Whether Aesop’s personage is of history or legend, the Greek fabulist, which legend dates to the 7th century BCE archaic Greece, is credited by posterity with numerous allegorical tales, known collectively as ‘Aesop’s Fables’. These fables represent wisdom thousands of years old; probably long predating Aesop, and certainly long predating their current truncated form.
The fables are characterised by animals that take on human characteristics; they interact, solve problems, and are used as a vehicle to impart fundamental truths, not merely about what it is to be human, but, more pertinently, what it is to live in a society constructed by humans. Over thousands of years the context may have changed, and the technology, the wizardry, the gadgetry has certainly changed, but the types of methods used by the predators who live amongst us, against the naïve, have not.
There are a number of fables that really do pertain to our political situation. I thought I’d share one of them today and cogitate a little on how it reflects on our current reality.
There was once a house that was overrun with Mice. A Cat heard of this, and said to herself, “That’s the place for me,” and off she went and took up her quarters in the house and caught the Mice one by one and ate them. At last the Mice could stand it no longer, and they determined to take to their holes and stay there. “That’s awkward,” said the Cat to herself. “The only thing to do is to coax them out by a trick.” So, she considered a while, and then climbed up the wall and let herself hang down by her hind legs from a peg and pretended to be dead. By and by a Mouse peeped out and saw the Cat hanging there. “Aha!” it cried, “you’re very clever, madam, no doubt; but we will not trust ourselves with you, even if your skin was stuffed with straw.”Moral ~ If you are wise you won’t be deceived by the innocent airs of those whom you have once found to be dangerous.
In our personal lives we tend to observe, to judge, and if it so happens that we should fall foul of some trick, we will generally not trust that person again. The above fable speaks of that. But when we apply this basic wisdom more abstractly, say, to an entity or an institution, the whole of society seems to be at odds with it. Take statism and all those who participate in the sacrament of voting. Politicians have rarely if ever shown themselves to be trustworthy, the entire political system even less so, but people will still queue at the voting booth, ready to have their good faith be taken advantage of.
Ironically, the more cynical amongst us, who rightfully question the legitimacy of this process, by way of an answer, invariably endorse a politics that will extend and not subdue the powers of the state. They seem to forget that in a society where power is proportional to wealth, and not official position, and where power is an extreme state of inequality, extending the powers of the Cat is therefore something entirely different to extending the powers of the Mice.
On countless occasions the official version of events has proven bogus. Indeed, a complete inversion of reality. Often at the direct expense of all those most caught up in the entanglements and iniquities of social life. Yet when we question and probe such matters – as we should – we are usually met with condescension and scorn. Immediately, our abilities are questioned, and we’re associated with names that have a bad smell. In light-hearted scenarios, the term “conspiracy theorist” is aired, in more serious ones, an ‘ist or ‘ism or ‘obic is thrown, forever to our detriment.
But if we were to ask the name-callers to prove some official dogma, without a referral to higher authority, they would be quite dazed, like somebody who was asked to defend their name. Because they haven’t really thought about it at all. Their knowledge is built upon taking things for granted; when in fact, if we’re being more observant, there’s every reason to not take things for granted. As long as honesty is rare, suspicion should be common.
To doubt the truthfulness of those who show themselves not to be trusted is wisdom so basic even a young child can grasp. But we need not be surprised if it’s repudiated by upper society and its sycophants; like an abusive lover repudiating a spouse’s well-grounded concerns by deceitfully flipping them on their head. Because it is simply gaslighting to denigrate timeless human wisdom as peculiar. As strange. As hateful. As suggestive of paranoia or even psychosis. Of course, gaslighting doesn’t work on all people. But it does work on enough of them to keep the Cats in business.
Honesty will always rankle with dishonesty. Whenever power is corrupt – and it is an abiding feature that it is – innocence and integrity are sure to be targeted. Such attacks will deter the thin-skinned amongst us who are unduly stung by opprobrium. But the thick-skinned, who are impervious to rebuke and ridicule, know that an attack on the person is never a reliable barometer of ultimate truth.
