The Horse Whippers

STARRING: Bob and Ted and Ed and Gordon as The Four Horsemen Special Guest star: The Meek The horses were known as the Immortals. Beings that would live forever - if taken care of. Most were not. The fallen steeds littered the land. The living scoffed at these tragic endings. "How could they be so stupid? How could they be so blind?" it was said. "What drove them to do such a thing? Did they feel no responsibility?" Of everyone in the land, the Four Horsemen had picked the best horse. It was faster, stronger and nobler than any horse alive. Some said than any horse ever. The Four Horseman were the envy of all, but they had earned their ride. "Freedom," they said. "Freedom makes a horse powerful, strong and brave." Others around them had preached control, forever reeling in the reins, choking the spirit of their rides. "One must be conservative," they claimed. "One must keep a tight rein on that what you wish to keep." They simply ignored the evidence of the fruits of freedom - and thus were forever denied them. Life for the Four Horseman was luxurious. The freedom horse did more than any ten choked horses combined. But signs of wear were beginning to show. It was the whip. With the whip they had spurred it on and now it was even said it was the whipping that had made the horse great, not freedom. Bob was the biggest whipper of all. Bob returned from a trip, the horse lathered and streaming with sweat. A Meek Man approached Bob as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much of the whip will kill him!" "Fool!" bellowed Bob. "I picked this horse. He's mine for the taking. And anything that CAN be taken, DESERVES to be taken." "But, sir, only so much can be taken." "Are you blind? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" Ted took the horse next, loading the horse so high with goods he sat five feet high in the saddle. The horse wobbled in on his return. A Meek Man approached Ted as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much load will kill him!" "Who are you?" taunted Ted. "These are the things we deserve. We picked the best, we get the most. One can never have too much." "But, sir, only so much can be loaded." "Are you stupid? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" Next was Ed, who neither whipped too much nor loaded too much, he was a man who had found The Way. A Meek Man approached Ed as he dismounted. "Please, sir. The time to change has come!" "No need for change, my friend," evangelized Ed. "Yes, I know there are signs of wear, but bear this is mind: I do what has always been done. These signs have always been there." "But, sir, signs of wear cannot be ignored forever." "Are you self-serving? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" When Gordon took the horse, he used no whip but simply enjoyed the free ride of the most wonderful horse in the land. A Meek Man approached Gordon as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Can you not see the error of your ways!" "No need for alarm," gloated Gordon. "The sky is not falling. You say our ways are bad but I live the good life because I am good." "But, sir, your good life will end." "Are you a fraud? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" The Meek Man then asked to ride the horse to a place of nourishment and replenishing water. But the Four Horseman could not stand the idea of not having their horse to use. Said Bob: "If you deserved to ride a horse, you would have a horse." Said Ted: "What a useless proposal!" Said Ed: "That is not our way - and our way has made us great." Said Gordon: "We would be laughed at for allowing such a thing. No one else does that and we are surely as good as them." They mocked the Meek Man and sent him on his way. The day came when the great horse died - and all its lesser brethren. Upon seeing this, the Maker of the Immortals wept. "Is there no one who wishes to cherish what I have made?" When the Meek Man answered yes, the Maker rejoiced and cleansed the land, making yet another Immortal. "This you shall inherit," He proclaimed. The Meek Man then led the horse to the River of Life to share the land forever. For the Meek Man knew no other way.

Kurosawa dreams

Like I've said before, most of my dreams are just replaying the events of the day, feelings that are repressed in moments of stress. Not fun. Other times, I have no idea where my dreams are coming from. Once I had dream with Bruce Springsteen in it. We were walking along, having a discussion of constructive criticism of each others' lives. I was pointing out some things I clearly saw he needed to fix. Then he did the same for me. We both knew the other spoke the truth.

I grabbed a cat nap today. And in it I had a dream that spoke the word Kurosawa to me the entire time. I'm a huge fan of Akira Kurosawa. I've seen most of his films. So in my dream I was watching a film (Kurosawa's?) in a room with at least two other people, probably more. The movie was coming to the end part (I don't remember the first) and the guy next to me started leaning over to his friend and commenting on the film. I thought he was misinterpreting it as the film was entering a surreal phase, so I pointed it out to him. It was showing a sandy mountainous scene from afar and what looked like a heard of animals. But really, it was showing the entire earth under this very clear water and the "animals" were really just a bunch of wisps in the water.

