Man Martin's Blog, page 116

Answered!

Dear Mortal:

I bring you greetings from The Lord God High Almighty.

The Lord Almighty has instructed me to write you this letter of thanks for your very interesting "prayers," which you made over the last several decades or so.  She apologizes for Her slowness in responding more explicitly to these but expresses great admiration for the clearness of your speaking voice and your persistence.

A common theme in your prayers is recovery from sickness for yourself and others.  As I'm sure you appreciate, illness is an indispensable part of God's creation, as are suffering and death.  In fact, it was Her hope that the inevitability of misfortune and pain would teach mankind compassion and maybe a soupcon of humility.  Therefore, regretfully, even those prayers for recovery which have been granted, have only been done so provisionally, and with the understanding that good health and life are never more than temporary possessions.

Another frequent topic concerns winning some honor or achieving some personal or professional ambition.  If you take time to examine these prayers, you will note they all have to do with status within the human community.  The Lord Almighty wishes you to understand She never interferes in these matters except in very unusual circumstances.  Owing to the nature of society as humans have constructed it, personal achievement is almost always zero-sum; that is, one person's gain is another's loss.  If you win a promotion at work, that means someone else did not - if you win a medal in a foot-race, thousands of others did not.  The Lord Almighty cannot be held responsible for this peculiar system of yours, but the fact remains that when you pray earnestly for some advancement or preference over a fellow human being, that human is praying just as earnestly for advancement over you.  You can appreciate what a difficult position this puts Her in.

Yet a third category of prayer concerns weather.  The Lord Almighty is pleased to point out She has given you all the weather you could ever hope for, and then some!  In spite of this bounty, you have sometimes expressed disappointment or frustration.  The Lord Almighty is sorry for this and believes a simple adjustment to your prayer schedule will make matters more satisfactory all the way around.  For example, if you pray for warm days in Summer and cool ones in Winter, instead of the other way around, your prayers will be much more efficacious.  Also, we have noticed you specifically pray for rain when it is dry and for dryness when it is raining.  This is like a cat who wants to go out when she's in, and in when she's out.  The Lord God wishes you'd make up your mind.

Finally, there are about 10,000 prayers thanking God for its being Friday.

You're welcome.

Sincerely,

Astrophel
Archangel in Charge of Public Relations

How Terrible Time is to an Artist

Unicellular organisms appeared on earth.  That was last September.  Not much else happened until around the end of June, when all of a sudden the oceans were just teeming with trilobites and other arthropods.  Near the middle of July, animals appeared on land for the first time.  Centipedes, mostly, with a few arachnids thrown in for variety.  The first week of August there were actual amphibians and reptiles on land, some as big as eight inches long.  A couple of weeks later and there were dinosaurs like the diplodocus which could be a hundred feet long.  The diplodocus, though, only hung around from about 7:00 to 8:00 AM on August 20.  On Labor Day the Tyrannosaurus appeared, and it seemed like a really big deal, but it hung in even less time than the diplodocus, about twenty-five minutes.  Last Tuesday you probably noticed all those mammals that were suddenly everywhere.  That was the paleogene period.  Sometime late Thursday night, there were primates.  Just before I woke up this morning, there were humans.  A minute ago, someone painted some bison and what-not on a cave in France.  Six seconds ago Homer wrote the Odyssey.

We say Homer is one of the immortals.

Barn Cat

In our gradual transmogrification into Ma and Pa Clampett, Nancy and I have acquired our very own barn cat.

Here's the concept: this a feral cat that otherwise would have be euthanized.  She has been spayed, given her shots, and given to us to care for.  Nancy says she just paid $200 for a "free cat."  I don't know how much of the $200 represents the cat itself, and how much is cat accouterments.  As I write this, the cat is asleep in our utility room.  We have to keep her there several weeks until she gets used to the joint, at which time we'll "release" her.  Hopefully, by then she'll consider this her home and stick around.

She is not a pet.  She won't come inside.  We won't pet her.  We won't roll balls of yarn across the floor for her to chase and tangle up in adorably like on the 12 Months of Adorable Kitten Calendar.  We will provide her food, healthcare, a warm place to sleep, and in return, she will hunt mice, voles, and chipmunks for us.  Basically, she's a hired killer.

Zoe does not yet suspect we have a cat in the house.  In the fullness of time, we shall have to introduce them and get Zoe used to the idea.  Bad news for Zoe, she will have to share the yard with chickens and a cat.  Good news, Zoe will still be the only animal allowed inside.