Nor is the schooling system and the various institutional frameworks through which society works itself, for they are in the image of Cats, and not in the truth which is independent of them. During an arduous, prohibitively expensive and time-consuming period of re-education, each Mouse is trained to think like a Cat and to be one that pretends ignorance when it comes to the threat of the Cat.
They no longer have the wisdom of the uneducated Mouse, which thinks for itself. They begin to have too much of the knowledge of the half-educated Mouse, which allows the Cat to do its thinking for them. Put together, they are no longer unsophisticated Mice that are sceptical of the Cat’s entreaties, they are sophisticated Mice that are trusting of them.
But whether the Cat is harmless or not is almost always to be ascertained. It requires an intellectual autopsy to see whether its skin is indeed stuffed with straw. If we are really to find out what power intends, we will surely find it, not in the self-examined fur which is sold to the public, but in the innards which the public examine.
Aesop’s tales still have relevance and meaning, and can impart wisdom all these thousands of years after they were first conceived. That probably says something; something about the immutable fabric of human organisation and management, and something about the type of things that are excluded from our attention, and the reasons why they are kept at a distance. Instead of being swept up in the hysteria of new political movements, we should take pause and reconsider what humans have always understood.
19 thoughts on “The Cat and the Mice”
Great piece! I was reminded me of the scorpion and the fox which I’m TOLD is about the capacity for evil in men.
I reject that, the scorpion said it best, “I stung you because I’m a scorpion.”, in reply to the Fox’s question, “..but now we will both drown. Why did you do it?”.
Your analogy fits much more securely.
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Thanks Kirsty! I suppose the Scorpion couldn’t help itself because it’s in its nature to hurt others; whereas humans, and yes, even the alliterate one, have the capacity to choose goodness over evil. Others over self. Though some are certainly like the scorpion and are their own worst enemy! Thanks again 🙂
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Excellent article Eddie, I love it and understand it, 🙂 🙂 x, extremely well written x
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Thank you Eileen 🙂 xx
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Enjoyed the post. I’m suspecting that you, like me, take a long view on “official” versions and have come up against the same blank look when you’ve questioned the official/company line. Have I been watching too many American political dramas?
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Ruskin said: “Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts the book of their deeds, the book of their words, and the book of their art. Not one of these books can be understood unless we read the two others; but of the three, the only quite trustworthy one is the last.” Which is my view. The truth is more likely to be found in the West Wing/Madam Secretary than it is in the newspapers. But I suppose I definitely have been watching too many American political dramas!
Really appreciate the comment. Thanks Wic!
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“We believe in truth, not facts…”, said Biden and was laughed at by everyone. I believe he knew exactly what he was saying. Oprah has taught us all, that each of us have “our own truth,”.
Morality is flexible, it is indeterminate, it is, above all, situational.
There is, therefore, a truth that we are taught through our newspapers and media.
There is the truth that can be found with out own eyes and hearts as we live, not based on history but based on the facts of the history we live.
There is Truth, and that Truth was ripped up by the situational ethicists of our time last night at SOTU.
However we have lived it, we have seen it and because we have discernment, we can believe it and rejoice in it.
There is a great awakening that has come upon us. The election of your great President, our vote finally counting in Brexit, after two PMs and three votes. China is not hidden anymore. We see N. Korea as the scared mouse that it really is. Iran, the country that has the fastest growing number of Christians on the earth, has been neutered.
The Truth is there, and we who know the truth of what is happening under our feet. Truth who is the Word, a man and God is the only Truth that can and will sustain us.
President Trump will win in 2024. I promise you.
Meanwhile, my friend, if you are a praying man, now would be a good time.
I know, I need an editor.
or a blog.
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Thanks Kirsty. I think the attack on Truth in our culture, as you mention, is born of postmodernism, which, in an unholy alliance with neo Marxism, has been used by the unscrupulous to usurp the existing order for many decades. We know that the Truth is objective, otherwise it’s not Truth; rather, merely personal preference. There can’t be a multiplication of personal truths for the same reason that there can’t be multiplication of the earth, moon and sun.
