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The Cupiditas

27 Tuesday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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America, Cupiditas, Democracy, Dictatorship, empathy, fiction, governance, greed, history, leadership, life, myth, politics, power, treachery, truth, USA, Veritas, writing

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{Translator’s Note}: As has probably been obvious to the reader, translation into English from the legends of the Veritas is a non-trivial task; not only is the language different; so are the times, technology, and culture. Nonetheless, these difficulties pale compared with the next translation which mainly involves a different tribe, known to the Veritas as “The Cupiditas.” In what follows, I rely on several sources of scholarship as well as what the Veritas had to say about The Cupiditas. Where the difficulties become nearly unsurmountable, however, are those fragments of oral history passed along by The Cupiditas themselves. I won’t bother to recount all the difficulties, because doing so seems too much like whining. After all, I am well fed, living in a house with central air conditioning and heating and able to avail myself of modern technology. I do want to let, you, the reader, know how dubious these translations are however, not to gain your sympathy, but to alert you to numerous possible inaccuracies. 

First, the Veritas valued truth extremely highly and had developed numerous strategies to preserve the accuracy of their oral history. By contrast, the Cupiditas, as you will soon see, valued power, not truth. As a consequence, every time there was a regime change, those in power revised, re-interpreted, and redacted, insofar as possible, the oral history of the Cupiditas to make out “their side” to be the “good guys” and the powers most recently deposed to be the “bad guys.” 

Second, the difficulty in translating the myths of the Veritas often consists of finding expressions subtle enough in English to handle the many shades of gray that the Veritas routinely used in such matters as “causality” and “responsibility.” Native English speakers, for instance, see nothing problematic in statements such as: “Mary was sad and it was John’s fault.” Is this sadness temporary, permanent? Is it constant, cyclical? Is it really plausible that Mary’s sadness has zero to do with anything other than John? And, what does it mean to say it was John’s ‘fault’ exactly and solely? I may write such a sentence so that English speakers understand it given the current level of sophistication of our culture. The actual Veritas descriptions, however, are always much more nuanced. Causality is always characterized among the Veritas as a web of interconnections and never as a linear set of linkages.

 

 

 

 

 

By contrast, there are very few subtleties in the language of the Cupiditas. They seldom attempt to use what we would call persuasion. People are arranged in a strict power hierarchy and whenever a person higher in this hierarchy states something as fact it is supposed to be obeyed, retold, and believed regardless of how absurd or wantonly cruel it might be. If, a few years later, violence leads to a repositioning of the power hierarchy, what was “true” before is now often “false” and now people were expected to obey, retell, and believe even the precise opposite of what they passionately believed weeks before. Since most adults among the Cupiditas had experienced several such “shifts” of what was “acceptable belief,” it seems as though either they had become incapable of knowing the “truth” or they had become too jaded to care.  

Third, as I mentioned, some of what follows is from what is certainly the much more accurate and less self-serving oral history of the Veritas. They were apparently even more mystified by the cultural choices of the Cupiditas than we are and that cast some doubt on how much the Veritas descriptions can be relied up. That the Cupiditas were less well off on almost every dimension is borne out by the archeological evidence. Yet, I remain suspicious that even the truth-seeking and empathic Veritas could ever be completely accurate in their recounting of what happened among the Cupiditas. 

Fourth, Chomsky notwithstanding, in many cases, the Cupiditas did not appear necessarily to speak or even think in complete sentences. Here, I am not referring to the kinds of ellipsis or implicit commands that occur in English. While eating at the table with you, I might lift up my bread, catch your eye and say, “Butter?” meaning, “Would you please pass the butter (so that I can butter my bread).” This is understood by people in our culture. Among the Cupiditas, however, for an underling to use such language with one of a higher status would be considered highly insulting. Instead, the lower status person would be expected to say something along the lines of: “Oh, excellent one! Would it please you to allow me to partake of the butter and thereby increase my great debt to you?” On the other hand, a person of higher rank might well merely speak the word, “Butter.” In this case, it might or might not be an implicit request to pass the butter. It was intentionally vague and ambiguous. Lesser ranked people would silently pass glances trying to guess upon whom the honor of passing the butter had been bestowed. If too long a time passed, the high ranking person might suddenly grab the butter and smash it against the wall or into the face of a nearby lackey. On the other hand, if someone passed the butter, the higher ranking person, might say, “NO! TELL me about butter, idiot!” In other words, the higher ranking person would be intentionally vague so that no matter what was said or done, the other person would be wrong. One of many Cupiditas leaders who reveled in this game was the one called, NUT-PI.  

Legends of the Cupiditas: NUT-PI’s Plan. 

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Although there were many changes and variations in the legends of the Cupiditas, on one thing these legends all seemed to agree. The rather barren and desolate lands that the Cupiditas lived on now were the result of treachery and trickery on the part of the Veritas. Indeed, nearly all of the many problems that beset the Cupiditas were blamed on the Veritas while only a few were blamed on more distant and somewhat less prosperous tribes. For their part, the Veritas were amazed that the Cupiditas survived at all, given their insistence on warping and even denying the truth. The Veritas had learned long before even their most distant legends not to over-fish, over-hunt, or over-harvest in an area and thus destroy the very things that brought sustenance to the tribe. Moreover, when the Veritas built or hunted or gathered, they were always trying to try out new ways and to improve on how they did things. Usually, new ideas did not improve things but occasionally new ideas were an improvement and these were kept. While the Veritas worked and silence was not demanded by the character of the enterprise (e.g., stalking shy creatures), they talked or sang or chanted. By contrast, the Cupiditas tribe did the tasks of their tribe under the constant harassment and belittling of those in charge and new ideas were generally dismissed out of hand even on the rare occasions when they were brought up at all. This is not to say that innovation was absent in the Cupiditas. Apparently, NUT-PI himself rose to power by inventing a new way of killing. Rather than oust his opponents with spear or club, he poisoned them. He often killed them without their even knowing that he was vying for power over them. In this way, he quickly became the most feared among the Cupiditas. According to NUT-PI, those who opposed him angered the gods and those gods therefore destroyed his enemies, invariably striking them with “mysterious illnesses” causing them to go blind while their tongues turned black and their limbs grew ever more weary till at last they fell upon the ground writhing in pain and soon expired.  

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Previous leaders of the Cupiditas had risen to power through a combination of physical strength and guile. As they grew older, their physical strength began to wane slightly and the younger from among the Cupiditas vied among themselves for power and position until one felt strong enough and skilled enough to challenge the current leader.