Last night, Nancy and I peered through the utility room window at our newest resident.  She is very pretty.  She was awake, but resting on the pallet Nancy had made for her.  Her food bowl was empty, showing she has a good appetite.
I wanted to go in and pet her, but Nancy reminded me it's not that kind of cat.  Nevertheless, it did my heart good to see her there.

A Hen Speaks of Journeys

I've been on this planet over a year now.  I've seen summer and winter and summer again.  I've pecked a lot of dirt, I've laid a lot of eggs.  It hasn't always been an easy life, but I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  I've lived life by my own rules and never asked permission or sought advice.  Don't look back, is my motto.  Sure, I've made my share of mistakes, but they're all part of who I am.

I guess I've seen pretty much everything there is to see.  I've been all the way to the fence on the left side, and all the way to the fence on the right side.  I've seen the front side and back side of the fence, too.  I've done it all.  Other chickens might say, "What are you thinking?  Why can't you just stay in the coop?  What's so great out there that you have to go gallivanting from one end of the fence to the other?"  It's just the gypsy-chicken blood in my veins, I suppose.  I think to myself, "I'm tired of pecking the ground in the same old spot.  I think I'll go peck the ground in that spot over there."  And I'm off again.  It's just go, go, go with me.

I've stood on the woodpile and looked through the fence as far as the eye can see.  Beyond our fenced-in area of grass and straw is another area of grass and straw.  Craning my neck, if it's a clear day, I can see the edge of another fence!  Think of that!  And beyond that, there's maybe even more grass and straw and another fence!  The mind reels.  It makes you realize how tiny you are in the big scheme of things.

Someday, maybe I'll just settle down and stick to the coop, but not just yet.  Today I may go all the way to the left side of the fence or go to the top of the woodpile again.  The woodpile is beautiful in the afternoon.  It's a great big world out there, and you have to grab every fleeting moment. 

I'm a lucky hen.

Know Your Animal Friends

Well, I like you.Your dog is definitely your friend.  I mean, just look at her.  She'd do anything for you.

The chickens are not exactly your friends, but they're definitely on a first-name basis.

The neighbor's dog is also your friend.

Squirrels are not your friends.  The most they can say is they don't mind you.  They are not your enemies either.  Even though they'll take a nearly-ripe tomato off the vine eat one bite and leave the rest to rot, they aren't doing it out of dislike.  It's nothing personal.  Just squirrel business as far as they're concerned.

Birds aren't your friends, either.  Sorry, chucko.  I know you leave out hummingbird feeders and cages of suet for them, and they're happy to come and snack on it, but frankly, they're just using you.  They don't even know who's leaving food for them.  They don't know anyone is leaving food for them.  They just know there's food.

Possums, foxes, and raccoons are definitely not your friends.  Again, they don't dislike you so long as you leave them alone, but they are not your friends.

Mosquitoes are not your friends.

Ladybugs, butterflies, bumblebees, and cicadas are not your friends either.  I know you like them, but they couldn't possibly care less about you.  Seriously.

Roaches, silverfish, and ants are not your friends, but you already knew that.  If there are any of these in your house, they have precisely the same relationship to you as the gorgeous red cardinal that comes to feed at your suet cage.  As far as they know, your house is just a handy place to get a free meal.

Bacteria is not your friend.  I know some of it is helpful, like the stuff in your gut.  (When did scientists start calling it a gut?)  But they are not your friend.  The same goes for the bacteria that isn't helpful, that's actively trying to kill you.  The good bacteria and the bad bacteria regard you exactly the same way as cardinals and cockroaches - you're a place to grab a quick meal.  In fact, that pretty much goes for all the animals of your acquaintance: you are interesting to them only insofar as you help them get something to eat or prevent them from getting something to eat.  Other than that, you never even cross their minds.

But the dog is still your friend.

Why I am Needed

Sometimes I'm barely out of the store with stuff
before I break it and have to buy more.First off, there's the economy.  What is the economy, you ask, how does it work, and what is your place in it?  Basically, the economy works because some people make stuff and sell it to other people who need stuff.  The reason these other people need stuff in the first place is because they used up or broke the stuff they already had.

That's where I come in.

I am pretty much a master when it comes to using up and/or breaking stuff.  "Where's the ice cream?" Nancy asks.  "I ate it all," I reply.  "But we just got it," Nancy says, and goes to the store to buy more.  When it gets home, I use that up, too.  And American Economic Might grinds forward another day.  And when it comes to breaking stuff, forget about it.  Many times I've barely left the store with stuff before I've broken it and have to go back for another.

