Thursday, October 31, 2013

SELL EM & GET MORE or Nidaba Presents: The Real Story of LOT & Sodom And Gomorrah

Nidaba, goddess of accounting for the ancient Babylonians, floated closer to the bedside of the Pope. “Listen pontiff, I’ll explain it one more time.”

“How, how did you get in here?” demanded the Pope. He had been awakened by this thing saying something about collections.  He was thinking souls. He guessed this was a nightmare.
Nidaba smiled and said. “Really now, you have to ask?” Let’s get to the point. The bosses up in the HQ are a little miffed. They sent me to see you and some others members from this syndicate of myth based operations.

The Pope sputtered, “What are you talking about? You’re insane.”
“LISTEN TO ME.  WE ARE NOT AMUSED! NOW SIT DOWN OVER THERE AND LISTEN.”  Nidaba waited until the Pope had a sip of wine to calm his nerves and sat down to where she indicated.
Nidaba continued, “The last time we had to do this was when things were a bit more local. It was a lot easier. Your sheep that you milk were, how should I put it, a bit more gullible, simple and more inclined to accept basic rules of business.”  She stopped to see if the point was hitting home. She could tell it wasn’t
“I’ll make it simple. You are the COO of your franchise, The Catholic Church. You haven’t paid up in, wait let me look.” She flipped through her iPad®, looked up and said, “Ah yes, centuries. Aren’t computers great?  It’s all right here; no rifling through tons of clay tablets.  Oops… no sorry, its millennia in your time designations. We asked for payment a few times, the black plague, and your two world wars.”
The Pope was attempting to maintain his composure. “Sir, madam, with all due respect, I have no clue to what you are referring.”
“Okay big boy. Here’s how it works. We run this universe. We are The Myth Makers, Inc. We give you all the right to use our various names, which by-the-way are registered trademarks like: God®, In God We Trust®, Under Heaven ®, Allah® and so forth. We could sue all of you for breaches of contracts in the courts of our choosing. How would that look? Think about the political ramifications in that one.”
“What? You’re crazy.”
She continued, “All the names of deities, as your kind presents them, are trademarked. You can see it any time in the law offices of Val, Hall, and La. You haven’t paid your franchise fees in some time. You are in default and breach of contract in any court of law anywhere in the universe.”
“And how are we supposed to get to this office?” demanded the Pope. “This is a joke. Some one wants to drive me mad.”
“Not my department. I’m the collections agent, AR, the accountant. Just call me Nidaba. I have a job to do. Others just like me are in the process of the same thing at exactly the same time.”
The Pope didn’t believe a word. But this apparition was in front of him. No one ever mentioned this to him. Was it because he wasn’t Italian? The last Pope suddenly quit. “Can I make a call?” He requested
“Sure, you want to call the Imam? How about the President of the American Plutocracy? They used pay regularly, and on time too. That’s how they got to be where they are. They are having some payment issues. You guys had it once, but you fell behind. We’ve been too nice.”
A phone popped out of nowhere. The Pope stared in disbelief.

Nidaba laughed. “Your faith has been shaken. Sorry. It happens. We franchise the rights to propagate myths. Some are religious and others political. The bottom line is they are all economic. You pay us, you keep your franchise. You do whatever you like, whenever you like…as long as you make your payments.”
“What if we don’t?” demanded the Pope. He was sure this was a very complicated joke.
“Okay you want the biggest example when we were really pissed off?


“You think Sodom and Gomorrah was about sin? We don’t give two shits what you consider sin. It’s relative. We wanted payment and they wouldn’t come up with the money.”

We gave them a few warnings. But no, so we vaporized the city. We decided that was going a bit too far. Now we just let the civilization rot until we can deal with some potentate having a bit more common sense. We didn’t have more collection problems until the idiots in Rome became full of themselves.”

Rome, always Rome. You guys are a pain in the ass, and the whole Middle East what a bunch of knuckle heads. And the Chinese, we can count on almost every 300 years going through the same destruction exercise.” Nidaba was exasperated.

“I bet my assistant is having a hard time in Tehran,” Nidaba whispered to herself.

Sodom and Gomorrah was sin. Lot….” The Pope stood up as he spoke. This was blasphemy.