Sometimes, the challenger would become the new leader and sometimes they would be killed outright or at least maimed to the point of no longer posing a threat. To the Veritas, such a procedure for choosing a new leader seemed preposterous! The chosen leader of the Cupiditas, always a man, could compel any woman among the Cupiditas to mate with him. Initially, this custom seemed to increase the average strength among the Cupiditas. However, the resulting inbreeding inevitably led to numerous health issues among the tribe. NUT-PI did not particularly enjoy physical combat and instead spent many of his days alone capturing small animals and discovering which plant tisanes had the most profound effect. At one point, he challenged the Cupiditas leader to mortal combat with spears. NUT-PI covered the spearhead of his weapons with an extract of hellebore mixed with datura. 

As was customary, in the rough-hewn stone arena before the “contest” began, NUT-PI offered two identical spears to the leader. As the leader reached for the first one, NUT-PI deftly slashed the hand of the old leader, CHOFM. It was not a deep cut, but sufficient poison leached into his bloodstream to cause weakness, confusion, and partial paralysis. A few quick thrusts and NUT-PI fatally wounded CHOFM. Despite his older age, CHOFM was much stronger, quicker, and more skillful than NUT-PI and would have easily won a “fair fight” with any sort of weapon. The tribe of Cupiditas, however, immediately hailed the new leader, as was their custom. 

{Translator’s Note}: The events described above are one of those many places where the worldview of the Veritas differs significantly from that of the Cupiditas. The legends of the Cupiditas do not distinguish between a contest won by treachery and a contest won by skill or good luck or superior strength. The Cupiditas already had a long tradition of pledging instant allegiance to whoever is the leader without any regard to how they got there. 

After many moons, NUT-PI proved himself to be a ruthless leader, even by comparison to other leaders of the Cupiditas. In order to keep the peace among the tribe, since he offered nothing in the way of true leadership, he roused the Cupiditas to a fever pitch of hatred for all that they had [supposedly] lost to the Veritas. 

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The next year, the winter seemed to last into spring and then into early summer. Hunting proved sparse and NUT-PI feared that the anger he had aroused might morph so as to be directed at him. Indeed, he rightly thought that fighting the far-away Veritas might seem to the people of the Cupiditas to be much more difficult than challenging and replacing their own leader. Also, the Veritas were known by all to be both more numerous and more prosperous than the Cupiditas. An all-out war against the Veritas would have been madness and although they spoke of it publicly as though it would be an easy victory, each of the Cupiditas secretly knew such a war would be hopeless. For his part, NUT-PI kept a close watch for any signs of a youth who might grow strong and skillful enough to challenge his power. He planned to poison any such youth before he became strong enough and confident enough to issue the challenge.

Such a challenge as was awaited by NUT-PI did not come. Instead, after the long, cold winter, the mandatory morning adoration songs for the leader of the Cupiditas were interrupted by two such ones as were not expected at all. By their garb, they were known to be of the Veritas. The Cupiditas thought it both stupid and brave for two such ones to walk right into the camp of the Cupiditas. Of course, the Veritas, while knowing that their customs were quite different from those of the Cupiditas, had no inkling of how heavily reviled they had been by NUT-PI. So, those two from the Veritas did not suspect that approaching the Cupiditas would be particularly dangerous. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As they walked deeper into the Cupiditas camp, POND MUD and ALT-R found themselves surrounded by more and more of the Cupiditas. Though ALT-R had grown ever more clever at reading and manipulating people, he mainly did so through his words. He was not well versed at all in the language of the Cupiditas and his palms grew sweaty and the throng of people swelled in numbers. Even the much stronger POND MUD though slow and brash well understood that he and his friend were no match for the strength of the entire Cupiditas people. While ALT-R understood only a little of the language of the Cupiditas, he and even POND MUD could tell that the people surrounding them were being derisive and threatening. At last, the tension became overwhelming as many of the Cupiditas hunters jabbed their spears threateningly at the two. So, ALT-R forced himself to speak in a loud, confident voice, supplementing his words with gestures that were common to all the tribes. 

“Oh, great and wondrous people of the Cupiditas, we bring great news to you and wish to speak with your great and legendary leader, CHOFM!” Though fearful, ALT-R made his voice ring loud and clear in the crisp morning air. 

His words brought a much more sudden change in mood than ALT-R expected. Several braves ran off from the group to inform their leader who was lounging in his large, private cabin. The crowd as a whole began chattering angrily among themselves and became even more threatening to the pair. 

ALT-R tried to understand what was going on and wished to choose his next words so as not to further darken the mood of the crowd. He gestured expansively to indicate the whole village. “You of the Cupiditas are a marvelous and strong people. I see many strong people among you. I see many cabins. I see many tents. I see that you are a prosperous and strong people.” The Cupiditas were feeling anything but prosperous and many took the words of ALT-R as sarcasm since they “knew” the Veritas were far more prosperous. ALT-R knew his flattery was not working well but had no idea why. He hated his lack of fluency in the tongue of the Cupiditas and struggled for something else to say by way of flattery. As he scanned the village for inspiration, he saw someone emerge from the largest cabin. This someone was dressed in finer garb than the other Cupiditas and was surrounded by several servile sycophants. 

brown wooden percussion instruments

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ALT-R stared at the man and bit his lower lip. He wondered whether this was the leader of the Cupiditas, for he, like the other Veritas, had always heard that CHOFM was a rather large, older, well-muscled man. But this did not well describe the obvious leader who emerged from the cabin. Perhaps he was ill. That would explain his diminished stature as well as the fawning attitude of those around him. Among the Veritas, such fawning behavior never occurred even for She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives but only signaled someone in a temporary state of great need. Still confused, ALT-R cursed himself for not having chosen a smart, knowledgeable friend who could help him rather than the one he could most easily manipulate. 

NUT-PI spoke. “I am NUT-PI, the King of the Cupiditas. I am not CHOFM. I vanquished that old man before the last fall harvest, oh, ill-informed one of the Veritas. What gifts did you bring me?” 

ALT-R wished that She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives were here to advise him. Immediately, he pushed this thought from his mind. He hated the leader of the Veritas, who had overlooked him as the next leader and furthermore banished him from the tribe – a rare and terrible punishment. But it did remind him of the Rings of Empathy that he possessed. 

“I am he who is called ALT-R and I bring you, oh, great leader of the Cupiditas, these wondrous and magical rings imbued with special powers by the shaman of the Veritas. My companion also brings his rings as gifts. Though these are magical and wondrous, they are but tokens of our esteem. Our real gift is the gift of knowledge. We have come to show you how to conquer the Veritas, not through superior computations [sic] but through knowledge. We are of the Veritas and know the Veritas. We know where their lookouts are; we know their habits; we know their weapons; we know their strengths and weaknesses. We can show you how to defeat the Veritas. All I need is your word to make me small King of the Veritas to your large King of all in these lands. And, my friend POND MUD, of course. Also to rule under you.”