Then there's fashion.  What is fashion?  Fashion is a way for some people to look stylish compared to other people.  There is simply no way for everyone to be stylish.  There must be a baseline of non-stylishness as a basis of comparison.  Again, enter Yours Truly.  I am the person beside whom anyone will look more stylish.

And lastly, there's the arts.  "The arts" is a broad category that includes everything from Adorable Kitten Videos on Facebook to Adorable Baby Goats on Facebook.  I am a patron of all that stuff - why, my viewership alone probably accounts for the wild success of an Adorable Hamster Eating a Miniature Burrito on Facebook.  But it's not enough to be a patron of the arts, oh no.  One must be an artist oneself.  But what kind of artist is most needed?  Do we need another Robert Rauschenberg cluttering up gallery walls with collages?  Come Charles Wright creating one damn poem chock-full of buzz saws and fish and moonlight and scraps of cloth?  Another dang New York Times bestselling author?

No.

What is really needed is an unselfish crafts-person who will labor unceasingly at projects that will never see the light of day, thus leaving room in the American psyche for more pressing work, such as the next Adorable Donkey who Sings Along to the Violin Video.  Again, don't bother to thank me, but I've stepped in to fill the need.  I have an unpublished novel with an editor right this moment, who's promised to look at it "the very next thing."  He's had it since June.  Meanwhile, I'm knee-deep working on another novel, which I should probably just re-title, "Honestly, I Don't Even Know Why I Bother."

Don't ever tell me I'm not needed.

Out-Takes of Children's Classics

A lost chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, deemed too wild, subversive and insufficiently moral for the tender minds of British children almost 50 years ago, has been published ..in Saturday's Guardian Review.  Timmy Troutbeck and "a rather bumptious little boy called Wilbur Rice", backed by their vile parents, shout abuse at Willy Wonka's warnings, scramble into the wagons, and are carried off through a hole in the wall. "That hole," said Mr Wonka, "leads directly to what we call the Pounding and Cutting Room. In there the rough fudge gets tipped out of the wagons into the mouth of a huge machine. The machine then pounds it against the floor until it is all nice and smooth and thin. After that, a whole lot of knives come down and go chop chop chop, cutting it up into neat little squares, ready for the shops." - Maev Kennedy, The GuardianA deleted scene from Go, Dog, Go! by PD Eastman shows several dogs awaiting euthanasia.  "A green dog in a blue cage.  A blue dog in a green cage.  Die, dog, die."  In Eastman's personal papers a note was found saying, "I don't know what I was thinking.  I must've been crazy."The classic Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown illustrated by Clement Hurd originally had an additional page between "Goodnight nobody" and "Goodnight mush" which simply read, "For God's sake, just go to sleep already!"  The page was not included in the published version for being too "harsh."In Where the Wild Things Are, Max, who arrives on the island of Wild Things wearing only his pajamas and who is much smaller than the native fauna is torn to pieces and eaten before author Maurice Sendak bowed to pressure to be "more commercial."In the first draft of The Cat in the Hat, rather than cleaning up the house with a magical machine, the Cat and the children lie in wait for Mother's return, then ambush her, and throw her corpse in the basement.  The publisher rejected the manuscript and Dr. Seuss rewrote the ending.Curious George was shot by animal control officers as a public menace, and the Man in the Yellow Hat paid a hefty fine for endangerment and animal cruelty.  This episode was later dropped.

Rough Drafts of the Doxology

This whole humility and self-sacrifice thing
could be big, Big, BIG!The concluding line "For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever," seems to have been added to the Lord's Prayer by first-century Christians, presumably unsatisfied with the original ending.

This new prayer of yours, Jesus, we love it.

Really dude, we all just love it.  We mean that sincerely.

Like the part where it says, "Thy will be done."  That's genius, buddy.  A prayer for God to do exactly what He intends to do anyway.  Man, that'd be sucking up, only it's just, so, I don't know, humble.  And then the part where it says, "forgive us our trespasses... as we forgive those who trespass against us."  Bam!  That line is just killer.  Really, I mean that sincerely.  I showed that to Magdalene, you know, the chick who does the foot rubs, and she got tears in her eyes.  Tears.  I mean that sincerely.  

We all agree sincerely you just nailed it.  I mean this prayer of yours says everything that needs to be said.  If a guy could have only one prayer to use his whole life, this would be it.  I guess that's why they call you the Son of God.  Am I right, or am I right?