Objective truth lets everyone know where they stand in a culture. It’s married to facts and history, and forever faithful. And it unifies a people. Whereas a culture subdivided by subjective truths atomises the community, which has the effect of making it more vulnerable to exploitation by a predatory transnational class. The natural conclusion is the dissolution of national boundaries with people not so much being bonded to each other or to a place but to their own borderless sub-community, along the lines of race, gender, sexuality…
There is thus no springboard to fight back against a centralised global tyranny that hides behind the likes of Oprah and Biden and Obamas and Clintons and probably soon, Mrs and Mr Markle (I’m beginning to smell a rat with this story. These two would not be so audacious unless they had serious backing). The tyranny we speak of loves its anonymity, and is happy to trade real power for its appearance.
A people separated from the Truth, from each other, from the land, and from the past, are obviously immeasurably weaker than a people that are not. And that, I think, is the whole point of it. The elite class are globalists and most other people, whether they’re nationalists or not, still live in that outdated paradigm, hence the clash. But it’s in everyone’s interest to fight against predators. If they get their way so-called liberal values will be the first to fall to their sword.
Brilliant comment Kirsty! Thanks! You should set up your own blog 💻 📝. I’d be your first sub! 🙂
“I know a guy”, who could set up a blog for me. I wouldn’t have the first idea of how. However, YouTube would be spared my arguments and we would both be happier. As much as I despise social media, I am taken there by the knowledge that can be so easily acquired. That which has been hidden for years is bubbling up from the ground. Take that literally.
Interesting that you should mention the alliterative one and her less than noble Prince.
The following is a from a piece I posted on that very subject to another Brit.
I’m a Glaswegian who lives in Vancouver now. Voted in 2016 but didn’t go back for the next two votes. Anyone who tells you Scotland isn’t happy about being freed from the clutches of the EU are eejits, especially Sturgeon.
“This union has been planned for a long time. They are, above all, a PR Firm. They had been told many years ago, a “mixed race” member of the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, I mean Windsor (newly minted in 1917) may keep the natives happy.
Unfortunately, no one could tell that she was mixed race, so the mother whom she despised, who had left her at age 9 to her Father who raised her, was dragged out at the wedding. She was paid very handsomely and hasn’t seen her daughter since.
I do believe that they’re doing this so that the public will be diverted away from what’s really going on in the world. PDJT is winning the war on paedophiles/sex trafficking and the RF, Frankenpope and many “global elitists” are scared stiff. That’s the real story.
It’s not just Prince Andrew, it’s the whole lot of them over centuries. Sir Jimmy Savile, knighted by the Queen and no one thinks twice? Oh! How desperately deceived we have become.
They’re panicking because they know arrests are being made and some punishments have already been meted out.
The white hats are winning and the NWO is in retreat.
I haven’t seen Baron Rothschild in a sixmonth. Nor have I seen Barry or Billy Clinton which is strange in a Presidential season. The two “leaders” of the Democrats and not even a tweet when they’re choosing their rep for President?
Hillary’s facelift has given her a decidedly altered appearance.
Meanwhile the Dems are panicking, trying everything they can do to get rid of President Trump. If they can’t impeach him, he’s going to win again and if he wins again, their agendas are gone and their masters will be furious.
Hillary was supposed to win. We were supposed to be in a World War. That was the plan and Trump went and spoiled it. He did more than kill Soleimani when his troops were in Iraq and Iran during the little tussle outside the American Embassy in Iraq. That was a huge blow to the deep state.
The good guys have been very busy and the globalists are panicking big time and it’s got nothing to do with Harry and Meghan, “that I can tell you!””
I will never be as expert a wordsmith as you, EddieB, or as brilliant an essayist but I do have a tale to tell and a song to sing.
I also have a sense of humour, as any Glaswegian is mocked out of, both polite and decidedly impolite company, for the unforgivable sin of not being able to keep up with their patter! Something that is sorely needed.
I don’t know if you know a YT gentleman who is a bit of a laugh and a very clever individual. His channel is IPOT, an acrostic for In Pursuit of Truth. He has a twitter link called inpot. 1776. I am not a twit, nor a facebook, nor an IG, nor do I ascribe to any social media, but for the aforementioned YT. I could smell them coming a mile away.
