All posts by Jayhawkdano@comcast.net

Moving from Chicago to Kansas at the age of ten is bound to have some affect on a kid. I was a Polish/Irish boy in the land of Smith/Jones(s) . Humor became my go to coping mechanism and reading/science became my refuge. That is the recipe that created the person that I am today, an engineer who, um, shall we say “sees the world differently”. I am no longer in Kansas. They were done with me quite a while ago. I am currently roaming the wilds of Colorado but where ever I go people always tell me I’m “unique”. I am sure they mean it as a compliment.
Humor, Noir

Fleeting Vision (Spilotro P2)

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Pinpoints of light began to flow across his vision as he struggled to wrap up the summary of how he found himself here. The “here” being dangled outside a window of a predatory loan business in Las Vegas, Nevada. Not to be confused with Las Vegas New Mexico. He thought he should be specific in his summary since there were predatory loan places everywhere and not just Las Vegas Nevada.

He took the pinpoints of light as an indication that his vision would soon be lost to unconsciousness and he should wrap things up quickly before he passed out but the lights came into focus and he recognized the shiny faces of Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson and George Washington flying out of his pockets. Oh well, it’s not like he had a couch to lose them in. He made a mental note to find a couch for his concrete man cave. He needed a place to store loose change.

The name predatory loan office was the ever imaginative Acme Loans. Not surprisingly they don’t advertise themselves as a predatory loan service and the more accurate Loan Shark term is a no-no,

It’s as if it the name sprang from the imagination of a crook who had grown up on Looney Tunes but then Frank reminded himself that he used to be a crook who had been raised on Looney Tunes and put a halt to the judging. He’d best get a move on with this story before consciousness left him.

The good news was that he had found Arnie Spilatro. The bad news was that he had found Arnie Spilatro. Along the way he discovered he had some detective skills. It also helped that Nick The Peep knew of the type of places where Spilatro could be found hanging out. Asking around at some of the bars and casinos that fit his profile, Frank was able to identify Acme Loans as belonging to one Arnie Spilatro.

One other thing he learned about his skills was that his ability to keep things on the down low needed work. Arnie was waiting for him with two friends. They were the two very large friends who were now emptying Franks loose change all over the streets of Vegas.

Nick was afraid that even though he was offering Arnie a job he would not believe the offer coming from someone claiming to be Nick over the phone. This is why he hired Frank to make the offer in person in an attempt to avoid the very situation Frank was in now. It had worked, for Nick. He was not in Frank’s predicament. It was time to plead his case before he lost consciousness and/or was dropped.

“Mr. Spilatro, there is no way I could cause you any harm. These two gueril-uh large gentleman are quite capable of preventing that. Especially since any weapons I could have but did not have on my person would be on the streets of Vegas below.”

The blur that was Arnie Spilatro appeared to shrug his shoulders and muttered “You have a point. Let him up.”

A few minutes later his vision returned and Frank was sitting on a beat-up old couch that had a look that said, “I fell off a truck at 70 miles an hour and I still look better than you.” Frank felt like he’d been thrown off a truck so the couch was getting no argument from him. Coming into focus was Guerrilla #2 offering him a cappuccino. A name totally made up without much imagination but he did look smaller than Guerrilla #1. Frank had a smart remark about the cappuccino and stereotypes but thought better of it.

“Mr Spilatro thanks for listening to me and for not killing me, mostly for the not killing me part. I just came to on behalf of Nick The Peep to offer you employment. I do not know the nature of the job but I have a number to call and he will tell you all about it. Frank pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed him a card. Thankfully, his fat George Castanza-like wallet had not succumbed to the gravity inversion he had been subjected to.

Spilatro told him he was making a call and that he should make himself at home. The kind of home where guests are routinely hung outside the window, thought Frank.

Ten minutes and a cappuccino refill later, Spilatro returned looking happy or a happy as a Vegas mobster could look without having just beat a murder rap.