But once I realized I was looking through water, it switched to a scene of clouds high up in the sky. We were speeding through them furiously when I noticed some sort of line on the horizon. It was the clear water. It reached all the way up to the clouds. And in the water I saw a dolphin made of clouds form, jump out of the water and then back in, only to disappear again. Some other recognizable shapes also did the same but were too quick to see before they vanished. And all the time I kept thinking "Kurosawa, this is Kurosawa."

At this I got so disturbed I woke up. Kurosawa was speaking to me. Why? I'm just a bum.

Hate as a commodity in the free market

Well, well, children, how many times a day do we hear this: "I hate you bastards. I hate you sorry ass (liberals, jews, immigrants, free loaders, brats, [fill in the blank here])". You know, find something you feel you're absolutely safe you won't be accused of being, and blame those people for your woes. Hate sells. You get to be all full of bluster and righteous fury and if you do it well enough people come and slap you on the back. Maybe even elect you to office (yikes!).

So why is the richest country in the world so full of so many angry people? Easy. Because we all hate capitalism - especially as a fucking religion. We hate having money (or anything) lorded over our lives. It's eating at our soul. You can choose not to believe this. Fine with me. But, man, we're pissed about something!

Thing is, you see, I believe in the free market. I loved economist Milton Friedman's Free to Choose series (for the most part). At 17, I was a subscriber to the Wall Street Journal and an owner of Friedman's book. While you guys were busy jacking off to cheerleaders, I was reading the Journal about everything from the theory of reflexology to the World Court in The Hague (OK, I was jacking off to cheerleaders, too). Capitalism was the only way - duh! Thought I knew it all at 17.

So the free market part is perfect - just as nature intended. Problem is, there are sellers among us who will sell anything. Which brings us back to what I said before: hate sells. There are people who have recognized this and use it to their advantage. No need to be honest, just find what the folks are hungry for and feed it to them. Hitler was the best at that. It's a seductive package when you get to slander others and get applauded for it. But of course, if you want to know the truth about someone else, you gotta want to know the truth about yourself.

I ain't your goddam conscience!

What we have here is: failure to bribe. I mean, gimme a fast car, good food and wild women and, yeah, I'd probably say everything is hunky-dory - and keep it the way it is. I wouldn't care how many people are suffering because they don't have money. What the hell can I do about it?? All I know is I got mine. Go get yours. Live the American nightmare.

However, since I'm on the receiving end of this, I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. I hate you and I spit on you and you can't stand it. You fear my words. For you know that without your money, you too would cry out to tear all this down and build something real. But you have been bribed to shut up. By keeping quiet, we can keep all our goodies. NOT!

Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." So if this Jesus guy is right, what we're really doing is destroying ourselves - all in the name of preserving ourselves. A tad ironic, neh? Won't be getting any sympathy from me! I'll be laughing my ass off watching you bastards standing in soup lines, grumbling, saying how this shit ain't gonna work. Too late then, moron!

So the bottom line is this: Get me one of these (SS version) and I'll shut up. That way it'll be nice and quiet as we rush towards the inevitable.

A Day in the Strife

    "Oh, shit. Don't come this way."
    Three spanish guys are walking in my direction. They're smirking about something. Maybe me. Maybe some private joke. Brace up, they're getting close. One of them is eyeing me. Wonder if he's gonna say something. No...they keep passing by. Is it for real or they going to turn around? Nah, I'm ignored now. Whew.
    Everything here is all pillars and concrete. Everything else is windows they spy out from. Just walking by an office gives me the creeps. Probably does them, too. I'm going to move over by the parking garage to get away from prying eyes. Now I'll just look like a car thief.


    Time for some food anyway. At last, I can conduct some Legitimate Business. I will be Purchasing a Product. Damn, gotta cross the street first. God, I hate that. All those people in those cars will see me. Judgmental bastards. Who's gonna laugh at the homeless loser scampering across the street? Four fucking lanes to boot.
    In a strip mall parking lot now. Convenience store at the end. Fuck! Bunch of damn teenage girls giggling out front. I'm not going to be their target. The world is all cell phones and clothes and cars to them. No concept of reality. Aliens. God, I hate them. I'd pay $50 just to kiss their toes.