NUT-PI said flatly, “Show me these rings.” 

ALT-R eagerly fished out his rings and nudged POND MUD to do the same, which he did grudgingly. ALT-R knelt before NUT-PI and offered up his rings. He quietly backed away, head still lowered. He whispered for POND MUD to do the same. And so it was done. 

NUT-PI considered the rings, turning them over in his hand and letting the morning sun play upon them. They were indeed beautiful and well-made, but he was quite skeptical of magic. He had his own “magic” after all, consisting of the poisons he used to keep his power. The Cupiditas may think he was magic but he knew what the real secrets of his success were: poison and ruthlessness. We will see whether your knowledge of the Veritas is sufficient to save your lives. Come!” He turned and walked back toward his cabin, gestured for them to follow and snapped his fingers at his body guards. 

Inside the cabin, NUT-PI seated himself upon an ornately carved wooden chair raised several feet off the floor on a dais. POND MUD and ALT-R were forced to kneel on gravel before him while a score of well-muscled guards pointed their spears at the head, throat, and chest of the two from among the Veritas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NUT-PI looked at the two disdainfully. “Speak! Be quick! What do you know of how to defeat the Veritas!” 

ALT-R now found himself having to speak plainly in a foreign tongue about complex things. He was ordered to do so quickly and he was already feeling pain in his knees. Yet, if he spoke in too little detail, he would be dismissed as a fraud. On the other hand, if he spoke in too much detail, he knew that he had no guarantee that the Cupiditas would not kill them both and use the knowledge anyway. He stared at the gravel wondering whether it would ease his pain or worsen it if he tried to shift his position just a little.

NUT-PI enjoyed his obvious discomfort and played the rings in his hand while he started at the two. “WELL?! Do not think to waste my time!” he barked. 

ALT-R decided to reveal the scope of his knowledge first and then delve into ever more detail, vowing to ignore the pain until he could read that NUT-PI was sufficiently impressed. He would also make it clear that it would be necessary for him to accompany the Cupiditas in their raid in person. Thus, he began to reveal the general habits of the Veritas such as the fact that guards were not always positioned in the same place. At the full moon and the empty moon, these posts rotated among over a hundred vantage points that were chosen in some unknown way by She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. ALT-R knew where the guards were now so he could sneak back into the lands of the Veritas and discover their new hiding places when the moon showed no light. For the guards took no pains to cover their trails from the campsites to their guard posts. Each guard also had a small drum for raising an alarm. It would be critical to sneak behind the guards from the direction of the Veritas, once the new positions were known. It must be done very quietly and with camouflage under cover of rain if possible. Each such post must be taken quickly, the drums destroyed, and the guards murdered. It would not be necessary to kill all the guards initially. The Cupiditas only needed to murder those on the side of the deep forest that bordered the lands of the Veritas. 

 

 

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ALT-R had never known such pain and yet, he kept reminding himself that he needed to convince NUT-PI of the depth and importance of his knowledge. He also painted a picture of beautiful women to be raped, full storehouses to be ransacked, and many fine artifacts that could be stolen. While it would be possible to annihilate the Veritas outright, it would be far more profitable to take them as slaves, he explained. He and POND MUD could be excellent at being the slave drivers for they spoke the language of the Veritas and knew their customs. They would be well positioned to foresee any uprising or rebellion and destroy any such tree of rebellion while still a seedling. “But of course, that choice remains with you, oh Great One,” said ALT-R fawningly. ALT-R had told a different story to POND MUD and promised him he could have any woman of the Veritas or the Cupiditas once they had become co-leaders of both lands and villages. Dull as POND MUD sometimes was, ALT-R hoped he would have the sense not to interrupt or reveal this now. He had made it as clear as he could to POND MUD to volunteer nothing. 

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At last, NUT-PI grew weary of listening for it was hard work to understand the twisted tongue of ALT-R and besides that, NUT-PI’s stomach growled for among all the Cupiditas he was the last to have a morning meal. So, he put an end to the interview, at least for now. 

“Enough! I will think on this and announce my decision on the morrow. Guards, take these two, denude them, bind them hand and foot in the center of the village upside down so my people may look upon the Veritas and realize they are nothing special and can indeed by conquered. When you have bound them securely, come back here that we may plan our invasion with or without their help. Perhaps they will be of future use as well. Or perhaps we will feed them to the wolves. Or, perhaps we will learn how they are made inside. Arise now and go! After you have secured them, warn the villagers not to kill them before I give the command, though if they wish to hurt them a little or humiliate them, to enjoy themselves. Stress, however, that they are not to kill these two until I give the word. GO!” 

ALT-R tried to stand and found himself struggling like an oldster. She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives, he thought, could have come to her feet more gracefully. 

So, it was that ALT-R and POND MUD found themselves in the middle of the camp of the Cupiditas, strapped to large logs, hog-tied and upside down, subject to the taunts and worse of the villagers through the long day and the longer night without benefit of food or drink or privacy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even a dictator needs confidantes and so it was with NUT-PI. Now, these were with NUT-PI to plan. While the Veritas had very detailed maps of the entire area, those of the Cupiditas were far less accurate. Nonetheless, they knew the location of the thick forest that protected one side of the lands of the Veritas. They planned their attack as well as the training and selection of the warriors. One of NUT-PI’s captains obliquely brought up the question of who would be the best slave driver of the remaining Veritas. 

NUT-PI laughed and said earnestly, “Do you think me a fool, INGO RICHES? You can never trust a Veritas. And you can never ever trust a traitor. They are both! Of course, I will choose one of you to be slave-driver of the remnants of the Veritas. These two will both be killed once Victory is assured. Till then, they can serve as useful tools. They will then be killed as slowly and painfully as possible in the middle of the main camp of the Veritas to illustrate to the Veritas what happens to any who defy me. That will be their final gift to me. I will decide later who will have the Veritas to run as they wish, but do not worry, INGO RICHES, you are among the candidates. We must first put all our thought into winning this war for the Veritas are not an easy foe. They are wily and well-trained. We will use these two, but let them grow more humility as they contemplate their possible fates while hungry, thirsty, fearful and humiliated. Besides, I want to know why they came here. So far, this one who calls himself ALT-R had not really answered that question completely. But he will in the morning. Or the next morning. Or the next. Eventually, I will discover the truth. And this I promise you and all the people of the Cupiditas – we will conquer the Veritas and rule the world.”