“Well it looks like your boss and I have come to an agreement so you are free to go.” Frank had a few questions but decided that “thank you” was the safe response and headed back to the airport.

Nick had been happy with the job that Frank had done and wired him his money before he left for airport. Deciding he had earned himself a treat he upgraded his seat to avoid the middle aisle and included a drink voucher.

Upon draining his Scotch he reclined his seat, closed his eyes and put the upside down vision of the Vegas Streets to rest.

Humor, Noir

Spilotro, The Mafia Boss?

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Frank Bronski found himself looking at Las Vegas from a unique perspective.

Despite the blood rushing to his head he was able to read the sign of a predatory loan business all while trying to keep his hat on and imploring the gorillas holding his ankles not to drop him. His storied past had provided plenty of opportunity for him to practice his upside down reading skills. Before he passed out, he thought it might be a good time to summarize how he got here.

No sooner than he accepted the missing person case from Nick the peep, he had had found himself on a late night flight to Vegas.

He had a middle seat assignment but it was a red eye so he had no worries about being able to change seats. He began to worry as the line of people boarding became a meandering stream. It was moving slowly and he thought the end can’t be too far behind. He was wrong. He felt like he was in need of a bathroom and waiting at a train crossing for the caboose on the 5:15 to Chicago. The tension was mounting. He really hated middle seats. He wasn’t claustrophobic but he always felt he could become one in this situation.

A half hour later he was wedged between a very large couple. He thought surely a couple would want to sit next to each other. He observed them exchanging glances that seemed to be less than cordial and perhaps even homicidal and he decided he could handle the center seat just fine.

Before nodding off, he pondered his current situation. It was pretty damn good he thought. Well, maybe just good. Nick the peep, who he thought wanted him dead, was actually going to pay him to find one Arnie Spilotro. Upon hearing the name, Frank freaked out. “Spilotro?” Is he related to the late Tony Spilotro, the mob guy who used to run Vegas before he became the late Tony Spilotro?

“No of course not. At least, not directly, I think.”

“Not directly, you think?”

“I’ve heard he may be a second cousin or something.”

“Or something? I am not feeling too solid about your second cousin assessment.”

“Don’t worry. He didn’t inherit anything from his cousin, or whatever he may be.”

“What do you mean by “anything”?

“I mean business enterprises and such.”

“ I was more worried about temperament. Does he have the Spilatro temper.”

“Well, that seems to be a prejudicial question.”

“ I wasn’t attacking his national origin. I was just pointing out that his “cousin” had been known to have a bad temper.”

“Well, given his situation visa vi the life that he led, some negative emotions were bound to surface.”

Frank couldn’t help but think that Nick sounded like an attorney defending his client in a court of law. It was a decent argument but not enough to create reasonable doubt. The money Nick was paying him got him past that though and he accepted the job. Saving some cash was becoming a higher priority for him. He didn’t plan to keep on living in his concrete man cave forever. The fumes from whatever chemicals that were or may still be stored somewhere in there can’t be healthy but the lack of rent helped him to ignore the fumes for now. Saving some cash would be good. The thought comforted him as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke with a jolt as the plane touched down in Vegas. Clearing the cobwebs from his mind he looked down to discover the his shirt damp from drool. He knew no-one on the plane so he was not embarrassed in the least and maybe it served to keep his two angry bookends from disturbing him. He waited for both to leave together before departing his seat and kept his distance as he exited the plane. Any injuries could hamper his investigation and prevent any potential getaways. He was still worried about the Spilatro name.

Miss the Previous Installment?

Humor

Do All People Dream of Chartreuse Aliens?

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I woke up from a dream the other morning with mixed feelings and the usual afterthoughts. Oh my what happened? Was that real? Was I abducted by aliens? Alien kidnapping is not a common theme in my dreams. My dreams usually involve being trapped on a desert island with a convent of evil nuns. Yes, I wake up screaming. The common response however is that I wake up after a dream thinking the events that occurred were real and afraid of the consequences of whatever actions I took in the dream.

This time the fear gave way to regret.

