, we have lost close to four thousand horsemen and many thousands of peasants over the last three years, but we have succeeded where my father has not.

Mission accomplished, I say, mission accomplished.

Now let us kneel down in prayer and thank our Lord Jesus Christ for our victory today. A victory that shall be remembered by our tribes for generations to come.

All the great lieutenants knelt. There was Bedivere and Kay who had been with him from the time of the stone. And Lancelot and Tristan, the greatest of his warriors. There was his cousin Gawain along with his brother Gareth. Merlin would appear and disappear. Come and go. But he had helped in the planning.

At last the forces of good had prevailed.

Arthur had disbanded most of his forces but decided to keep a significant guard, prepared to defend his people. And now, back at Camelot he calls for a meeting of the Round Table.

I know, how can you ‘head’ a roundish table. I mean there really is no place at the table that stands out. Merlin helped with this by establishing the King’s Chair. A chair with a huge back with the great seal of the King, chiseled into the wooden frame. The Seal portrays a Red Dragon defeating a white dragon. Arthur demurred at first and complained that the teeth of the Red dragon were cutting into his back. Merlin, a satirist at times, underlined that the King must always be watching his back but he had the chief tailor prepare a cushioned cape that removed the King's back from any discomfort.

Arthur stood to address his fiefs:

As you know, we are now a land at peace. A peace that we have not seen for decades. I commend the dukes, the earls and the kings (with small k's, remember, always small k's from now on) who joined forces for a cause and a new solidarity under my reign.

And....

(Lancelot waltzes in, with a zing to his step)

Lancelot, you are always late. And yet you always have that spring in your step. What is it that you always find time to do just before our important meetings?

I...I...Sire, I always make sure that my clothes are always hung correctly and Galant the tailor is a bit, er Picky.

Well, maybe next time he will remind you to pull up your zipper.

Take your seat.

Tristan your uncle is noticeably absent from these proceedings, and why is that so?

Sire, my uncle is preparing for his wedding and sent me as emissary to your table, responded the Irisman.

But isn't king Mark marrying Iseult? I thought I saw her in the inner sanctum today?

Uh, uh...Sire I escort her wherever she goes for safety sake and I think Mighty Arthur, you recall that it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Tristan cleared his throat.

You know Tristan, Lancelot told me the same thing two years ago during my wedding preparations and I did not see either the bride or Lancelot for months at a time. And when I did, they were always smiling like you are right now. I am going to have a talk with the Archbishop of Canterbury about this tomorrow. I do not think I like old customs like this one. They are pagan and make a lot of us uneasy and suspicious.

Today we must address the problems associated with peace.

TEN CONSIDERATIONS FOR YOUR RETIREMENT

2009-09-25T05:36:00.000-07:00

I came across a real gem in the web-o-sphere concerning retirement. The Ten Biggest Retirement Mistakes.

I found it at a site called Wallet Pop. It has made a permanent impression on me and I have completely changed my ideas as far as retirement. http://www.walletpop.com/retirement/biggest-retirement-mistakes

Overconfidence in Your Investing Skill

This is an important point. I mean if you have trouble getting out of your high chair in the morning, it might be a good thing to speak to those who are 'in the know'. We must admit that there are things above the heavens and beneath the earth that we might not be able to fathom in our philosophy. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3peAlsLRSU&feature=related

I mean you can watch Jim Cramer on CNBC. He would have been a lot of help prior to the meltdown. http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/thu-march-12-2009/jim-cramer-extended-interview-pt--1

Of course during and after the meltdown; not so good.

You could pretend to read and understand the WSJ I suppose and review a number of business sites and then put together important spread sheets. But you might do better just putting a list of stocks from the WSJ on your wall and throwing darts at it. Hell even a monkey can do that. http://seekingalpha.com/article/110147-bobo-the-dart-throwing-monkey-s-five-hot-etfs

Or you could go see a professional, somebody who knows what they are doing. You could have gone to Bear Sterns to get your stock tips. If you did by the way, get a good book on coupon clipping along with my new book entitled: How To Survive With Your Thermostat Set at 45 in the Winter.