“Listen big boy, Lot was attempting to get you guys to pay. He was our local agent. Now sit the fuck back down. You owe us damn it. You used our trademarks, made a fortune and grabbed power. This doesn’t come free. I don’t care how you come up with the gold or… slaves. Here’s the bill for say two thousand years and interest. I’ll give you a break of 500 years and cut the interest in half. You have 7 days, get it?” Nidaba disappeared.

The Pope looked at the bill. He almost had a heart attack. His phone rang. It was the head of the Anglican Church. A shaky voice on the other end introduced himself with his code words, “(TOP SECRET) Father…” and stopped.
The Pope said, “Yes it was here. What are we to do? Have you seen the invoice? I had no idea, all these years. They left us holding the bag those bastards.”

Thursday, October 24, 2013


Vincent the security guard walked across the promenade that in the winter was the ice rink. He looked about and noticed the rather large rotund man asleep on the wooden park bench with his two bags neatly folded underneath and atop of a plastic sheet to protect them. His jacket was rolled under his head as a pillow. He had slept there for a few days now.

There was a lot of talk regarding lay-offs and furloughs. Vincent felt the town’s insecurities only made his job more secure. It wasn’t a great job, but it was a job. He told his boss, “I think that old guy out there,” as he pointed to the bench, “I think he was some government contractor. He’s too old to get a job and got thrown out of his home.”

“That’s the way it goes out there,” waving his hands the direction of the fountain. “Too bad for him. Just make sure he’s outta here, soon,” commanded his boss.

Vincent looked about and inhaled deeply. The morning was fine, about 75 degrees, low humidity and there was a slight breeze. The sun was beginning to just caress the corner of the building that sat on Market Street on his left. Vincent walked over to make sure the “old guy” was still alive, and that being the case, then continued on to his rounds and duty station.

A six foot six, silk suited, cigarette smoking, well-build gentleman watched the proceedings from the smoker’s “leper colony” AKA “smokers area”, in front of Panera’s, and from beneath the shadows of the overhang. He nodded as he observed the security guard make his rounds and as the guy asleep on the bench began to stir and wake up. He figured the old gentleman knew he had to vacate the area before the business crowd arrived, and most assuredly before the stores opened for business later at 10 AM. He guessed that this arrangement was either understood or had been verbally explained and accepted. Reston could have no bums. The shoppers, and the business folk, didn’t want their vision sullied or reminded of the current job situation by the sight of such a creature.

Another observer to the morning goings–on was a guy named Rudy. He was people watching as he walked to the black metal table that was chained to an anchor imbedded in the concrete. Rudy was about to sit down with his breakfast, an egg sandwich and coffee, when he noticed a bag on the ground. Before he began to eat, he picked it up and walking over to the trashcan he also picked up an empty coffee cup someone had carelessly deposited on the ground. Both these items were placed in the trash receptacle. Only after this had been done did he wonder what diseases might be on the garbage he just disposed of. “Do I go into the washroom or not?” he asked himself.

Rudy thought, screw it. It was too nice a morning to eat inside. This was a great location to eat, to sit and to observe before he had to attend a computer class. Rudy returned to his seat and began to eat the egg sandwich, watching and eavesdropping as best he could. A few tables away there was a bone thin woman in a black jacket and pants, in an animated conversation with a guy in sharply creased blue jeans, tan, very expensive shoes and a black polo shirt that barely fit over his bulging stomach. From the bits and pieces of the conversation that Rudy overheard they were obviously coworkers. And as co-smokers, they were just like the others that came and went with cigarettes in their stained hands, banned from the interior of the building while partaking of this drug. They did not appear to be in any hurry. He figured they must be the managers or business owners.

A group of four others stopped just before the door to the offices, inhaled deeply to get that last bit of drug, and milled around for a second or two in what appeared to be an invisible demarcation that they couldn’t cross, exhaled and then crossing that invisible line, entered the building.

The two people’s conversation that Rudy was observing, and trying to get a better handle on, consisted mostly about some coworker that did or said something that was supposedly true, but not politick. They were joined by a third person, better dressed in slacks, a tailored shirt and tie. This guy seemed to know a bit more regarding the story, spoke for a minute or two, looked at his watch, snuffed out his cigarette, and motioned toward the interior of the building while stating, “See you inside in a few minutes.” The other two just nodded.

The difference in dress between the guy in the shirt and tie and the relaxed manner that the two sitting down seemed to display, led Rudy to assume that they were the company owners.