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Author Page on Amazon

The First Ring of Empathy

The Second Ring of Empathy

The Third Ring of Empathy

The Fourth Ring of Empathy

The Fifth Ring of Empathy

The Sixth Ring of Empathy

All We Stand to Lose

After All

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

D4

Dick-Taters

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Orange Man

At Least he’s Our Monster

The Ailing King of Agitate

An Open Sore from Hell

 

When GREED’S the only Creed

09 Friday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, psychology

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

autocracy, Democracy, greed, life, oligarchy, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

When greedy Greeder GREED

Is a person’s unifying creed

Then a person’s life’s defined

By its aging shrinking skin

Nothing won is really win

You rape instead of mutual love

You’re touching with cold metal glove

And wormy parasitic mind

When greedy Greeder GREED

Is a nation’s unifying creed

Then killing of another’s fine

The country falls to ash and mud

It splashes with a thick’ning thud

Fear and hate destroy what’s great

Stupidity becomes its fate

And blood’s a favored flavored wine

When greedy, Greeder, GREED

Is the world’s unifying creed

When everyone’s so cowed by cash

That love and life itself are seen

As merely meeker forms of screen

And forests die there is no why

The cancer spreads and all must die

The ugliness and stench obscene

AI-generated image to: ugly clown

There’s nothing left but useless gold

An unheard wind and endless cold

Congratulate your ego’s need

You bowed your head and prayed to GREED

———

Author Page

The First Ring of Empathy

The Walkabout Diaries: Variation

Travels with Sadie Teamwork

After All

Guernica

Essays on America: The Game

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

D4

Dick-tater$hit

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

All we Stand to Lose

The Twilights Last Gleaming

The Crows and Me

The Isle of Right

Imagine All the People…

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar



Just Desserts?

04 Wednesday Jun 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, faith, fiction, greed, life, love, poem, poetry, politics, USA, writing

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The greediest people of this world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Times be good.

Times be tough. 

Furniture made of finest wood.

Furniture made of glass and steel.

The finest ever made! 

Furniture of jade?

Furniture of gold? 

Furniture of workers’ teeth?

Furniture of … 

Never mind. 

It’s always too unkind.

It always makes their blood congeal

Unless more cruelty’s part of the deal.

AI-generated from this prompt: “A photo of earth from outer space. However, the earth is actually giant orange pig.”

 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Weather is too hot.

Weather is too cold. 

A world of green and blue 

Beloved by me

Beloved by you. 

Must be destroyed. 

Must be replaced. 

With empty rock 

And endless sand. 

Sung and swung by robot yuck.

Rhythms of the cyber band.

Ugly as a Cyber Fruck.

Wrapped in packaged poppycock.


 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Times be good 

Or times be tough. 

There’s always more to steal from me and you. 

No matter breathable skies of crystal blue

Are turned to grey and brown and goo. 

The endless quest for perfect life

Always ends in war and strife. 

Always ends in death and muck. 

Always destroys the innocents. 

Always destroys innocence. 

The very greediest people in the world 

Don’t give a damn. They patiently explain

Lives destroyed mean even more to gain.

Everyone else’s skin’s too dark, 

Or, they’re living homeless in the park,

Or they fled their homeland on a raft.

Can you think of else that daft

Just to skirt enslavement, death

Just to try to take another breath. 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

To fill their hearts with love and mirth

Even when they rape and force a birth

Forests are replaced with parking lots. 

Even when their plagues and wars and crimes

Farmland fog becomes the mustard killing fields 

Village squares become the hanging place.

Every Saint will fall from grace. 

No amount of power, gold, or greed. 

Fills their dark and empty place.

Vodka, ketamine, or world’s best weed

Power kills and easily as speed.

Cruelty fills no empty souls. 

Fooling fools gets really old.

Original Masks by Sarah Morgan
Original Masks by Sarah Morgan

 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

When all along they missed the joys of life

Aside from those that come from winning strife.

Along with the millions they inevitably kill

A life of lies; mindless greed always will. 

Instead a tuning in to what we are

A tiny leaf upon a giant Tree of Life

Every living thing is family

A Tree of Love far more than strife.

Cancer is outside the loving tree

Afraid, alone, aspires a star. 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Enough.

Enough.

———————

D4

The Orange Man

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Interview with Putin’s favorite DOG-E

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Ailing King of Agitate

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Math Class

Imagine All the People

Peace

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Dance of Billions

The First Ring of Empathy

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Travels with Sadie

Plans for US; Some Gruesome

Dance of Billions

To Be or Not to Be

The “All for me!” Bee

21 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

bee, bees, greed, poem, poetry

A fuzzy buzzy honey bee

Is just as happy as can be.

He rests inside a flower head.

What a lovely bower bed! 

The bees had learned to be quite wise 

At least, that’s what I do surmise

For in their bee-ish sort of way.

The bees alive and thrive each day.

For fifty million years survive.

They’ve helped the flowers live and thrive.

But then one day it came to be

A very different sort of bee.

And he proclaimed: “It’s not our lot

To help the flowers; that’s just rot!

And if you’re careful you can see 

We can still keep making honey.

There’s no need to help the rose.

Do they help us? I don’t suppose!”

This long-tongued rogue had so convinced

A new behavior soon evinced. 

The bees avoided pollination 

But gathered stuff for beehive nation. 

Yet all went well or so it seemed 

The bees still thrived and they still dreamed. 

They feasted well in winter’s cold. 

So happy with their new plan bold. 

The sunny spring arrived at last. 

The flowers though no longer massed.

“Each bee for themselves is right! 

Who cares no rose? We’ll fight!

We’ll sting, not sing, you’ll see

We’ll all do well if you give me all your honey!”

The roses gone; no bees to thrive. 

The roses gone; no bees survive.

For greed is poison just like snake. 

And only a fool would follow a fake.


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Myths of the Veritas: Three Blind Mice

Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Ailing King of Agitate

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Where does your loyalty lie?

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: Wednesday

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

At Least he’s our monster

The Isle of Right

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Myths of the Veritas: The Tale of Three Blind Mice

15 Monday Nov 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 109 Comments

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Aesop, America, fable, fiction, greed, hubris, myths, peace, treason, USA, Veritas

Many Paths sighed. “What do you mean by saying that it has all happened before, brother of mine?” 

Tu-Swift glanced back at Cat Eyes. Surely, Cat Eyes would be able to explain better than he could. But he could see that her parents Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns smothered her with affection, so he resolved to try to explain. “Throughout time, people have been prosperous for a time and then ruined it through the actions of the few who wish to indulge their greed and lies. We all know the story of the Orange Man. But there are many such stories, apparently from many places. Lies and greed always end the same way — with misery for the many and eventually with misery for those few greedy as well. I recently read — well, Cat Eyes read me a story about another liar whom they called “The Wobbly Man” who went into a beautiful, peaceful village and tore apart the people, one from another. And, just before Trunk of Tree came — before he discovered a short cut to the Veritas on the Other Side of the Mountain, we were decoding a whole series of stories that were meant to caution people so that they wouldn’t fall for the lies of the greedy. But why are such stories necessary? Why can’t people seem to see what the greedy are up to? If the answer to that puzzle is in the books, we have not yet found it.” 