As I recalled more details, I realized why regret came into the picture. In the dream I was walking along a dark country road. Yes, I can hear your screams. “You wanted to get picked up by aliens. You were just begging for it.” Hey it’s a dream and I didn’t take enough Psych classes to be able to analyze the circumstances. Suddenly, a saucer appeared above me. Sadly it was the stereotypical model of all alien ships reported throughout time, saucer shaped and silver. I do believe some people have reported a cigar shape in their experiences but I’ve had enough Psych classes for that to confuse me. Thank you Sigmund Freud. I thought my creativity was worthy of something more than a saucer but sometimes the conscious goes with whatever is laying around.

Soon I felt weightless as a tractor beam pulled me skyward. If it wasn’t for Start Trek I would have been searching for a better term and quite frankly my imagination just comes up with stupid sounding stuff like invisible beam of anti gravity, which may have been what the concept was called before Star Trek.

Just like that, no fuss no muss, nary a hair out of place (my pajamas even looked pressed). I found myself in a nice comfy seat that looked like every gaming chair I had seen online. That is my only reference since I am not a gamer. I imagine gaming for long stretches of time requires some ergonomic engineering for comfort sake. I am not making fun. I used to be a very avid runner who discovered he needed bandaids on his nipples so I’d be the last to make fun of gaming chairs.

Looking around the command deck, I saw several figures that looked like every alien from every encounter of a strange kind as reported by every alien kidnap victim. There was one slight exception. Their color was unlike any reported by the afore mentioned victims. They were chartreuse. They were not silver or grey and not even a little bit green but chartreuse. I will point out to the reader that I am color blind but during the dream I checked a Pantone chart and their color, as near as I could tell, was definitely chartreuse.

This would not be significant until they revealed their plans to me.

The words “We have plans for you” popped into my head and in case there was any misunderstanding the words also flashed before my eyes like a heads up display. If this continued throughout the conversation, what was left of my sanity would be in peril.

“Excuse me, I understood you just fine without out the words being displayed on my eyeballs. Could you not do that please?

The words “very well” popped into my head but did not appear in my vision.

Since the voice was just happening in my head it was hard to identify which alien was responsible. I thanked them and his or their or whoever’s “voice” continued the plan recitation within my skull.

“We have been observing your kind for an amount of time measured in units a human simply cannot comprehend. It is suffice to say, in your terms, a shitload of time.”

“Ok,”Well what could I say.

“Go On”

“We have observed much strife across your planet and we have determined the causes are not complex and involve very few factors of origin. One of those factors has to do with something as insignificant as appearance, specifically color.”

It was clear they had been studying language patterns from human media.

Thankfully their communication had been devoid of acronyms. One FAFO and I am out of here, I thought.

“Well, you are not wrong there. That does seem to cause a lot of problems.”

“What is really, um…”

There was a pause here as the alien seemed searching for the right word.”

“What is really, um, puzzling, yes that’s it, what is puzzling is that we can discern no other major differentiation besides color. We do notice some barely perceptible differentiations and cultural differences but they should add to the experiences of your lives. The rest of your problems can be attributed to the quirks of being human and those alone should be enough without looking for others.

“So are you asking me for answers? I am not an expert on race relations.”

“Oh our question is opinion based and doesn’t require an expert or a deep philosophic understanding of anything really.”

“Ok, that sounds like right up my alley.”

“Excuse me? I don’t understand that colloquialism.”

“Yea, that word you just dropped, colloquialism is going to play havoc with SOA rules, never mind. That just means that I believe I am fully capable of giving anyone my opinion on absolutely anything and everything. Everyone says so. I think they mean it in a good way.”

“How do you feel about the color chartreuse?”

“Um, I don’t know. To be honest, I am color blind. I see the same colors as non color blind people but I call them different names. Would you happen to have a Pantone guide on you?”

Instantly one appeared before or rather in my eyes.

I spotted chartreuse, looked at the aliens and thought Oh, that’s what color you guys are.“You don’t see it very often but I rather like it.”