Rudy then noticed the tall guy in the silk suit. He had longish thick straight blond hair. It was combed back and just touched the collar of his suit jacket. The fine cut and the quality of the suit was obvious to Rudy who had sold men’s clothes “in a past life”. He was well aware of what constituted finely made clothes. Rudy looked the guy over as best he could without being too obvious. The tall guy hadn’t moved except to light another cigarette. He kept staring at the old guy on the bench.

Rudy didn’t smoke. The spot was convenient for sitting, eating and watching, and sometimes, the perfume from a cigarette or a cigar just smelled good to Rudy. Today was one of those days.

Rudy also noticed that the tall unmoving gentleman was rather well built and in a strange way. His muscle bulges covered and framed by the suit jacket reminded him of the angel in the movie Michael, after Michael had been cleaned up.  

Rudy sat back and watched it all. The smoking section location was dark and rather private. It gave him a bit more advantage allowing his staring of not being too obvious. He liked that.
Sometime earlier, in an ethereal location, an animated conversation had been carried on.

She Who Must Be Obeyed looked at Her Number One troubleshooter, “Hey Soose,” she said with a NYC accent, “You know what? I want to end this. This has gotten to be a very bad joke. For sentient intelligent beings they are sure mean nasty mutha fuckers to each other.”

Hey Soose responded, “Yes it has turned into something neither one of us expected. Look, I have an idea before you go smiting and all that, I’ll bet you that there is at least one human being that would have the kindness of heart to take pity on a fellow human being without being asked. What do you think?”

She responded still on her train of thought regarding the human’s obvious inhumanity and stupidity. “Yes it has. How does anyone destroy a planet? And they seem to be doing a fine job of it. I say fuck-em and be done with them.”

She continued aloud, “Terraforming would take some time but a clean slate, learning from my mistakes, and being a bit more careful, I think we could manage a better program.”

Hey Soose asked, “True, but how about one new try? And if not, then do as you wish. I sort of like these insane beings. They have some rather interesting cultural aspects and the women are rather pretty.” As an afterthought he quickly added, “And if you recall, You created them. So in some fashion they do represent, and hold a, shall we say, small genetic, maybe holographic similarity to you?”

SWMBO looked at him and scoffed, “YOU DARE! You men are all pigs.”

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but who made us that way?”

SWMBO thought, had anyone else said that to her, gone. But Hey Soose, it’s just that for the very reason he is her number one, he speaks the truth. “Okay what do you want to bet? What are the stakes?”

“I bet I can find one human that without prodding or some fashion of guilt tripping, will aid some poor unfortunate. If I can find just one, then you hold off.”

After some consideration that was seconds to her and would be years to the inhabitants of this rock, SWMBO answered, “A deal, but if you do find one the bet holds only so far as this being stays alive, and good luck with that. After his or her demise, the bet is cancelled and we start again, a deal?”

Hey Soose knew this was the best he was going to get. “A deal,” he said. “And if I lose, they are yours to do with as you wish.”

Hey Soose knew it and SWMBO didn’t have to say it, and she thought, they are mine to do as I wish no matter what. However this exercise could be fun, and watching him squirm to find the impossible, even more so. She stared directly into his eyes and said, “There are a few more things.”

Oh shit he thought, the small print. He only said, “And what might they be?”

“You have 7 of their days and it must be in a very well-to-do area. I pick Reston Virginia.”

“As you desire, My Lord,” he said bowing. Sometimes his over the top old-fashioned formality had a way of calming her, or making her laugh.

She smiled, yes he knows me she thought. She pulled on a wing drawing him to her and gave him a kiss. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”


Back in Reston, Rudy looked at his watch. It was time to go to class. He got up, trashed the wrappers from his breakfast and headed toward Market Street. At the same time the old gentleman rose off the bench, picked up his bags and was heading in the opposite direction from the one Rudy was walking. As the old guy passed Rudy, Rudy asked, “Sir would you like a few bucks for breakfast?”

The old guy stopped, stared, and with a smile of gratitude and surprise he said, “Yes. Why thank you.” Rudy handed him about twenty dollars in ones and fives. As Rudy was walking away the old guy asked, “What is your name?”

The question was unexpected. Rudy surprised, looked back, “Rudy,” he said.

“Thank you Rudy.”

“You’re welcome sir.” And Rudy continued on to his computer class thinking about this and that, never noticing the old gentleman discorporating into the ether.


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Fall Sun Light

Late day October sun.
The heat caresses my face;
my eyes, under a brim and shaded.
And slipping in from the North East
a sharp breeze presages
a reminder of what is to come.

