Posted by
LadyLiberty on Tuesday, April 22, 2008 8:46:44 PM
Episode 38: The Congenital Blessing, the Midnight Bell
(Constructing drag noose snares)
John: (muttering to himself) "Make a pond with a tree by it. A frog jumps out of the pond, hops 'round the tree, then dives back into the pond."
Timeus: Name your knot.
John: Bowline.
Timeus: Where'd you learn the mnemonic for it?
John: Derb's
website when he was making his family tree house. That's the one he learned as a kid. You should check out his tree house. Way cool.
Timeus: His source?
Curtis: What are you smokin' over there?
John: Just stick to your wood chopping, Chad lad.
Curtis: Tutor Timeus! John isn't sharing, the American Way. I want to learn the frog chant and how to make knots too.
John: Ok, let's start by untying the knots on your head. (Takes the wire and starts to wrap it around Curtis' head.)
"Frog dives out of the pond, hops other way 'round the tree, jumps back into the pond,...
Curtis: Pilgrim abuse, Tutor Timeus!
John: ...pond drained of scum and mush, tree felled". One less knot and a mushless skull. There may be hope for you yet.
Curtis: Tutor Timeus, if a tree falls in this forest, could I give this thug a hearing before the High and Mighty Tree Huggers Association and maybe get him put away for life?
Timeus: Uh, in today's political climate change, probably yes.
Alexander: Hey, dog, you shoulda remembered your
Army Field Manual has the bowline knot for a drag noose snare.
Curtis: Who you callin' dog? My people were
Tuskegee Airmen. Great Granddad was a Red Tail Angel who kicked Nazi butt with his P51-C Mustang, dude.
Alexander: Aw, don't ride on his parachute.
Curtis: Apropros, bro.
Alexander: Uh, huh. Gonna join up with the
Deuce Four any moment. We can only hope.
Curtis: Thanks for the props, but I beg to differ on your hopeful point. I propose, contrariwise, in keeping with the
Great Predestinator, to move beyond hope, which I'm sorry to report is not that far removed from fate. It's fate with a smiley face, hope is. And we know what the
smiley face brought us all last century.
No, my proposition is something tried and true, yet revolutionary--where hopeful reactionaries fear to tread: free will from God's gift, mine own true mind. Free will and self-reliance. In that portion of the clause, I agree whole-heartedly with brave Michael Yon and our fighting men. That is Man's burdensome mediation between Predestination and mindless Fate. One in keeping with the Way.
God throws out, not his dice, but the way things behave according to their natures--including Man's mind which reflects on that truth, or lies and deceives.
Raina: I need some wood here. Water purification project. Hellllloooooo.
Curtis: I'm chopping as fast as I can, woman. No. Hold on. He's chopping. Here you go, slugger. (hands the axe to John)
John: Did I axe you for that? Thanks, but no. I've gotta snare me some hare.
Curtis: Yeah, good point, on the top of your head. And you could use some, btw.
Raina: (joining in) So, Tutor Timeus: Who should history reward more? Curtis' Tuskegee Airmen who helped integrate the armed forces and brought down 251 enemy aircraft, or my ancestor, Pappy Boyington and his Black Sheep Squadron?
Timeus: Red Tail or Black Sheep? Nice switcheroo, you two. It's all good, pilgrims. You start fraying those threads and the whole fabric will ravel. Your ancestors sacrificed for the good of the whole. They met the challenge and then some, so it would be easier for you to be judged by your
character, not your color.
They were not multicultists progressively dividing the race bait for the suckers. They got experience through discipline at a high cost, so you wouldn't be afraid to go out and get yours the right way. They knew the American dream was for them too, and they weren't afraid to live it.
From our Founders' revelation of liberty's congenital blessing to their descendents' realization by sweat equity. It is to the Human race that God's eternal torch is passed. That's quite a legacy for you to keep.
Raina: But a little competition to be the best won't hurt us.
Curtis: No, just don't tear me down while you build yourself up.
Curtis: Uh, well, lemme knock here. (raps on her head) Doesn't sound like a voting bloc to me, but it does sound a little airy in there. Be careful. If you don't become a helium-headed politico, you might just fall for one.
Curtis: Here comes Uncle, let's ask him.
Tom: Hey, brainless, there's no donkey's rears around here, so no
Uncle Toms. You better study on your unrevised history, boy. The Uncle Toms partied Democrat, but parted Republican ways.
Say, you aren't dyslexic, are you? One of those dyslexic Democrats always reversing the present and
revising the past?
Curtis: Who you callin' slysdexic?
Tom: Case in point. (raps on his head)
Curtis: I know it's gorgeous, but would you people please leave my head alone?
Tom: Yes. Our congenital blessing was to leave such narrow-minds in the dust bin of history, choosing liberty for all, not
slavery for the other.
Curtis: Ok, then. Just giving you a head fake. Love me; don't leave me. Like you, I am
the other. So does she look like a politician for our times? A sheeple, not a Black Sheep?
Tom: Raina? Ah. Wrong question. The eye preceded the ear and mind, so I learned better than to judge by appearances. But I know her by her acts.
Curtis: (Taking up his own, threateningly) You don't say?
Tom: That's not yours to grind, Romeo. Hers derive from that same instruction manual you have inconveniently misplaced...however briefly. Her acts run in keeping with the warrior tradition, but they do not stop at the tribal edge, where clan and the Klan so quickly fossilize.
She leaps across time's chasm, that eternal torch in hand--all covetous grandstanders to the feeble reach with an envious ewe and cry...
Pilgrims all: Eeeeyewww!!!
Curtis: The pathetic punster!
Tom: ...plants both feet on holy ground and takes up with the proverbial stranger where weaker Man leaves off.
So no. She is not a politician for our times. But she may be a statesman for all time.
Timeus: Will brief time tell its timeless tale? (calling to Benjamin) Dune Schoolie!!! Are the squirrel poles ready?
Benjamin: (calling back) Yeah. We're just waitin' on the squirrels.
(Later 'round the fire in the teepee)
Younger Pilgrims: (singing) Italians hate Yugoslavs, South Africans hate the Dutch, and I don't like anybody very much!
Lily: Uh huh. Well, that wasn't quite the music I had in mind. Let's try poetry. On the square, my
Will in hand:
When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
Pilgrims all: Ouch!!!
Lily: And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
Timeus: When blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Pilgrims all: Tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
John: Did you say John?
Pilgrims all: No, we did not!
Lily: Well done. Now, when we've passed the lonely soul of autumn and the staring owl Tu-who...
John: Our Tu? Or Tu Fu?
Lily: (punching keys then talking into her cell) Tu? Is it you?
Tu: (speaking into his cellphone) Yes. Hello. And my best back at you.
Lily: (sneezes) Atchooo! (holding out her cellphone for all to hear) 'Scuse me. To you!!
Pilgrims all: You too!
Tu: (from his cell) Cold on your mountain, friends?
Lily: (into the cell) What with winter snapping his hard bite about spring's bitterness, tired old wind bag in his sunny getup...
Pilgrims: It's cold!!! Hypo-critical!
Tu: (from his cell)
Here. I send you Zhang Ji's warming torch from fisher of men. Midnight bell for me and thee!