“Good, you see we think if we changed the color of all mankind to chartreuse there would be a lot less problems with humanity.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, certainly. We thought about making everyone colorblind but in your species colorblindness doesn’t prevent you from being able to see shade differences. “

“True but there is still the problem of greed.”

“One problem at a time, we’re not gods.”

With that I woke and quickly checked the mirror.

The lack of even a ting of chartreuse validated that indeed it was a dream.

Just as well, I have enough problems color coordinating my clothes.

Alien Encounters

Other posts about aliens

Humor, Noir

Meet Nick The Peep

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Frank went to bed that night but never fell into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the chemical fumes of his bunker that kept him up. He was pretty sure that should have the opposite effect.

The constant worry of his past catching up with him was wearing him down to the point that he had to do something about it. He was going to have to return to Ricks place and have a parlay. He had pulled the one name from his memory that would have a high probability of wanting to see him…. You can end that with a variety of endings, “see him hang”, “see him fitted for concrete shoes”, “see him sleep with the fishes”. At first glance the last two seem the same but there is one big difference. With the shoes there is no swimming and the swimming is really a misnomer as to what dead bodies are capable of unencumbered by the weight of construction materials.

The guy he thought of was Nick The Peep. No-one knew his last name but he was pretty sure it wasn’t “The Peep”. There didn’t appear to anyone who knew how he got that moniker. If there were they may not be in a condition that would allow them to speak. There were rumors of course but all of them involved a certain level of sleaziness. Since the author is addicted to breathing without a straw, he will decline to discuss any of the rumors.

The last time Frank went to Ricks Place, lackeys of Nick the Peep paid him a visit not too long after. The bartender must have a connection. Frank figured that’s where he would go again to set up a meeting. Hopefully the outcome would leave him still being of this earth. He rolled around that last bit a little more. Maybe he should bring some artillery, a small bean shooter. He rolled it around some more and decided that a hardboiled detective would carry a cannon and he did not possess a .45, a .38 or come to think of it anything that delivered lead. There was also a high probability that anything deterred by a gun he carried would be his own life.

Frank turned off the lights of his Saab as he coasted into the lot behind Rick’s Place. He didn’t like being seen driving a Saab. It was a beater and not the kind of car a detective of any variety should be driving but until he could afford something more appropriate it would have to do. The coasting aspect of his driving had more to do with gas conservation than stealth. The Saab and his wallet were both running on fumes.

A Muddy Waters tune was playing on the jukebox when he walked into Nicks. Frank would discover later that Muddy Waters tunes were the only ones on the jukebox. This was fine. Muddy was ok with him.

As soon as the bartender spotted him, he made a phone call. The phone on the wall may be the only coin operated phone in the state thought Frank.

Frank sat at the bar and ordered the only drink he could afford, a bad beer. In a city that served as the home to the American Homebrewers Association, finding such a beer must have taken some work.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before Nick The Peep showed up and saved Frank from having more than a few sips of the swill.

Nick was small in stature, or so everyone had been trained to identify him as such. It had been a while since Frank got a really good look at Nick face. Most of the time his eyes were temporarily blinded by fists. From what he could recall, he was just as ugly as ever. A face made for radio and crafted throughout the years by countless street fights as he worked his way up through the organization.

Nick didn’t not look happy but then again Frank never saw Nick with anything resembling a happy look on his face. He thought Nick could improve his looks by just smiling once in a while.

“How ya doin Frank?”

“I’m above ground so I got that going for me.”

“Yes, about that. Would you like that condition to continue?”

“Is this a trick question? I would be a big fan of that.”

“Well, all you have to do is a little favor for me”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well I hear you are a detective these days. I got word somebody I am looking for is in Vegas and I need them located.”

“Grateful to live at least a few more days Frank replied. “I’m only too glad to help.