Today his offering included a shot of the minority leader on the floor of the Senate. It is beyond disturbing as he talks to some invisible friend and then tells the same friend to remove itself from his chair. It’s more than halfway through the video, titled A Quick Burn.
Thank you for responding. It is so true that the laws of science are as objective as The Ten Commandments. Once they are broken, chaos reigns.
That is why Christ had to come, as those Commandments were made to show us how easily we break them every day, especially as defined by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount as he holds us accountable for our thoughts, as well as our behaviour.
After all, as a man thinks in his heart, so is he.
Your statements on neo Marxism and postmodernism were brilliant.
C. S. Lewis is my most beloved philosopher. Just wrapped up a brilliant course on “The Abolition of Man”, and “Mere Christianity”.
However, I will leave you with what I am told is probably not Aristotle, but since no one can attribute this quote to anyone else, I will give him the credit.
“Tolerance is the last virtue of a dying society.”
God bless you, Eddie B. and all who sail with you.
Let us, in future communication, assume my apology for my verbosity as I offer it here for the last time.
Didn’t POTUS talk about buying Greenland* to the horror of QEI and her “royal” cuz, Queen Margrethe II of Denmark?
Scots don’t allow her the QEII as the first QE was NOT the Queen of Scotland but of England.
Scottish vandals mutely approve as they black out one of I’s on the post boxes here. Hey, even the Clash used “whom” correctly.
*Is owned by Denmark
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Kirsty. You do yourself a disservice and give me far too much credit. You are overflowing with passion and insight, which is why you take flight to Youtube to make your valuable contributions. You could easily set up a blog. Believe me, if I can ANYBODY can. I’m a complete idiot when it comes to computers. I may as well be deciphering hieroglyphics than trying to compute a code soup. It gives me such indigestion, sitting there staring dimly at a blank screen, wondering why the computer is not doing what I want it to do. All I had to do was sign up to WordPress, choose a template design and learn as I went, which, in hindsight, was much easier than I made it. The one thing to remember is that, as far as I’m aware, if you don’t own your domain name the provider owns the intellectual property, and can shut you down any time they want to. And that isn’t a good place to be if your touching on contentious topics. And let’s face it, everything is contentious when you mount a defence of the Truth, in such dark times when it is assaulted daily without compassion and without remorse
I agree. Logic detests inconsistency – there’s more to the MM and PH ‘love’ story than meets the eye. The idea that a z-lister should be so well connected, and the RF so feeble, is patently absurd. As it is absurd that the RF should be completely ignorant of Jimmy Savile’s reputation. All of those protection officers buzzing around like busy bees and not one of them thought to mention his misdemeanours. The record and just plain common sense demonstrates just how well protected he was. By whom exactly, we’ll never know. Because the Law is Justice’s cheating spouse. But it doesn’t take a leap of logic to arrive at likely suspects. You’re quite correct in your assertion that the Royals are at heart a PR firm. Which is why it’s so difficult to believe that they could have all been taken in by this cheap chancer who has clearly been playing the role of her life. The whole thing stinks.
That was very odd behaviour indeed. It’s almost as if that to occupy the Senate one must park their sanity outside. Because the only way one can survive the daily intake of BS is to lose complete command of one’s senses. Certainly much easier than merely holding your nose.
I should really read more of C S Lewis. From what I’ve read, he was a brilliant man with a brilliant mind. Some great thoughts to immerse yourself in.
And yes, didn’t QEI of England execute Mary Queen of Scots after a classic case of entrapment? Not that Mary Queen of Scots was a particularly savoury character, her son was also a nutter. But probably a more savoury character than QEI and the power hungry neo Marxist leader of the SNP. What I don’t understand is that if the Scottish people want independence, and I’m sympathetic on this front, because I want independence from Westminster too, why would they want this under the banner of the SNP, and why on earth would they want to be part of the EU? That’s like escaping the gulag only to be confronted by thousands upon miles of tundra. If independence is really the goal, and by independence what we really mean is the illusion of independence, better to stay put in the gulag and wait for sunnier climes, than to make a frozen bed for yourself. Nicola Sturgeon is terrifying to me because she has the appearance of competence. In many respects, competent politicians are more dangerous than the incompetent ones, for they have the capacity to bring forth what they espouse, and what she espouses is quite alarming.