Friday, October 18, 2013


Some said the rain would affect the planet, the people and the minds of those who were left.

No one noticed any changes except for lots of rain, contaminated land masses, fewer crops and colder weather; nothing out of the ordinary.
Emptus Cadus looked out the window. It was raining. It seemed as if it was always raining. The Dee Lye Surgic acid rain continued to fall which was a result of the continuous wars fought in other countries over three generations ago. The wars and the fallout created a nuclear winter and with it great changes. Almost constant rain was the reminder of the mass migrations of homeless and starving people from south of the border and the western shores of the continental United States, as it was still called.

True believers in Kookbanelli Unscience, Blessed Be Thy Name, came to power after those great floods, and the mass migrations of foodless and homeless were put down. Tactical nuclear weapons were employed to eliminate these immigrants that no one could feed, house or employ. They were just so much surplus baggage. They didn’t even speak English. The use of the weaponry was considered a humane and most moral obligation, a moral imperative, like euthanizing  sick animals.  
Those who were left in North America, mainly anyone not near an urban area, and demographically catalogued as rural poor, uneducated and or extremely reactionary,. In today’s world, that same demographic voted their unconsciousness and elected the Unscience Kookbanelli Party, Blessed Be Thy Name. There was no real opposition. Where would they come from?  Everyone subscribed to Unscience. It made sense. Science only brought on liberal thought, and waste and the unmentionable equality of the unequal, and that was immoral. Morality was the highest goal espoused by Kookbanelli I, II, and presently III, Blessed Be Thy Names.

Heady with power, the Kookbanelli I Party, Blessed be Thy Name, eliminated any possible opposition that could be mustered. In a few years time, and with the aid of a good PR firm, strong financial backing and goons recruited from the poorer uneducated side of the tracks, and along with disaffected former military types, the Kookbanelli Party, Blessed be Thy Name, shut the schools and colleges down. They were banned as pits of immorality and free thinking, as they were.

True to the moral imperative as espoused by Kookbanelli I, the Party forced all females into dumpatories where they were indoctrinated to rethink and confess to their crimes of assumed equality. After a few generations, the Kookbanellies, Blessed Be Thy Name, had completely fulfilled the wishes and most improbable goals of the earliest founders of the Unscience Party.

Emptus now stood in front of the compulsory video news report. “All is well with the world,” said the rip-and-read reporter with the one eyed head-scarf . “Beloved KOOKBANELLI III, Blessed Be Thy Name, won the election, as predicted and foretold by our soothsayers. Blessed be Unblasphemy.”

Emptus put on his sacred head scarf and prayed to Unblasphemy. “Thank you for electing one such as him, True Deniers of the false religion of science, and unto him the laws of pro-creation.” He finished with the latest catch phrase, “Less Thought Means a Happier Life, my best wishes.”

The video screen acknowledged his prayer with a dispensation coin to be used at confession. Emptus rarely went to confession. He had a jar full of the coins.

The household female, had no-name since females were not allowed to have names as in ancient Japan. Girls were simply indicated as a female child or female in the family resisters. Females were necessary for procreation only and a bother. She had birthed six pairs of healthy children in quick succession. She was almost spent according to the laws. Emptus deciding whether to keep her for one more birth cycle or terminate her existence as was the custom. She backed into the Sacred Video Emplacement with a cup of coffee.

Emptus was distracted by the news and then by the hail and hello shouted by Clod, his fellow male-mate-in-arms, to whom all true love devotion and honor could be applied morally and legally. He didn’t see or hear No Name enter with his demanded coffee.

“Clod, make your prayers. The Kookbanelli Administration, Blessed Be Thy Name, has been reelected, as foretold by the soothsayers, Blessed be Them. We will have six more years of pure Unscience as per the gospels promulgated by the Most Reverend Kookbanelli III, Blessed Be Thy Name.

Clod changed his street head scarf, dark with only one eye hole to his sacred two eyed one, only worn in the presence of the blessed video screen. Kookbanelli III, Blessed Be Thy Name, said one eye is enough to see the world. Why waste brain energy using two? Less brain energy meant the requirement for fewer calories, and this was a blessed thing since the Holy ones required the calories in order to more properly root out the blasphemous and save the world for the true Unscience Believers. Blessed be Kookbanelli.