Many Paths nodded. “I wish to know about these books and the wisdom in them. I need to hold council with people here. I need everyone’s wisdom to help me try to bring peace among the tribes. It seems that I may also gain good counsel from those who have gone before us. If, as you — and She Who Saves Many Lives — both seem to claim, this has all happened before, we can learn from these books what wisdom they have. Can you read me one of these stories?” 

So, it came to pass that Tu-Swift read to Many Paths the story called “The Three Blind Mice.” As he read, many of the Veritas gathered round to listen.

The Story of the Three Blind Mice.

Once before our time, a field of goldenrod provided a lovely home for a very large and prosperous camp-land of field mice. The goldenrod attracted grasshoppers and the mice loved the tasty and nutritious grasshoppers. When, as happens to all, eventually each individual mouse died, and they then provided food for the roots of the goldenrod which grew ever taller and more attractive to the grasshoppers. All was well in the golden field.



As things became ever more prosperous for the mice, a thought occurred to two of the mice. Their names were Cheat and Lie.

Cheat said to Lie: “We have more than we used to have. And that feels good. So, we would feel even better if we had more than anyone else.” 

Lie said to Cheat: “I suppose you’re right. But so what? Why would everyone agree to give us more?” 

They darted their eyes at random for awhile, wriggling their whiskers and trying to think of an answer to that puzzle. 

Presently, Lie said to Cheat, “We will lie to them! We will tell the that they are not happy. We will tell them that they are in danger! We will tell them that they cannot trust each other. They can only trust us. We will keep them safe!”

Cheat said to Lie: “That’s a wonderful idea!” Then, a mousy frown appeared between Cheat’s eyes and he said, “But why would they believe it? I mean look at us. We’re not by any means the fastest mice or the strongest. We don’t have the best eyesight. Why would they believe that we can protect them better than they themselves can?” 

Lie said to Cheat: “We will recruit Chaos to our cause! He has a knack for disorder. He will make everything so confusing that everyone will want to believe that we’ll take care of everything for them.”

That very night, while all the other mice slept, Cheat and Lie crept over to the usual sleeping spot of Chaos who was not too happy about being awakened.

Lie and Cheat cautioned him to be quiet and the trio snuck off to a part of the field that all the other mice typically avoided. They explained their plot to Chaos who readily agreed to play his part. He loved to confuse other mice every chance he had. 

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The three were startled by the sudden appearance of a huge pair of eyes atop a gigantic maw of jaws. The Fox’s voice however, was surprisingly warm and smooth. “No need to run. I’m not interested in hurting you three. I overheard your plans. Very smart. Very smart. Still, I think I could improve upon your plans quite a bit. With my help, you three clever mice will get what you deserve! You deserve more than an equal share. Much more. And, I will help you.”

The three mice were feeling both reassured and proud. After all, they had been called “smart” by a fox! 

Cheat asked, “How can you help? And why would you, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Fox nodded sagely. “You ask two excellent questions. You are indeed smart mice. First, let me just ask you a question so that I may answer your question in a way more tailored to your needs. Aren’t there among all you mice some that annoy you greatly or that you find unattractive?” 

Cheat answered first, “I really hate those mice that have to make up and follow rules.” 

Lie said, “And I hate the ones that always insist on the truth.”

Chaos answered, “I hate folks with pinkish toes. They just disgust me. For one thing, I’m highly attracted to them. But I don’t want to be. So, that makes me uncomfortable.” 

Fox nodded. “I can see exactly why you find those sorts annoying. I do too! You say you want to make everyone afraid even though things are going well. Now, imagine how much more fearful everyone will be when a fox shows up and eats some of the mice. Not just any mice of course, but just the icky ones. Mice with pink toes or who insist on the truth or follow rules. Of course, we will first have to make sure that lots of your fellow mice also hate those with pink toes and so forth. And, now, as you clever mice surely see, I have answered your original questions. Firstly, I can help by making your fellow mice so scared, they will literally come to believe anything you say and won’t mind giving some of their grasshoppers to you. Secondly, the why is simple. I get to eat the hateful ones among you. And that will make life better for you as well — no more hateful ones around.”

And, so, their deal was settled and, sure enough, thanks to helpful suggestions from Fox, over time, many of the mice came to hate those who played by the rules and came to hate mice with pink toes, and came to hate mice who insisted on the truth. 

Fox was happy to have his mice “delivered to him” ready to devour. He no longer had to chase after them. 

After some months, however, the supply of the hateful mice began to dwindle. Fox was no longer satisfied. He made it quite clear that he needed to speak to Chaos, Lie, and Cheat who had by now grown quite fat with the extra provisions they took from the other mice. 

Fox began: “Chaos, Lie, and Cheat, you have done quite well. Honestly, I’m quite amazed that things have gone as well as they have for all of us. You’re obviously all doing well. Let’s keep things going for both our sakes. You’ve run out of hateful mice, but that’s not a problem. We will simply need to expand the circle of hateful mice a little bit. No big deal. I can help you figure out how. Maybe mice with scraggly fur or mice with crooked teeth or mice that are unusually small. It’s totally up to you. I am really just a pawn in your plans.”



And, for a long while things went along much the same. Fox would get his fill of mice without having to chase them. The three mice — Chaos, Lie, and Cheat grew fatter and fatter. Some of the mice were rather shocked that Chaos, Lie, and Cheat were fomenting hate against certain mice and then ordering them to be rounded up to end up in the stomach of Fox. Some of the mice were rather glad it was happening. They were eager to help. They convinced themselves that they had always hated such and such a kind of mouse. Most of the mice were just glad that they weren’t the ones sacrificed to the Fox. After all, this was a world full of woe, just as Chaos, Lie, and Cheat kept saying.

At last, there came the day when Chaos, Lie, and Cheat had truly sad news to share with Fox. Cheat, Lie, and Chaos drew straws to see who would break the news to Fox. Lie lost and so he began: “I’m so sorry to break the bad news to you, Fox, but we seem to have run out of mice! We drew our circle tighter and tighter just as you suggested but you’ve now eaten up all of our hateful kin. But the good news is that you have been quite well fed for quite awhile and have plenty of fat to tide you over for a few months.”

Now, Cheat chimed in: “I suppose you’ll be moving on to other fields where there are still many mice?” 

Lie added, “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Fox.” 

Fox smiled in a foxy sort of way: “Indeed it has. And, I will be moving on to other fields as you suggest. But, our business is not yet over, and I won’t be leaving this field today. First, to show my gratitude to three such clever mice, I have gifts for you. For each of you, I have a tooth of solid gold. Here, walk right in and take your trophy tooth.”