The problem is this. If, after a long and careful search you find the best stock advisor and he gives you the heads up on some pending catastrophe that could hurt your portfolio; you could end up in jail for receiving inside information. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martha_Stewart

Ben Stein is just a master at financial counseling:

Yes, You Can Be a Successful Income Investor: Reaching for Yield in Today's Market ISBN 1-4019-0319-3 Yes, You Can Still Retire Comfortably: The Baby-Boom Retirement Crisis and how to Beat It ISBN 1-4019-0318-5 2006 Just one heck of a guy that Ben Stein. Here is what he had to say in August 2007:

On August 18, 2007, on Fox News Channel's Cavuto on Business, Stein appeared with other financial experts dismissing worries of a coming credit crunch[23]. The lone dissenter was Peter Schiff, who predicted that the mortgage sector would create a crisis leading to massive recession, a view that produced laughter from the other experts. Stein strongly recommended investing in then-troubled financial institutions[23].
Ben Stein: The credit crunch is way overblown. The [financial institutions] are being given away; they're so unbelievably cheap...The subprime problem is a problem, but it's a tiny problem in the context of this economy...It's a buying opportunity, especially for the financials, maybe like I've never seen before in my entire life.
Peter Schiff: This is just getting started. It's not just subprimes. This is a problem for the entire mortgage industry. It's not just people with bad credit that committed to mortgages they couldn't afford. It's not just people with bad credit who are going to see their home equity vanish... This is going to be an enormous credit crunch...Neil Cavuto: You must be a laugh-riot at parties.
Ben Stein: ...subprime is tiny. Subprime is a tiny, tiny blip.
Peter Schiff: It's not tiny. And again, it's not just subprime. It's the entire mortgage market.
Ben Stein: You're simply wrong about that... Defaults for the whole mortgage market are tiny.
Ben Stein: I think stocks will be a heck of a lot higher a year from now than they are now.

Well at least old Ben is a laugh-riot at parties even if he lacks even a modicum of prescience..

If you break down Mr. Steins' advice as far as retirement it kind of goes like this:

Get eight million dollars. That should be enough. Now take a couple million and hide it. Hide it off shore. Hide it in a jar. Hide it in your car. Does not matter. It will be there when every thing else goes south.

Then make sure that the investment of your hard earned six million dollars beats the cost of living raises over the year of investment though.

Oh. And if everything else goes south, get a job selling fraudulent products. http://rawstory.com/blog/2009/08/ben-stein-fired-by-new-york-times/

I mean you might pick up more than a couple of good bucks from selling drugs, but why do that when you can take the opportunity to help some crooks steal millions of dollars from millions of people?

Using a Market-Beating Broker

I am not sure what the author is referring to but I really do not care and I think I covered this anyway.

Fleeing to Safety

Well what more can I say about this. Always have your visa updated and ready and when things really go south and the SEC is about to show up or even some sharp narcs, get on a plane to the Caribbean and get the hell out of here.

Believing All Bonds Are Safe.

Who cares?

Being Tempted by ETF's

Do not be overly tempted by ETF's. That is what I always say.

Ignoring Immediate Annuities

I always put my faith in the Putting Off Annuities. I mean if the markets fail, you gotta give the annuity enough time to get their government bailouts and start stealing some good money again.

Retiring Too Early

Do not retire too early. If you are 25 and have Ben Stein's eight million dollars in the bank, go ahead and retire.

If you are 75 and are not sure if you can afford your hemorrhoid medicine this month; DO NOT RETIRE.

Not Having a Current Will

I mean you are dead. Why should you care about your investments?

Remarrying Without a Prenup

An. A little advice here. Give her flowers and go out to eat once a week. BUT JESUS H. CHRIST, DO NOT MARRY HER. GEEEEEEEEEEEZ!!!!!!!!! And if that does not work you can always tell her that you are a Roman Catholic and the Church does not recognize the divorce proceedings that occurred in the early 1980's.