Clod made his prayers and was acknowledged. He came up to Emptus Cadus and inquired, “Are you going to terminate this female. You have produced twelve off-spring. You have done your duty to Sod&State. What more can you want of this being?”

Emptus was thinking more of food. His stomach was empty. His mind was empty. He was always hungry. He felt ashamed of that fact and was sure no one else felt that way. The truth was he couldn’t tell since every man wore the one eyed anti-blasphemy head scarf. Biometric facial emotional recognition was eliminated, and that was a moral imperative. And too, hunger was erased from the land. The Blessed Ones declared it so. It must be him. He thought he should seek penance. But he always held back.

“Oh, No-Name? I’m not sure. She keeps the house in order.”

Clod interrupted and cried, “But we only have rations for two, me and you.” He caught his breath, calmed himself and continued, “The offspring are now old enough and have been relocated to the Sod&State Parententary. They are no longer our concern. Get rid of her.”

Emptus had other deep blasphemous thoughts and desires. They focused on no name. Food and hunger he could confess to; desire for a no-name meant rethought and possible lobotomy, for the truly incorrigible.

He had seen the end result in others. The easy mindlessness which the truly lobotomized displayed, voting and agreeing with the Sacred Video, no arguments to fight, no questions to ask or answer, and most of all, accepting. It was something he wished he could accomplish on his own without the assistance of the Sod & State. More than sometimes he had his doubts. Those he kept them to himself. Not even Clod was aware of them.

Emptus looked at Clod with a loving eye. Here was a man who respected him and devoted himself to his welfare. EV was able to procreate while Clod had been born without the ability to produce the necessary fluids. Emptus was considered a national treasure, a Creator. There were fewer and fewer like him as time went on. The Creators were given leeway in some of their actions and statements.

Clod was deemed a mentally superior being. He had scored in the upper one percent of Mendacty Intelligence test. He had his choice of any partner he could desire. Clod picked Emptus years ago for reason he could not even recall today. Having this no-name for all this time was getting on his nerves and in truth, was stretching the food rations to the limit since they weren’t due to procreate again. Tomorrow, he was taking a vacation to get away from No Name, the rain and Emptus who was becoming a bit strange. He wasn’t as affectionate as before. Maybe he needed a vacation too.

Emptus looked at Clod and cooed, “Clod why don’t you meet me in the den. I will bring some drink and refreshments. After which I will no-name terminated. She is a bother as you have observed. When you return from for your vacation, the apartment will be as it should be. Now give me a kiss. I’ll be down in a minute with some refreshments and fun.”

Clod was joyous. All doubts regarding Emptus evaporated. No Name would be gone and he guessed this was going to be a good going away evening. Down to the den he went, his feet barely touching the steps.

Emptus came down a few minutes later wearing what Clod could only guess were painted on jeans. There was no guessing about any part of Emptus’s anatomy. “Clod, sit down next to me and let’s listen to more Kookbanelli, Blessed Be Thy Name, speeches. They are such a turn-on. Power is just such an aphrodisiac. Don’t you agree?”

Clod gulped his drink nodding. He’d agree to anything at this point. But to his surprise his eyes were getting heavy. Soon his drink fell out of his hand and he slumped in his chair and lost consciousness.

Emptus looked at his partner and then at no-name. He called, “No Name, come here and help me dispose of the body. No one will miss him. I’ll say he never returned and I will have the rations for the two of us.”  He had never mentioned his feeling to no-name and all this came as quite a shock to her.

He had been living in his own reality. The rain was coming down harder.

No-name looked at the body aghast. “I can’t do that. It’s against the Kookbanelli, Blessed Be Thy Name, way of things. I must not, I cannot live with you. My function is over. I must be terminated. It is necessary, proper and moral. This is a moral society. You are a blasphemer and must be reported.”  She ran screaming from the apartment.

Emptus Cadus wandered happily back to his home from a Kookbanelli III Party program. The video greeted him as he entered. Emptus bowed to the image of the Kookbanelli III and said grace, “No Questions, a Happier Face. Blessed be Kookbanelli III.” 

Emptus smiled a sort of empty smile. He had duties to fulfill. She was waiting in the bed room. Emptus would do his job, no questions asked. It felt good too, that helped.

He was about to enter and begin his assigned task. He stops and ponders some nebulous memory but he can’t quite remember what. Was it something about someone he once knew?  He stares out a window. The rain begins again. “No questions,” he repeats to himself and walks in.