And yes, as you can see, I’m verbose as well! Thanks again Kirsty. Best wishes to you and yours
It is you, EddiB, that are being far too kind.
I laughed at your first comment! “I’m doing you a disservice”, is an oft used quote my parents would use if they let me off any of my family duties! The common weal was another phrase and in context, I knew the word weal. However, I came across it for the first time in my Bible yesterday. I went to my study Bible and it means, for the common good. Doing the dishes apparently, is part of the common weal.
Both of my parents were raised by Victorians, well chronologic Edwardians who had been raised by Victorians and the apple doesn’t fall far.
My paternal Grandfather was the epitome of a “scholar and a gentleman”, a most beloved figure who never went to church because Nana, my Grandmother, thought it was wrong to golf on Sundays!
“Was Sabbath made for man or man for the Sabbath?”, I should have said to her. However, correcting one’s elder was often worth a bollocking and I didn’t want to pay the price!
He was a surgeon, a consultant trained in Glasgow Academy as a boy and Glasgow and Edinburgh University as a man. My Father, his first born, his namesake, followed his academic path and is a surgeon, also albeit an ophthalmological one.
My maternal Gran lived her whole life in a wee council flat. My Mum was born ten days after Joch, my Grandfather died. He had taken the children in the street to the baths (public pool). He dived into the shallow end.
Gran wouldn’t let him through the door because she thought he was drunk. That night he awoke my heavily pregnant Gran and asked her if she would mind getting him something for his head. He was dead before she returned, obviously a massive cerebral haemorrhage. My Mum was born, the fifth child, 10 days later. If you ever asked Gran how he died, she would say with the wisdom of the ages, the stock answer she had for anyone dying, “He stopped breathing.”!
My Mum slept in a bed with two of her sisters growing up. My Uncle George had his own room and Gran shared her bed with one of her other daughters.
There was no such thing as the dole or welfare in those days. Her brothers helped her a bit but she cleaned houses and worked in a munitions factory. I remember feeling her palms filled with lead from the ball bearings. The coal fire heated the water and later on, you used to have to plug the meter for electricity.
I loved both of my Grandparents passionately but the fun and the love that we had in that wee council flat was unmatched. In Scotland, everyone had a “party piece”, a song, a mouth organ in their pocket, a poem, a dance, in my case a back handspring. BBC1 and 2 were all that was on the telly and Gran never owned one.
My cousin went on to great fame and Glaswegian adulation as he was the greatest striker of the Rangers football club and has won two golden boots. His name is Ally McCoist. I knew him as a wee scranner who cried when I beat him at board games. He’s actually a lovely man and I can’t believe the patience he has with people coming up to him constantly in Glasgow and in Canada. His Mother, who herself lives in a council flat was perfectly happy staying there, though he wanted to buy her a house. She flatly refused. As did Gran.
Although, there were somethings that happened because of him that were stunning.
During her life, my Gran used to sit at the window and watch the wains and smoke. She lived in the same place her whole life and when she died at 91, a pipe band marched up Thornliebank Street, stopped in front of her window,
and played Abide with me, followed by Scotland the Brave.
I tried to get my Mum to read “Angela’s Ashes”, but she scorned it and said she could write one herself. There is no question in my mind that, of my two parents, she is the more clever one. She still does cryptic crosswords in the Glasgow Herald every day, as do her sisters. She was asked to join a public school in Glasgow because she was such a great student, but my Gran said no.
I give you this because you’re my friend, someone I respect and someone that actually complimented me on my scribbling, my fingers have always been my sublimation. Whether it’s on the piano keyboard or this laptop’s keyboard, I work out my passions through them.
And my tongue of course. My Mother doesn’t allow anyone to get a word in, I will allow for it, though!
My offering to you, Eddie B.
As Don Corleone would say, “My gift to you.”!
I will send it quickly without edit or I will not send it at all.
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Kirsty! What an amazing piece of writing! And what an interesting read. A fabulous patchwork of tales brought to life by your unique combination of passion and flair and wit, seamlessly woven together by such ebullient prose. And what a great family from which you spring. So very talented. And such character. You’re right, the apple doesn’t fall far.
You really are a terrific writer. And you massively undersell yourself when you say, simply, that you have a tale to tell and a song to sing; when your nimble fingers should be regaling audiences with torrents of song. My friend said she would absolutely read a book of yours after reading what you wrote. You know what, I would too 🙂. Thanks so much for sharing it on my little blog.
What’s clear is that YouTube shouldn’t be the only outlet for you, your words are just bursting forth. I think you ought to set up a blog posthaste, and take a view in the long term to perhaps starting a book. Really, you must. When you do let me know and I will look forward to spending many a time losing myself in your flights of imagination.
Have Faith in yourself my Scottish friend. Your Faith will be warranted; it will unshackle your potential and you will soar. I promise.
And that’s my gift to you. Nothing nearly as ingenious. Just an emphatic notice of a very strong and unmistakeable light that shines forth from your words.
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When I say you have turned my head, it shall be pronounced turn ed. Eddie B and Handel’s Messiah both pronounce ed, ed.
I have sung the Messiah, first as a soprano, later as an alto. So I learned how to sing “ed” in fast moving 16th notes. My diaphragm is not as strong as it was then, and let’s me down but I know it’s just a lack of practice.
Could I? Should I?
I have never been more terrified and seized by joy at the same time.
It has come up. I have a good friend with whom I once worked. She is a GP and I rescued her from the wrath of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons by writing a letter of defense. Every word was true, as was every word of their claim against her.
They sited the letter.
Oh, Eddie B and your girl friend, a blog would be a good start. When I map out all the things I believe I must map out to write a book, it levels me. So I don’t map, I just write stream of conscious.
And one can’t write a stream of conscious book. This is not a hypothetical. It’s a real question.
Can someone whose two favourite movies are “The Sound of Music”, and “Scarface”, make any sense to anyone?
It’s the music. In Scarface it is relentless and it was a great tragedy, a la “Romeo and Juliet”. I watched it alone in the middle of the night for the first time and I never thought I would stop weeping.
I think it’s Yin and Yang. Two words that I really don’t know anything about except their definition, but it fits.
In my family I am surrounded by brilliance from ophthalmologists to PhD in pure mathematics. My daughter received many scholarships to get her PhD in Chemistry.
When she first read Chemistry, as we are a humble folk, she was able to use the “Co-op” program, which allowed her to study for 9 months, work in her field for 9 months, etc.
She was lucky, and if there is such an animal, I have never once glimpsed him, not even out of the corner of my eye.
I digress. All I do is digress.
She was able to go to Max Planck’s School of Chemistry, Physics and Math in Dresden, Germany for a 9 month.
When she came to her Professor to receive his verdict, the head of the Physics program was there.
He asked her if she could redo her paper “through a physics lens”?
She had six days before her flight back to Heathrow. She sadly responded in the negative.
He then asked her if she would be kind enough to allow HIM to use her work as a physicist.
She was gracious enough so to do. What a laugh, she could barely control her eagerness and couldn’t believe her good fortune!
So she was published before her undergraduate degree was finished.
Hilarity ensued as we read her paper, of which not one word could I understand, as her name was given pride of place as the first.
Her wee name with not even a B.Sc. after it. Just her plain old name. Followed by Dr. of this and Dr. of that and the first three Dr.’s were Dr’s of physics AND chemistry AND mathematics.
Hence, her scholarships.
It’s so much easier talking about other people.
I am being “random”, as some would furiously point out. There is no map, there is no constancy.
It was you, EddieB, who wrote, and I know you did, because I scribbled it down because I liked it so much, that “Logic detests inconsistency.”!
You have given me a matchless gift.
It has been suggested through the years, but not seriously.
It is because it is coming from you and a female friend of yours, that makes it feel like I’ve been slapped in the belly with a dead fish. (Monty Python)
I so respect your work and even more so, through a female friend, as any friend of yours would be your equal. The fact that she is a female is even better, no offense to EddieB.
I’m a sexist.
My Mother, as I, would never have dreamed of being so insulting as to tell our daughters, “You can do anything a man can do.”!
She did take advantage of one of your Universities to get her post-grad degree and when asked about Hillary Clinton whom I personally loathe, she said she would never vote for or against anyone based on their genitalia.
Yes! We have a winner!!
Ok, I’m leaving you now. Say hello and goodbye to your friend, kiss her on the forehead and tell her I love her, though yet I do not know her.
I am an addict in many ways and for that, I give thanks and hang my head in shame, although He is “the lifter of my head.” Isn’t that a beautiful phrase?
Anne of Green Gables used the world, “tragical”, which I embrace. As I do my children’s word, prezactly.
Spoonerism? Probably not, you need a phrase, but no matter.
I believe God has used you, my friend.
You can’t do a stream of conscious book and i am beyond undisciplined, as you can tell by reading.
I love your politics! Not you, personally, although you’re logical so I feel that I may know them, but American politics.
I love that Nancy Pelosi, who very publicly and with obvious foreknowledge of her act, ripped up her copy of the SOTU, and is now screeching, “unfair”, when some “random” guy made a meme of her doing this after he honoured such great individuals and marvelous accomplishments.
I hope I haven’t made an immediate enemy. Politics and religion, you know, should never be mentioned in public.
I leave you with two quotes from my friend, C. S. Lewis which you probably know already, the latter summing up my life, for good or ill.
“We have a body. We do not have a soul. We are a soul.”
“Courage is not just one of the virtues, it is every virtue at its sticking point.”
I finally take your leave, kissing your virtual hand feverishly, walking backwards nodding my head in deference and probably tripping over an ottoman.
Do you know that I can’t count sheep?
My sheep can’t jump the wall, no matter how low. They become a big wooly pile and while others following walk around, there is the odd one that will traverse the mountain of wool and make it over.
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Kirsty. Creativity isn’t disciplined. It’s a swirling wind that comes from God knows where, and transports you to a place beyond the horizon where the sky kisses the ground. You let the horse bolt from the stable, only fitting its harness for the heavy work once you’re in the meadow. Edit, Edit, Edit. This will be your watchword. The yoke to rein your imagination in. Otherwise there’s no telling where you’ll end up. Your horse is fast, but you’re just as likely to end up in Kentucky as win in Epsom or Epsom as win in Kentucky.
As impressive as “logic detests inconsistency” may seem (it really isn’t) it is in fact a sublimely simple combination of words. I’ve merely taken “logical inconsistency” – a peculiar phenomena blighting those most possessed by ideology – and made it into a verb phrase, inserting the interloper “Detests”. ‘Detests’ is that sullen college student who’s returned home for the holidays. Old enough to have read a little bit and thus loathe everything, Detests is also young enough to know absolutely everything. Detests tells everybody how stupid they all are without having to utter a word. Including Consistency. Especially Consistency! If Detests is of an artistic bent, and usually found with surly countenance, head buried in a book, its wrath will be saved most of all for Consistency!
One doesn’t need a map to know where one is, only to know where one is going. And you can only know where you’re going, by first knowing where you are. Concern yourself with places and not maps, then connect the dots. As long as the map is idiot proof, so that if the reader is to have a sojourn in Paris they don’t end up freezing at the North Pole, the story can be stretched to its outermost boundaries. It can be pushed to the limit of your imagination.
But who am I to say, really. I think it’s time for your nimble fingers to dance to the tune in your head. Happy scribbling!!
Your penultimate offering turned my head and lifted me to such a state that I actually phoned my beloved Dad and read it to him. He, of course, had once started a book. I knew at once that it would be military themed and have something to do with ships. I wasn’t disappointed.
His protagonist is first brought onto the scene after having been keelhauled and then sets out, as a young officer, to be of such influence to his direct superior as to save a Gallipoli like event.