Taking Social Security Too Soon

That is right. If you are in my age group, do not take Social Security at age 62. Just sleep in the park for three short years, pick up some food stamps and.....never, never, never, get sick. One day you will wake up and you will be 65 and you can have all your Social Security Benefits.

Of course if you choose to die at age 67, you kinda lost out on some real pocket change.

http://www.walletpop.com/retirement/biggest-retirement-mistakes

MASTERS OF WAR

2008-11-30T11:04:00.000-08:00

I just waded through a seven page expose' in Sunday's NYT because God does not want me to sleep too much tonite. When I finish with this essay I am going to take a long shower, because the filth described in this article makes a Roast to Flavor Flave seem like a Disney cartoon.

We honor the Generals and Admirals of our Army, Navy, Marines and Air Force for many reasons.

The Armed Forces represent a meritocracy. People earn their way to the top. There are exceptions. But as a system, show me a better one.

Because of Harry Truman, the Armed Forces were and are a model for desegregation. There is a lot of work to be accomplished with women in the military, and with homosexuals, but show me a better working model in this regard.

Many of those generals, fought on the field of battle and risked their lives. Some, many times. Some carry scars both physical and mental in nature.

For these reasons and many others, we must refrain from attacking them. Refrain from imputing less than honorable motives to their actions. Attempt to take them at their word.

This is for them, this is for the country.

To this day I have continued to cut Secretary Powell some slack with regard to being a member of what I consider one of the dirtiest, most criminal Administrations this country has ever seen.

But I think he was lied to by Administration. That his voice was muted by the Administration. And I think he walked away from the Administration extremely demoralized, embarrassed and shamed.

Again, it is difficult to ascribed dishonorable motives to General Powell and there is no evidence to do otherwise.

This is not the case for certain generals who have appeared on cable news over the last six or seven years. They come on as color commentators, as experts and as translaters of a sort. Translating military language into standard English to give the viewers some idea of what is 'going on on the ground.'

They answer questions like:

What do our men and women need on the ground?

How is the battle, surge, strategy working?

Is it a good idea for our troops to be in a certain location?

How long is this battle, action, surge going to last?

Sometime ago, it was disclosed that some of the generals that served in these capacities on cable news-and on CBS, NBC &ABC-had some "affiliations" with corporate entities that should have been disclosed to the public.

As with attorneys and politicians, retired generals are supposed to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.

I really did not pay much attention to this issue at the time. Retired generals have always double dipped. They get their pensions, most of them served for 30 years or more. They sit as mostly honorary members of a board of directors for some corporation. Who cares? Good for them.

But the New York Times article gives a different picture and it paints this picture with some real follow-up, research and documentation that this newspaper is famous for and it does so in more than 8 or 10 paragraphs. And it should make any good American nauseous.

General Macaffrey, for instance appears on news shows all the time.

" General McCaffrey made his debut as a military analyst in the weeks after 9/11. NBC anchors typically introduced him by describing his medals or his exploits in the gulf war. Or they noted he was a West Point professor, or the youngest four-star general in the history of the Army."

You see, as a viewer you are trying to get the facts and what better way to get the facts than from a decorated war hero....How could MSNBC or NBC do any better than this?

The first example of fraud in article describes a propaganda campaign by the Bush Administration that used many generals, including this one, to act as shills--addressing the public as if they were seasoned and neutral observers:

"With a few exceptions General McCaffrey has consistently supported Mr. Bush’s major national security policies, especially the war in Iraq. He advocated invasion, urged building up the military to sustain the occupation and warned that premature withdrawal would invite catastrophe.

In an article earlier this year, The New York Times identified General McCaffrey as one of some 75 military analysts who were the focus of a Pentagon public relations campaign that is now being examined by the Pentagon’s inspector general, the Government Accountability Office and the Federal Communications Commission. The campaign, begun in 2002 but suspended after the article’s publication, sought to transform the analysts into “surrogates” and “message force multipliers” for the Bush administration, records show. The analysts, many with military industry ties, were wooed in private briefings, showered with talking points and escorted on tours of Iraq and Guantánamo Bay, Cuba."