Fox opened his mouth wide. In walked the three clever mice to claim their prize. 

And, never walked out.

When Tu-Swift finished, everyone sat silently for no-one wanted to be the first to speak. Each person who had heard felt a heaviness inside. Each recognized from their own experience how easy it is for greed to lead to blindness; for those who have more, to think that they will be cleverer than all the overly greedy people who went before. It had been so for the Orange Man. It had been so for NUT-PI. It had been so for ALT-R and POND MUD. Each wondered whether the Veritas were doomed to suffer the same dismal and inevitable fate. Or, whether this time, perhaps Many Paths could once again help them find a ray of hope.

———————————————

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Essays on America: My Cousin Bobby

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Absolute is not just a vodka

Plans for us; some GRUesome

Author Page on Amazon

Yum! How About Some Ground Glass?

05 Monday Apr 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

collaboration, greed, lies, politics, truth, USA, veracity, Veritas

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Lies in civilization are much like ground glass in an otherwise nutritious, delicious  buffet. They are dangerous. They are potentially deadly if undetected. Quantity matters. One piece of undetected ground glass is serious. One hundred pieces means that some people will die. Twenty thousand means everyone who partakes of the buffet will likely die. 

If one side lies constantly and one of the things they lie about is saying the other side lies, then, of course, your “loyalty” to your own side may get you to thinking: “Both sides lie equally.” Or, even more sadly, “The other side lies!” 

Imagine Rembrandt’s Mona Lisa: a beautiful painting. Now, imagine painting a red stripe one inch wide diagonally through the painting. It’s only a small part of the painting, after all. Maybe 10%. But is the value decreased by only 10%? Of course not. 

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Ever use a dictionary? How much would you pay for a really good dictionary? How about a dictionary with 1% errors? How about one with 10% errors? How about one with 50% errors? How about one with 100% errors?

Imagine you finally manage to save up enough money to buy your dream house. Location: near highways, shopping, & parks. Style: perfect. Condition: perfect. Except for one small thing. 

It reeks. 

Living in a society that is perfused with lies is like living in a house situated right next to a sewage plant. 

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The *only* advantage humans have in their struggle to survive is their ability to cooperate and communicate. A lie diminishes that ability to coordinate. The impact is not just that one lie. It’s the spread of skepticism. It’s the felt need to double and triple check everything. 

In a complex society, even a tiny bit of deception can multiply far beyond the immediate effects. That is particularly true if a deception passes through a number of weak points in what could be and should be the world-wide web of wisdom. 

For example, an employee at a drug company might be pressured to downplay side effects in a report. He does so. But in a corporate culture of honestly, someone will catch the lie and patiently explain that this is not the way things are done around here. The error will be corrected.

And no-one will die from that lie. 

On the other hand, the same employee doing the same act in a company with a sociopathic corporate culture might well have that lie not only propagated but further elaborated. As a result, the drug is over-prescribed and over-used. Millions of dollars, and then, that money is like seed money to buy layers and layers of political protection and press protection. At last billions of dollars flow from the pockets of customers into the pockets of the drug company. And, when I say “the drug company” of course, ultimately it ends up in someone’s pocket. Whose? A little of it goes to workers within the company. A huge amount goes to the top executives. But a huge amount also goes to the major stockholders — people who did nothing to discover or promote the drug, but in some sense provided money to support the company. 

Guess what? It might even turn out that the drug’s drawbacks outweigh the benefits. In the short run, that might not diminish profits at all. 

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Again though, we need to realize that the damage to society is not limited to the effects of this particular drug (though those can in and of themselves be devastating effects). It is experiences like this, for instance, that play into vaccine reluctance. Because some drug companies have done some unethical things, people naturally have some degree of mistrust for *all* drug companies for *all* drugs. Nor is the mistrust that such a scheme produces limited to the drug industry. If people believe corruption is widespread, they may themselves become more tempted to engage in it. Even if they don’t themselves engage in lies, deception, bribery, etc., they will certainly be on the lookout for such schemes. It will be harder to take people at their word. 

Putting crushed glass in a buffet injures people and ruins the buffet. And, if it happens often enough, it can turn you off from going to any buffets or any restaurants. 

Lying can seem attractive in the short term. But in the long run, it will be found out. It will ruin your individual reputation, but it will also tarnish the reputation of your organization and even, to some extent, your entire industry. Beyond that, lies work to spoil society as a whole.

Imagine that a well-functioning society is something like a well-oiled machine. One part connects to another and things function smoothly. Lies are like pouring sand in the gears. Things will move more slowly. Parts will also wear out more quickly. Add enough sand and the motor will burn out or the machinery may catch fire. Would you put sand in your gas tank? Would you add sand to the oil in your auto? Of course not! Why would you support lies in your company or in your society? 

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Apart from the societal disintegration that lies promote, if you actively pursue a policy of lies to benefit yourself, you are basically taking a kind of informational poison into your own psyche and eventually it will poison your mind. You’ll become more and more addicted to a strategy of relying on lies rather than relying on doing a good job or learning from your mistakes. When someone asks a perpetual liar a question, they will not be able to simply answer. They will have to calculate who knows what and how easily the lie will be found out and try to recall what lies that they have already told to whom. 

Just as more and more of an addictive painkiller must be used to achieve the same level of pain relief, so too, an addicted liar will find that they have to tell more and more lies. The lies may at first be “reasonable” lies. That is, at first, a liar may tell lies that are plausible. Over time, they will have to tell more and more absurd lies. If the liar is a popular figure, his or her fans may echo the lies despite not having any relevant direct knowledge. As the lies become more absurd, the fans echo not only plausible, lies but also echo absurd lies. To those who are not addicted to the lies, fan behavior becomes more and more ridiculous and pathetic. 

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Happy Talk Lies

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit 

The Update Problem

You Gave me no Fangs

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Essays on America: Addictions

Bounce

Claude the Radio Operator

Plans for us; some GRUesome.

A Lot is not a Little 

Such Sweet Sorrow

11 Thursday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, creativity, family, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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civilization, ethics, fiction, greed, innovation, leadership, legend, myth, stories, tales, truth, Veritas

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“Let’s go! It’s time to go!” The impatient voice of Trunk of Tree rung out too harshly in the soft glow of sunrise which reflected off the glaciers atop the Twin Peaks and suffused the village in a soft pink glow. 

“Patience, friend,” said Fleet of Foot. “I want to try one more time to convince Cat Eyes to come with us. And, since you’re in a hurry, have you chosen a book yet?” 

“I don’t want one. Just extra weight. They are mostly nonsense and lies anyway. Huh! Animals with necks as long as their bodies? Go have your conversation and then let’s go!” 