But.

This is not a criticism, I mean, sincerely, this prayer is perfect just the way it is.  But.  The last part.  "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."  You see where some people might get the idea that's kind of a downer?  I mean, not me, I think it's great just the way it is.  But the last word of a prayer written by God-Freaking-Incarnate Himself is "evil."  That just sort of, I don't know, it's kind of a let-down.  You're staying on message throughout the prayer, and then, thud.  It's like the last word is about the competition.  It sort of tarnishes the brand, you know?

Not me, not me, like I said I LOVE this prayer.  I mean that sincerely.  El-oh-vee-ee, love it.  But some people are going to get the wrong idea if the last word is "evil."  That's all we're saying.

So we were thinking of adding just a little bit.  We wouldn't change anything in the prayer, just put a little tagline at the end, to kind of round it out, you know?

Like, for example, how about if it went: "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name" - etcetera, etcetera, etcetera - until you got to the part, "and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Offer excludes tax, tag, title, registration, and dealer fees."

Better, huh?  Pretty snazzy.  Oh, you don't like that one.  How about this:

"Our Father, who art in heaven" - yadda, yadda, yadda - "not into temptation but deliver us from evil.  Subject to terms and conditions, not available in all areas, void where prohibited by law."

Not easy to please, are ya?  Okay, try this one on for size, "Our" blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, "deliver us from evil.  Past performance does not reflect future results, this does not constitute an offer to sell, if you have an erection lasting more than six hours, consult your physician."

Still no good, huh?  Well, don't worry, leave it to the boys in PR to come up with something.  Like I said, we all just love this new prayer of yours, sincerely, we mean that.  It goes without saying it's perfect in every way.

We just feel it could be a little bit better.

Someone Help Me, Please

I must've oversleptI don't know what happened.

Last night I went to bed and everything seemed perfectly normal.  When I woke up, I was like this.

When I went to sleep last night, my daughters were little girls.  The younger one was just learning to ride a two-wheeler, and the older was mastering long division.  Now they are grown: one married, and one engaged.  Moreover, my face and body have transmorgified horrifically.  I went to bed as a twenty-seven or possibly thirty-three years-old.  Now, looking in the mirror, if I didn't know better, I'd swear I was fifty-five.

When I turned out the lights, Reagan or possibly Bush the Elder was president.  I was very optimistic about the future; we had won the Cold War, and there'd been a little fracas in the Middle East or Afghanistan somewhere, but we'd gone in and kicked tail, and we knew we wouldn't have anymore trouble of out them ever again.

When I went to sleep, the one thing you could count on was that real estate would go up in value.

When I went to sleep, I didn't have liver spots on my hands.

I woke up this morning, and all my favorite songs had moved from the Top 40 station to the Oldies radio station.

I went to sleep having spent hours transferring all my old LPs and cassette tapes to CDs.  Now I can't find my CDs.

When I went to sleep, my parents-in-law were in wonderful shape and doing fine and were generally fun to be around.  Now a caregiver goes to their house each day, but that is not enough, and Nancy and her sister must go down to help out, often for days and weeks at a time.  They are old and in chronic pain.  My father-in-law can barely stand straight and my mother-in-law has Alzheimer's.

I wonder what they were like before they went to sleep last night.  

Yoda Explains How to Play Monopoly

A token each player must select, and on the Go Space, they must place it.  A Top Hat, a Race Car, a Battleship, or a Thimble a player can be.  Even a Cat a player can be.  A Flat-iron, a player may not be.  No more is the Flat-iron.  Miss it, do not.  Attachment leads to jealousy.  The shadow of greed, that is.

A Banker one player will be. Give  $1,500 to each player the banker will.  Collect $200 when you pass Go, you will.  If on an un-owned property a player lands, buy it, he may.  If on an owned property lands a player, rent the owner must demand, not collect rent he will if fails to do so he does.  (Jesus, hard it is, talking this way.)

If all properties of one color a player owns, houses he may build.  After a the fifth house, a hotel he may build.  Sucks this does for a player who not many properties has.  Especially if on Park Place and Boardwalk hotels there are.  Ha-ha, a loser you are.  Sometimes a relief it is the Dark Side of the Force to join and to jail to go, is it not?  At least rent in jail pay you do not.

When bankrupt a player goes, removed his piece is from the board.  A temper tantrum throw do not, but over it get.  Such a baby do not be.