    Good, Momma is rounding them up, I can go in now. Now it's time for The Eyes. All eyes will be on me, The Suspect. Employees, cameras, managers behind the mirror. What will the homeless guy try to get away with? They know I'm not one of them. My stomach's a knot as I approach the counter. Am I frowning without knowing it? I always wonder about that after I leave and start relaxing again. Clerk seems friendly enough. Two fried pies and a lottery ticket. See? I'm a legitimate customer. Don't hate me.
    It's hard to find a place to hide. I went into a truck stop once. It was awesome. Had everything, even a giant TV watching room. I remember sitting and thinking, "This is great! I can kill a lot of time here." Naturally, I got spotted by some trucker. "What kind of truck do you drive?" I said nothing since the only reply I could think of was 'Tonka'. He then went off to tell me how the room was only for truckers, yadda, yadda, yadda. Knew it was all too good to be true...


    Better to find a public place - anywhere away from businesses. Parks are good. Has to be a certain type, though. Not too nice, not too rough. Just blend in and eat your food. I know where all the good places are. I have secret hotel restrooms I use for cleaning up. You have to rotate around so you don't get "known". Staying clean is a huge advantage I have over other homeless guys. That and a P O Box.
    Food's gone. Day is pretty. Warm winter is lucky for me. I love being around people. Just watching them stroll through the park, seeing all the different expressions. I live vicariously through them. I need to see people laughing and living. Makes me see it is possible. Debby...


    Stress pains returning to my stomach. Dying in slow motion is not fun. I'm jealous of the deaths I read about in the paper. "Free at last!" I cry. We're stuck here. They get to go to a place where they're not dependent on others. No more false witnesses. No artificial rules. Just rise and fall on your own merits - as it should be.
    Libraries are great. A lot of my ilk abuse them, which just makes it harder for me. I love to get lost in a book and shut out harsh reality (but, man, it hurts when it comes rushing back in). Sometimes I get the nerve up to read in a book store but that's rare. Here, I'm supposed to read. I'm quite a literate fellow. I had a temp job at a warehouse once. One of the forklift drivers had a degree in literature. We got along well - the world had no use for either of us.


    Mordor is always lurking. Its trolls in blue scour the streets. Orc punks taunt and attack us. The great Mordor nation blows black smoke into the skies and declares itself  Holy. There are few places where the great Eye cannot see. Sure wish I knew how to live out in the country like that pot guy does. Here, the Black Riders hunt you down and their idea of redemption is to make you one of them.
    The nightmares of the day replay in the nightmares of the night. Always surrounded. Always on the run. I've had dreams where my whole life is nothing but an eternal chase. Still, I need to try and rest. A cop already came by. They know about this place for sleeping. It'll be OK as long as there's no break-ins in the area. I'd be the first suspect.

The Inn of Debby

   The hotel clerk was matter-of-fact.  
   "Sorry, sir.  There's no room for you."
   "But," I protested, "there's supposed to be a spot just for me.
It's a reservation made by God."
   "Yes, I see that, but that room is occupied."
   He was so quietly efficient, so "it's-a-done-deal" about the
whole thing.  Didn't he realize I was being left out in the cold!
   "Well, who the hell is in there?"
   "A 'surfboard', sir.  A tall, blonde Swede - employed in the
banking industry I believe."
   "She gave him my spot?"  Devastation.  Humiliation.  Panic.
   "How could she do this?  Why didn't she wait for me?"  But 
clearly my words were falling on deaf ears.  I decided to circumvent 
his cold reality.  "Let me speak to Debby!"
   "Sorry, sir.  She's not speaking right now."
   "She'll speak to me, about this."
   "No, sir.  She's not speaking to anybody about anything.  She
thinks that is what's best - silence."
   His stone face was final.  My heart cracked.  I turned to leave
when the clerk called out to me.
   "Just one thing, sir.  Clearly, you are homeless.  Just how did
you plan on paying anyway?"
   I sluffed back out into the cold, reservation unkept.

Lost in the Icelands

When lost in the Icelands, Fear is your friend, for you go no place without it. You never truly rest. You may doze a little, you may nod off, but if the flame goes out, all is lost. Life in the Icelands is no life at all. The wind never stops. The cold blows day and night, forever howling in your ears. The sound alone can drive one mad. So easy to see it happen. Icy fingers grasping onto your heart, trying to squeeze out all your warmth. Where is everyone? Snowblind, I wander and call out, but there's no reply. Is no one there or do they just not speak because they see I'm blind? I came here to get away, now I can't find my way back. The shivering wakes me up again...frozen terror laying siege on my soul...oh God, please let me rest...how much longer can it last?...I ask God to make the howling wind stop...but I get no reply there either...