Fleet of Foot shook his head and stared at Trunk of Tree. He sighed. “How can you … can’t you see how important these books are? You can at least see that they are important to this entire tribe. You know that many of the Veritas of the Center Place…” Fleet of Foot shook his head and broke off. He could see by the look on the face of his friend that he would not be convinced. At least not this way, he thought to himself. “Never mind. I’ll go talk with Cat Eyes one last time. I won’t be long.” 

Cat Eyes was not difficult to find. Ever since they had arrived she had been an object of attention and now, all of these Veritas of the Twin Peaks treated her with a reverence beyond her years. Fleet of Foot stood quietly amid a small circle of people of all ages. Now, this particular group was dialoging about something called “logic.” When a decent cesura in the flow of conversation appeared, Fleet of Foot stepped forward and said, “Cat Eyes, I am sorry to interrupt you but may I please have a word with you in private?” 

scenic view of mountains

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Several of the Twin Peaks Veritas glanced at Fleet of Foot. The group walked a few yards away and continued their dialogue. It seemed that the treasure that they had uncovered included books on almost every topic imaginable. Once Cat Eyes had brought the secret of decoding to her tribe, they had spent much time on these artifacts. The knowledge of how to decode them had spread quickly through the entire tribe, though decoding was still a slow process. Gentle Talons, the leader of the Twin Peaks Veritas, had gifted each of the Veritas one book of their choice to take back with them to the Center Place.  All had eagerly and thankfully accepted.

Jaccim had chosen a book about training horses. Hudah Salah picked a book that promised to show how to use water on a desert to make it a field. She remained skeptical that such a thing could be done, but if it were possible, it would mean something wonderful for her tribe. Lion Slayer had opted for a book about lions and their close kin. Fleet of Foot had found a book with many pictures that claimed it showed how to run faster. Only Trunk of Tree had eschewed choosing any book at all. 

“Cat Eyes, I think you know what I wish to speak about.” 

“Indeed, Fleet of Foot. You want to persuade me to come with you. I suspect you do this mainly on behalf of Tu-Swift.” 

Fleet of Foot blushed. “He does … he does hold you in high regard.” 

Cat Eyes reached into her shoulder pack and brought out two books and a small piece of bark. “I wish you to give him these.” She handed him books as she said, “These are two books about training birds. I hope he will find these useful. One is my choice and one is Trunk of Tree’s though he doesn’t know that.” She smiled, “I know Tu-Swift is working with Suze to train Eagles to attack NUT-PI. Maybe these will help. I think they will. And…” Cat Eyes, who had always seemed confident, but even more so since returning to her home, especially so. Now, however, she hesitated, unsure whether to go on.

Fleet of Foot looked at her. “And…?” he prompted.

“And, although I tried to express how I feel in what I wrote for Tu-Swift, please convey to him my feeling which is hard to put into marks on paper birch. I feel split in two. I really loved my time with the Center Place Veritas, and I especially loved Tu-Swift. He will always have a special place in my heart of hearts. Look at my eyes. You must tell him this so that he believes it. I know that in some way he fancies me as well. But he and Suze have something special as well. To me, the two of them seem better matched to each other. I am an oddball. I was a child here. Then, I was a slave. Then, I was a stranger in your Center Place. But now — now, I am home. I not only belong here. I can do something important for my people. I am teaching all of them about the wisdom of these books and — I think Tu-Swift will understand how important that is. But you must make him also understand how I love him.”

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“I will do that.” Fleet of Foot again reddened as he said it. “Why not come back though and tell him yourself. We have the tunnel. It is only a few days journey. You can come back and describe what is here and then when you feel like it, you can come back again.” 

“Perhaps I will one day visit. I have no faith right now that the tunnel will keep working. Based on what I have read so far, no-one alive really understand how those tunnels — and especially the doors — really work. Jaccim certainly doesn’t — and what disturbs me even more is that he doesn’t care that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem to care that he has always just done what he has been told to do — what he was expected to do — even if it was to steal children. He isn’t even cruel. He seems like a nice man; fundamentally kind. Yet — he stole children. And he uses things with no idea how they work and he’s never made any attempt to learn. The people who made the tunnel, and I now think the city of the Z-Lotz, are long dead. They were killed in some horrendous wars. If you get back to the Center Place and many people explore the tunnels and we read more in the books about how they work, maybe I will some day visit — visit — the Center Place Veritas and Tu-Swift. And perhaps I will hold the children of Tu-Swift and Suze and tell the stories about my birthplace. But for now, this is my place. You see that yourself. I know you do.” 

Cat Eyes sighed and continued. “Tell Tu-Swift that someday I hope we shall meet again. Meanwhile, I wish him well in his endeavor to teach the eagles to hunt for NUT-PI. And, when we hopefully are done with that monster, I have another request. I am hoping he can train the eagles as well to hunt for, but not attack, my parents. No, don’t make that face. I realize that they are probably dead. But one never knows. They may have journeyed out to find me and ended up in a place by themselves. I know. I know. You need not put such a look upon your face. It’s been many years. I realize that. But I myself was lost from here for many years. Yet I am alive. And here. These are some likenesses of my parents from my memory and from the memories of two others who can make good likenesses and knew my parents well. It’s hope, Fleet of Foot. It’s hope. You must understand. I was hoping that they would be here. I need the hope. Even if they are never found or never return, I can still hope. It is a way to keep them alive in some small way.”

Fleet of Foot nodded. “I do understand. I will give Tu-Swift your messages — and your feelings.” 

“There is something else. I feel … the Eagles have their own life. To use them as a weapon… I would be glad if something came of training them besides murder. Tu-Swift wondered about turning the Eagles into weapons as well. Is that any better than Killing Sticks? It bothered him but he resolved it. He overcame it. But I wonder how different that is from whatever went on in Jaccim’s mind to allow him to steal children from their parents.”

selective photography of flying black falcon

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Fleet of Foot nodded. “Yes. As you say, Eagles do have their own lives. Many in the great web of life use others in the web. But the Eagles are free to attack or not attack, however you trained them. A Killing Stick however is not alive. It has no use I can see except to kill. It is not part of the web of life. It is not like the Eagles. At least I don’t think so. Tu-Swift, and Eagle Eyes before him, love the Eagles. If the Eagles choose to kill, it is partly due to that love returned. I don’t think of it as I do the Killing Sticks.” 

“Nor I. But I think all of us would feel better if the Eagles were also trained to find people and lead us to them. Imagine. Wolves can also be trained for such a purpose. But for that…wolves do not see well like Eagles. They can smell the scent of animals though. I don’t have any artifacts from my parents left. After they had been gone for years, people began to use the things they left behind. But I suspect that my scent must be like their combined scents. So, perhaps you can use this scrap of my tunic to have wolves find them too. It’s not likely. But it’s possible.”