So, if you watched this gentleman giving 'color' to your favorite newscast, you probably did not know this. You did not know that he was working for the Bush Administration the entire time. But there is a second fraud going on here that is worse than not exposing his relation to the Administration and his marching orders as far as the limits on his opinions. Some of these 'analysts' were and are making ungodly amounts of money from defense contractors. Not five grand a month as an honorarium. But potentially millions:

"The Pentagon inspector general is investigating whether special access gave any of these analysts an improper edge in the competition for contracts.

General McCaffrey offers a case study of the benefits that can flow from favored access: an inside track to sensitive information about strategy and tactics; insight into the priorities of ground commanders; a private channel to officials who oversaw war spending, as the Defense Solutions example shows. In that case the company has yet to win the contract it hired General McCaffrey to champion.

More broadly, though, his example reveals the myriad and often undisclosed connections between the business of war and the business of covering it."

Special access is a term of art that is best explained by looking at Cheney and his history with Halliburton.

Cheney gave some pretty good contracts to Halliburton when he was defense secretary. Within two years after his President was no longer in office, Cheney took over as CEO of Halliburton. Not some honorary board position, mind you--but Chief Executive Officer. And his first act as CEO was procuring a 2 1/2 billion dollar low interest loan from his old department, the Department of Defense. Now, this is an example of favored or special access.

It works both ways of course. After Cheney becomes VP, Halliburton ends up with 60 to 80 billion dollars in defense contracts, most of which were procured without bids. Even the contracts procured with bids demonstrate that Halliburton was now an expert at bidding on defense contracts.

Now Macafferty is taking trips to Iraq and Afganastan on the Pentagon's dime. NBC is not paying for this.

And this whole time, McCafferty had a special relationship with a defense contractor called Veritas. I especially like that because Veritas means truth in Latin. McCafferty is asked to explain this relationship:

"In his written statements to The Times, General McCaffrey said his role with Veritas was “governance, not marketing,” and Veritas insisted that he never “solicited new or existing government contracts.”

General McCaffrey did, however, play an indirect role in helping Veritas win one of its largest contracts, to supply more than 8,000 translators to the war in Iraq. The contract had been held by L-3 Communications, but when General McCaffrey got wind that the Army was considering seeking new bidders, he called his friend James A. Marks, a major general in the Army who was approaching retirement and was versed in the uses of translators, having served as intelligence chief for land forces during the Iraq invasion.

As General Marks recalls it, General McCaffrey asked him to lead an effort to win the contract for Veritas. General Marks, who became a CNN military analyst after his retirement in 2004, would be named president of a new DynCorp subsidiary, Global Linguist Solutions, created in July 2006 to bid for the translation contract. In August 2006 Veritas designated General McCaffrey as chairman of Global Linguist. According to a 2007 corporate filing, General McCaffrey was promised $10,000 a month plus expenses once Global Linguist secured the contract. He would also be eligible to share in profits, which could potentially be significant: the contract was worth $4.6 billion over five years, but only if the United States did not pull out of Iraq first."

Now we have not just a shill for the Bush Administration, but someone who is going to make more money than God the longer the country stays in Iraq.

Read the whole article. I saved it on hard disc to refer to it later. It is a long and complicated thread. It explains how, every time McCafferty would say something bad about how the war was being run by the Bushies, Rummy would pull the rug out from McCafferty so that he would lose his 'favorable access.' Magically, McCafferty would appear on TV reversing his previous opinion.

I am not going to ever believe another general as he gives some opinion unless I know his entire financial background.

"He would also be eligible to share in profits, which could potentially be significant: the contract was worth $4.6 billion over five years, BUT ONLY IF THE UNITED STATES DID NOT PULL OUT OF IRAQ FIRST.
(Emphasis added.)

So the more favorable his opinions on the management of the war, the more favorable access he got from Rummy. And the longer we stayed in Iraq, the more money he made.
Masters Of War

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead