Thursday, July 13, 2017
The Strangeness in Her Smile
Greta nearly threatened Rupper with her
magic. Not much of a threat since it
mostly focused on insuring Good Luck.
He left anyway. Bearer of multitudinous
maladies, many real, he went to live
with his sister and brother, both single
physicians.
After a year’s hit and miss relationship,
Hinton moved into her condo. A Boeing
engineer, he laughed at any mention of
magic. “Doesn’t fly!”
To avoid his sarcasm, she kept her
various strategies to herself.
But he discovered the mildest. She had
found a bright penny many years ago
and kept it in her mailbox, sealed in
a transparent little bag such as
watch repairmen use for tiny screws.
He had a key to the mailbox and was
surprised to find it there, as he was
the reminders she wrote to herself.
“For mail, US Mail!” he spat. But
everyone in the condo association
had other uses for it too.
“Lax everything around here!” As if
such habits ruined the world all
by themselves.
Hinton gave her the identical, blessedly
compact, lecture he had given his mother.
"The Rational Is My Magic God!”
Overkill for her small ways.
She soon kept an internet printout
in the mailbox.
How to help your husband’s job reward
him without question.
No worry: written in a secret language.
The one spell there she preferred
translating into English.
Mostly because the last word,
Hullmists, had such agreeable
sibilance.
And if she lingered over the m,
too, a resonance that vibrated
her for hours.
A few month later, Hinton
announced his promotion.
“That’s because you know
literally everything!”
True enough, but her Mona Lisa
smile knew something also.
Labels: disorder, engineer, magic, Mona Lisa, order, rational
Tuesday, April 04, 2017
Important!
Brel finally decided
in order to get the rest
of them off his back!
Then almost immediately,
felt sick.
He confided in Rugsy.
"I feel...The Great Pretender.
Some of our friends are
rational, do things step
by step. They're happy!"
“Seem to be. Whereas you throw
the dart and then draw the
bullseye around it.”
“I give anything to know what
I was doing!”
“Ah but you do. Called doing
what the fuck you please,
and screw everybody and
everything else!”
“That bad?”
“Bottom line: You're just a
stubborn Irishman.”
“But I'm a Frog!”
“Not in this!
Labels: decide, French, Frog, Great Pretender, Irish, irrational, making decision, rational
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Go Figure
Solutions
-When did that pat little model come down?
Problem-solving? Marshaling your little
evidences and, Voila, an answer asserting!
-Aristotle, through Sherlock Holmes.
-Whatever. It's sheer bullshit! You get nowhere
with some messes. Some are better ignored.
Some of the few allegedly solved come back
to bite your ass repeatedly.
-Are you coming out against Western Rational Man?
-He’s an utter asshole!
-Should you have no method then?
-Probably.
-Then, what should you do if...?
-Flip a coin. That doesn't piss the gods off.
They get a kick outa it.
-And us?
-Especially us.
Labels: Aristotle, logic, problem, problem-solving, rational, Sherlock Holmes, Western
Monday, October 22, 2012
The March of Slime
When Crazies argue,
the result proves
2+2 = 5. Addition-
al number factors
agitation for us all.
Whereas when Rationals
discuss, they’ve understood
the overall, and compromise
mollifies the other sanes
to some degree, so much
media rashly prods
the truly venomous
to palliate the boredom
of the good. After a spell,
raucous quotes have spun riot
in retaliation for hum-
drum minimal sense.
The diction dives enough
to stir up Talk Radio and
other shit buckets.
Labels: argument, boredom, crazy, rational, Talk Radio
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
So
the rational serves
a bit
till things go
from bad to worse
courtesy of The Imp
of the Perverse.*
*E. A. Poe