Previous Installment “https://thesoundoflaughter.com/huff-puff-pant/

Humor, Political, satire

A Former Heroin Addict, a Guy With Mercury Poisoning and a Worm Walk into Congress

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A Former Heroin Addict, A guy with Mercury poisoning and a dead worm walk into Congress. Worm walking? What? Congress? Isn’t that supposed to be a bar. Sadly no, this is not the start of a joke. It’s one guy and he is a vessel for a dead worm. Now this normally would be a sad story but the reality is even more tragic. This particular mercury ridden addict and dead worm transport is in charge of the agency protecting the health of all Americans.

But wait, there’s more . The man is also an avowed anti-vaxer and has no medical experience. Now I believe people deserve second chances but I think there needs to be better judgement on the type of chances you give them. You don’t put them in a position of massive responsibility affecting hundreds of millions of people. Just like you don’t put an alcoholic in charge of a huge organization with the power to destroy the earth several time over. Oh wait, that’s been done.

This is all brought to you by a reality TV star who say’s he only hires the best people. No wonder comedians have a love hate relationship with this guy. When the reality TV show craze hit and I said that this was going to destroy the country I was being flippant. Now it appears I was being prescient.

Since the COVID pandemic, it seems that we have degraded into a dystopian version of Jr. High School where intelligence challenged and or worm addled bullies who ate paint chips when they were younger pick on the smart kids. In this case though, the bullies are also the principle, the vice-principal, the school counselor, the school nurse and the superintendent of school security. To be honest it’s a male nurse and they got some flack for being too progressive but since he had no medical experience and was an ex junkie they thought that counteracted any progressive accusations. They kept the worm and mercury poisoning to themselves. Any responsible school district would fire the Principal, Vice Principal and the afore mentioned accomplices and banish them to a school district warehouse never to be seen again. But that is not where we are at folks. In our reality we praise these people and fire the folks that are holding the school together, the teachers.

If you have seen the movie Idiocracy you may now be looking at it in a different light. If you haven’t the short take is that a guy of average intelligence is frozen and thaws out in the distant future. Society has become so dumb he is considered a genius and is made president. When it came out one could think it was satiric statement on where our society could be in the distant future. Now it appears to be a warning on where we are now and what will happen if we keep going in this direction.

If this goes on much further we will regress to the point where fire is bad and we will all be in danger of trichinosis. I guess that would make the sushi and gatorade folks ecstatic. If you don’t get the gatorade bit you really need to see Idiocracy.

Humor, Noir

Huff Puff Pant

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It wasn’t long before Frank was huffing, puffing and uttering what sounded like words. Somewhere behind him but not far enough he could still hear “wait I just want to warn you”.

“I’ve got, pant pant, to get, pant pant, into better shape,” gasped Frank.

As shapes go Frank was heading to that of a donut, if the baker forgot the hole and the donut had chain smoked for 20 years before quitting. Somewhere in the middle of panting and moving his legs, albeit slowly, he had a thought that made him suddenly stop.

Perhaps, gasp, my soon, gasp, to be assailant, gasp, will just put me out, gasp, of my misery. Wait, warn me?Even his thoughts had to catch their breath and the “warn me” part arrived at a slower pace. Bent over and gasping for breath, Frank spied an ant going about the business of effortlessly dragging a relatively huge grain of rice. Show off,he thought.

The sound of footsteps were now much closer and Frank rose and turned around to meet his nemesis and then perhaps his maker with the “warn me” phrase still lingering. His vision came in to focus and just a few feet away was Trustafarian Thad, er, Sticks.

“I’m glad I caught up to you Mr. Bronski”

Frank noticed Sticks wasn’t breathing very hard and thought, he is a bit younger and thinner.

He also assumed that Stick’s herb smoking had not reached “chain” status. Frank took a minute or ten and caught up with his breathing.

“Not too tough to do kid, Usain Bolt I am not.”

“Who? Oh that running dude.”

“Yea, that running dude,” gasped Frank.

After catching up to his breath Frank continued.

“What is so important that you had to force me to exercise?”

“Those guys that forced you to relocate were around asking about you.”

“That’s not good.”
“Yea I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks Sticks I appreciate that.”

Sticks stood there patiently and Frank read the situation correctly.”

“Sticks I could use your help digging up any information you can find on the underpass mural. I am finding plenty of information online, all of it sketchy. If I could get some information from anyone you know on the street I might be able to sort through some of it quicker. I would appreciate it.” Franks appreciation came in the form of a twenty, albeit not so crisp, dollar bill. He still had some money left over from his first case. Sticks took the bill, gave a smile, said “Thanks man. I’ll ask around,”and was gone.

Frank decided to wander around for a while to make sure Sticks hadn’t picked up a tail before heading back to the utility bunker. His circuitous route verified that no one was following him and he returned to his humble man cave.

It really hadn’t achieved official man cave status. He was going to have to figure out how to get TV reception in what amounted to a concrete bunker. If he figured that out he would have to see if he could come up with a small battery powered TV. He interpreted “come up with” in as loose and cheep manner as possible. He might know a guy who knew a guy who could find items that had fallen off a truck. At this point he was going to chill and figure out what his next move was but he was slowly coming to the conclusion his past was going to have to be reconciled with and sooner rather than later.

Humor

There is Hope

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Armed with a new theory gifted him by Chief Niwot by way of a dream, Frank had a new found goal of returning to the city of Boulder some of the joy that had left. He hit the public library to do some research both online and using an older more reliable technology called books. He had no problem finding information online but he could only due so much diligence on the source to be sure the information was not dreamed up in a purple haze or whatever color haze was common these days. Not that it mattered. He was colorblind.

He had more trust in books. They never pretended to be interested before asking for money, a different but sad story altogether. He used the internet to see if there was any suspicions that Native American Mythology had anything to do with the Mural. The internet was good for rumors, innuendo and conspiracy theories and the Mural may touch on all three.

He wondered if the animals resident in the mural were like the shadow and thus temporarily inhabitants. If they were, he had no clue as to how he could move them off the artful wall. He returned to the underpass and took a brief survey of what animals were and were not on the wall. It gave him comfort to know that the mural contained a population that was no where near that of Noah’s Ark. Thinking about that made him realize that the wall was lacking a hummingbird. If that realization had hit him a few days ago it wouldn’t have landed with much impact. The Chief Niwot dream had taught him that many Native American Tribes associated hummingbirds with joy, luck, love, and even resurrection or renewal.

He hoped that the lack of hummingbird in the mural indicated that joy and love had not totally left Boulder, yet. He thought about making it a habit to check the mural daily for the existence of a hummingbird but decided against the idea for now. He reasoned that if it did appear it may deal a death blow to his attitude. For now he was going with the belief there was still love, joy, luck and the hope of renewal. He needed hope.

“Hey, I need to talk to you!” echoed from behind him.

The body parts of Frank that could clench did so for a brief second, realized it wasn’t helping , then released and he took off running.

The words “Hey, I need to talk to you” yelled by a man was always an indication that he should not stick around. Come to think of it, those words uttered by a woman was also a good reason not to linger. His legs were ahead of his thoughts fortunately and his feet weren’t failing either.
Hope was temporarily put on hold.

Humor, Noir

Boulder Noir: Native Dream

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Frank woke up in his latest “flop house,” the small equipment bunker near the mural festooned underpass, and promptly banged his head on what he hoped was a water pipe. If it was gas, his willpower to continue his smoking abstinence would get a bit stronger. He needed to wrap some towels around that pipe to prevent morning headaches, those not inflicted by alcohol.

It was a bit cramped but thankfully it no longer housed any equipment. He had “procured” a pillow and some other bedding material from a previous stay at one of cities fine cheap hotels. He had also obtained a battery powered lamp from a surplus store. He was not afraid of the dark, contrary to any rumors that former paramours may have spread. He just valued light.

This was the first morning he woke up in this concrete hotel and would continue to add some items to make this man cave a bit more homey. Maybe even a battery powered TV but first he needed quite a few more “stickups”. They were overmatched by the odor of a collection of various things he hoped were non toxic. Some people in the same situation would be in deep despair as to where his life had gone. Frank Bronski was not one of those, he was not built to feel sorry for himself. He had a place rent free and off the radar of people looking for him, at least until someone decided they could rent the place out.

It was a surprisingly quiet night and he slept deeply until the early morning when he woke up after a series of vivid dreams. Strangely they all maintained the same theme not unlike the concept albums of the 70’s. Google it or DuckDuckGo it or use whatever search engine you like. It used to be a thing. The theme as far as he pieced it together appeared to be American Indian folklore. Frank was not an expert but any resident of Boulder is familiar with some of it.

Chief Niwot had appeared in his first dream and was his tour guide for the remainder of the dream. The Chief had introduced some characters that were current inhabitants of the overpass mural. All were animals and represented qualities in Native American Folklore.

An eagle appeared and the Chief pointed out it was revered by Native American cultures as a sacred creature embodying courage, vision, and spiritual insight.

Following the eagle a snake made an entrance and the Chief continued his narration . “The snake’s ability to shed its skin is a metaphor for renewal and transformation and used in spiritual and healing practices in many cultures”.

Next up in the animal parade were Owls and Crows and the Chief explained that birds often serve to foretell change. In a quiet but powerful voice the Chief stated that , “Owls are associated with wisdom and knowledge. Some people think crows are omens of death but in the Native American culture it is just the opposite, seeing a crow is considered good luck by many tribes.”

The last creature Frank recalled was a frog who hopped onto the scene with a he casual but cool demeanor that reminded him of young Christopher Walken complete with a kind but mischievous smile and a hint of danger.

Franks thoughts were interrupted by the Chief’s voice. For a brief second he had been so enraptured by the frog he had forgotten about Chief Niwot.“Frogs are considered medicine animals by some tribes and have healing powers and the ability to bring rain. In some tribes, frogs represent transformation and growth. In other tribes they are associated with springtime and renewal. To some cultures, the Frog is a mythological character who killed their Creator with witchcraft. Among the tribes of Panama the rare golden frog is associated with fertility, wealth, and a happy afterlife.”

“Which one do we have here,” asked Frank nodding towards the Frog who appeared deep in concentration although Frank could swear he was snoring.

“Only time will tell,” replied the Chief as he faded away and Frank woke up.

Frank had the sense there was more to the dream or at least should be since it didn’t cover all of the characters on the mural. He was hoping that something would nudge his memory towards recalling more. In the absence of more details he could hope the dream was the first in a series of installments to be visited upon him. If all else fails there was the internet. He was sure he could find good information eventually. It would just take time to sort through the pretenders and he hoped that curious locals added theories frequently.

Note: I found the information on Native American Indian folklore from Frank’s dream on Native Languages of the Americas website.

family, Political

Representing Casimir

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It is appropriate that as I participate in the March fourth FiftyFiftyOne protest surrounded by American and Ukrainian Flags, I receive a text from my Mom telling me that today is a day celebrating the feast of St Casimir.

I grew up in a Polish Neighborhood in Chicago where dawn was greeting by the raising of American Flags and dusk saw them lowered. This occurred every day, weather permitting. Polish was a common language in my neighborhood. It was spoken among my Grandparents, many other relatives and neighbors. Some speakers had come over from Poland and some were born here but all were proud Americans and saw no need to forget the language or traditions of Poland. I am thankful for that. I grew up in a house owned by my Grandparents and surrounded by Polish traditions and the occasional Polish conversation among older relatives. It was an idyllic upbringing.

My Grandfather and Father shared the same first name of Casimir. The name may sound strange to WASPy white bread America but Casimir is a fairly common Polish name1 and there are many guys with that name in Chicago, Detroit, Buffalo…anywhere they make their own Polish Sausage and there is a bowling alley for every 50 Poles.