I don’t know if it’s Albinoni’s Adagio in G- that brings us to our knees during the scene at the end when young, brilliant, evergreen life is smote upon the altar of the privileged. Lest we forget, one bought there position in those horrible times, as they, “polished up the handle on the big front door.”
You never have to wonder why Gilbert, the lyricist was refused knighthood, while his famous cohort, the musician, did not.
Again, I take the small roads to lead to the main.
EddieB. I was over the moon. I have been offered this praise before but never from someone who was actually a writer.
…and then I read your offering today and I am driven to a “tragical” place of despair.
Your second paragraph was so brilliant, so cleverly said that I know, at a glance, I could never have that eloquence.
That intricate knowledge of word play.
I am Anne of Green Gables to your Aristotle.
Thank you for adding the Scarface clip.
My dramatic soul has always eschewed riches for martyrdom, though I thrill at every close of every Dickens’ book.
My greatest wish, truly, is to die a martyr. I hope I live long enough so to do. I certainly can’t run and hide, as God saw fit to throw me down the stairs in 2016, rendering my lower right leg, after two botched orthopaedic surgeries, one successful one, and one successful plastic surgery to move flesh from a donour site to sew onto the 3″/3″ hole in the anterior of my ankle. It had been opened after used as a portal to drain the blood necessary when my tibial artery was severed during the second surgery, which was to correct the first.
I walk with a limp now when I used to dance and when I took my beautiful Geelz for a walk, I would cartwheel (but only at night, because I’m old), down leafy paths.
My dramatic soul doesn’t mind the pain exactly, it reminds me of David’s words in Psalm 51, “let the bones which Thou has broken rejoice.”, and I truly count my blessings as I navigate the hallways of my small abode.
I am a hermit by necessity and frankly, by design. This gives me a good reason for it, though!
I have been situated in perfection to write. Silly. I have scribbled always. I have played Beethoven when angry and Chopin when in love and Vivaldi and Bach when I feel clever, and am always dismayed at the attempt of the latter.
I could teach piano and voice but I choose not to do so. I have only lately returned to my instrument as my right ankle is not as supple as necessary for someone who uses the right pedal far too much. My right forearm is my donour site and my thumb is still numb, but not enough to give me an excuse not to play.
I have been blessed to sing Mozart’s Requiem, Mendelssohn’s Elijah, Beethoven’s 9th and other things with a full orchestra in halls with gleaming chandeliers and galleries where the bejeweled sit.
Not because I’m that good, but rather that I knew the director and he was kind enough to allow me to sing along.
In fact, I’ll never forget when he told me, after Mozart’s Requiem which he didn’t conduct as we were joining another chamber choir of professional caliber, that the director had something to say about me.
He announced this after we had finished and were taken back to the “holding bay”.
I thought I was going to get a bollocking. However, he said, “Mr. Washburn told me he was very impressed that you could turn your pages at the right place without ever having to look at your music. However, he added, you certainly were NOT the best vocalist on that stage tonight.”
Knowing that I hadn’t hit any wrong notes and my pitch matched those on either side of me, I took it as a compliment.
I am the most boring subject I know.
I can only thank you again, dear EddieB. and in return, leave you with this offering,
the aforementioned Albinoni’s Adagio in G-. The movie Platoon was blessed with Barber’s Adagio in G- which I must attach as well.
I must thank you, dearest friend whom I’ve never known but will always love.
You believed in me, whether rightly or wrongly, and I will never forget the honour.
I use penguins as my thumbnail as I feel more graceful in water than out of it.
I also love these magnificent things, I can’t call them birds. If I were a mystic, they would be my familiar.
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“Sometimes, you just to have play the role of a fool to fool the fool who thinks they are fooling you”
Thought you might like this:
I fell in love with, fools say, my Doppelganger in this movie.
I fell in love with again, all over again.
Thank you, EddieB
I’m going to miss you
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All the best. You’re an excellent writer and if you do set up a blog let me know and I’ll subscribe to it.
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If you’re wondering,
I look exactly like Dustin Hoffman in drag…
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