My Father did not bow before any man and when he saw a wrong he spoke up. When the NRA called the FBI “jack booted thugs” after WACO, my Father gave up his lifetime membership. When the Moose Lodge refused admittance to black members of his party, he renounced that membership. My father didn’t suffer fools lightly.

On a day when I am protesting the destructive and un-american policies of the current US Administration and their demonization of immigrants, minorities and basically anyone not a billionaire, it is appropriate that the protest falls on the Feast of St Casimir. My Father is in my heart and in my voice as I shout to the heavens.

Note: The Polish Eagle is displayed on its official crest. Interesting that we have the Eagle in common.

Note: The “Don’t Tread on Me” flag, also known as the Gadsden flag, was designed during the American Revolution by Christopher Gadsden as a symbol of American unity and resistance against oppression. We need American unity again.

More On Casimir Pulaski:

https://www.battlefields.org/learn/biographies/casimir-pulaski

More on my

Dad:

https://thesoundoflaughter.com/?s=Finite+Memories: Representing Casimir

Humor, Political, satire

Gee Elon, What Could Go Wrong?

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Elon Musk wants to be Trumps efficiency expert.

That’s scary. I can foresee quite a few scenarios inspired by his takeover of another entity he didn’t start, Twitter (Yes I still call it that) and they involved seemingly random staff cuts. He would discover he needed some of them and had to try to get them back. That example doesn’t leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling . Remember Self driving cars and underground tube transport systems. You can bet he want’s to get rid of all Auto Safety standards and anything that doesn’t allow his self driving cars to become a menace on the roads. Yes, no warm fuzzies what-so-ever.

The following dialogue is from a purely fictitious conversation that I imagine could be possible. I shouldn’t have to mention this but this is a parody. Maybe someday the voices in my head can talk to the voices in Elon’s head and straighten out any confusion. I hear he’s working on a brain chip for that.

Key: U = Unknown person soon to be kicked out of Elon’s inner circle.

Note: It is not believed that Elon has an outer circle. I am giving him the benefit of doubt that he as an inner one. Or at least an inner dialogue of various voices.

U – “Mr Musk, what is your first idea when it comes to streamlining the goverment?”

Elon “Well, do we really need a separate ambassador for individual Asian countries. Why can’t we just have one I for the whole continent I mean aren’t they all the same?

U- “ Sir, you do realize that China, Russia and India are just a few of the countries that are part of the Asian Continent and that Asia makes up 60% of the worlds population. It’s home to about 4.46 billion people speaking about 2,300 languages.”

“I can read a map as it’s currently laid out, for now. I still stick by my statement that they are all the same.”

U – “So you are suggesting that one person serve as liaison to the entire continent when two of those countries represent the biggest threats to the U.S. and world peace?

“Hmm, That seems like a problem that I like to categorize as someone else’s. It’s all going to be a moot point when Donald invites China and Russia to divide us up for whatever spoils he can negotiate. He is a master negotiator you know.”

U- “Yes, I’ve heard that claim often, mostly from him.

Did you ever notice that his only goal when negotiating is to not look stupid?”

“He never looks stupid.”

U- “No, not until the aftermath sets in and he’s not around or not held accountable for it. If that does happen he is very practiced in the crude and ancient art of finger pointing. It’s his best defense mechanism. “

“That may be true. I heard he may call it blame-it-su and trademark it. Which I think is brilliant.”

U- “I’m not sure about your Diplomat reduction idea. What other ideas do you have?”

“I have a great way to streamline Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.”

U- “Interesting, Do you have any idea what the basic living and medical costs are for a retired or disabled person?”

“No but it can’t be as much as mine. I mean yes I am a billionaire but it costs more for a genius to live these days.”

U – “Interesting and perhaps ironic.”

“How’s that?”

U – “Well Nicolai Tesla is considered a real genius and he ended up living on soda crackers and the kindness of others.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t a billionaire was he.”

U “No. What’s your point”

“I can’t rely on the kindness of strangers.”

U- “No argument here.”

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