Fleet of Foot blinked. “That is an amazing idea! To use the wolves to find people by scent!” 

The cat eyes of Cat Eyes twinkled. “Yes,” she chuckled, “though it isn’t mine. I read about it in a book. It can be done. Or, at least the book claims that it can be done.” Now Cat Eyes laughed aloud. “I can see your friend Trunk of Tree over there pacing and glowering, impatient as ever to get going. You had better begin your journey. I do wish you luck. I hope the tunnel still works and all of you return to the Veritas of the Center Place. And I hope… I wish Tu-Swift luck. That sounds cold. Just tell him I love him. But my life is here. And his life is with Suze. And with his sister. And you. And Shadow Walker.” 

“He’s … young,” said Fleet of Foot.

Cat Eyes laughed. “Yes, he is younger than I, but he has … you must understand … it is not just years. He and I, of all the Veritas I have met were the only ones who were stolen from their parents. We share that. And… if you can survive it, it ages you. He is older than he seems. Or, let me say instead that he seems older than he is. Of course, you’re right. He should be with someone of his own age, like Suze. Farewell. Leave now or Trunk of Tree will shed all his bark!” 

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Fleet of Foot glanced at his friend and could see that Cat Eyes was right. He laughed and Cat Eyes joined. Fleet of Foot took her hands gently in his. “You are a remarkable young woman Cat Eyes. I do believe we will meet again. I hope so. On behalf of Tu-Swift, I thank you for the gifts.” 

The small group of Center Place Veritas stood at the entrance to the path toward the tunnel and said goodbye one more time. Cat Eyes stood far off and waved to them. Even from a distance, Fleet of Foot could see the tears on her cheeks. Among the group returning through the tunnel was one from the Twin Peaks Veritas. Gentle Talons had chosen one from among his tribe to accompany them on their journey and to return in due course. This young woman’s name was “Flowing Waters.” She had artistic talent and, although quite bright and articulate, had been unable to master the decoding of books. Gentle Talons was hoping she could bring some drawings of the Center Place and its inhabitants back to Gentle Talons and his tribe some day.

A small number of Twin Peaks Veritas accompanied them on their journey back up to the door of the tunnel. Cat Eyes was not among them. She was already busy decoding more books and teaching others to do the same. Those who had come stood well back from the tunnel door acting for all the world as though some dark evil monster might emerge.

Hudah Salah noticed this wariness among the onlookers and considered. The only thing that had ever come out of that tunnel prior to the small Veritas delegation were child stealers. So! That really was a dark evil monster. No wonder they looked nervously toward the entrance, ready to bolt at the slightest urging. 

Hudah turned and watched carefully as Jaccim opened the tunnel door. It opened and though no obvious monsters emerged, the Veritas from beyond the Twin Peaks drew no closer. They continued to stare as their visitors, now including one of their own — Flowing Waters —entered into the oddly lit corridor that stretched beyond sight. They continued to stare as the doors closed. The onlookers collectively sighed. It seemed as though the entire party had been swallowed by a gigantic monster of rock. They turned and walked back home, eager to learn more of this wonderful world through the magic that The Chosen One had revealed to them all. 

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Inside, the returning Veritas, along with their guest, again gaped at the odd lighting and high ceilings. They strode along the smooth path confidently. Only Fleet of Foot found himself wondering whether this tunnel might collapse. On the way in, though he had been awed, the didn’t imagine the tunnel would “stop working” any more than a tree would stop growing or a bee would stop buzzing. Now, thanks (or no thanks) to Cat Eyes, he realized that this tunnel was not something to be taken for granted. It did not just spring into being. It had been built. And the people who had known how to build such things were gone, if the books were correct. Fleet of Foot thought about some of the many gifts the Veritas had received from their ancestors. How to start a fire, bow and arrow, which plants could be used for which diseases. Why had he always accepted these as part of the world? They were part of his world, but each meant his ancestors for thousands of generations had worked to make these devices better. Everyone he had known his entire life had experimented to make things better. 

Almost everyone, he realized. What if the likes of ALT-R and POND MUD had made these tunnels? They might have constructed them to appear an easy path — and then, they could collapse thus trapping and crushing an entire party under a mountain of hard rock. Did the books lie? Could there really have been a people so blind that they knew the story of the Orange Man and yet made the same mistakes again destroying in the process not just a single tribe but an entire civilization? No point in dwelling on a danger he had no idea how to defend against. He may as well walk to the end with as much happiness and joy in his heart as he could muster. If these were to be his last few moments on earth, he may as well enjoy them. 

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

He smiled and caught up with Flowing Waters. 

“Thanks for traveling with us, Flowing Waters. I saw some of your drawings. Excellent! I especially liked the sunset on the Twin Peaks.”

“Thank you, Fleet of Foot. I like to draw. Do you?”  

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Author page on Amazon

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Forgotten Field — A Myth about the Importance of Finding Common Ground

The Orange Man — a Myth about the Importance of Truth

The First Ring of Empathy — The Beginning of Book One of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Three of the Myths of the Veritas

Hauntings Across the Time Zones – A Poem

Camelot – A Poem

The URGENT E-mail

31 Sunday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, management, politics, psychology, story, Uncategorized

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Democracy, Dictatorship, ecology, fiction, greed, pandemic, Sci-Fi, Science fiction, story, USA

man in black holding phone

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“You ready to head home, Barry?” 

“Yeah, just let me read this URGENT e-mail. Hold on.” 

DO NOT REPLY TO THIS USERID. THIS WAS SENT FROM A DISCONNECTED SERVICE MACHINE. IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, PLEASE DIAL THE TOLL FREE NUMBER AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS MESSAGE. 

“What the heck? I’d better read the rest.” 

WARNING: You have an incompatibility possibility between your X-CalDYS system CWP and your YODEL system HGH. If this continues, you will either cease to exist or your SNABLE account will be cancelled or both or neither. In any case, please fix this immediately by following the proper procedures. Dial 1-800-555-9876 for help. 

“What procedures? What are they talking about? I didn’t even know I had these systems.” 

“Sorry, Barry, I can’t help you on this one. Hey, it’s 8 PM. I’ve been going since six this morning. I’m gone.” 

“See you tomorrow. I’d better call.” 

Barry’s fingers beeped out the tones and then heard the cheery voice of concatenated speech: 

“You have reached the help center. Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and you’ll be helped by the first available agent. Meanwhile, please listen to these important and informative messages from our CEO!

man wearing blue suit

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“Hello fellow employees. Our results for the second quarter of last year are not so far behind the analysts’ expectations for our results for the third quarter of next year as they had been thought to be by the fifth quarter of this year. What does this mean for you? Work harder! Work smarter!! And, whatever you do, help make us the most efficient company in the world so my bonus will be bigger. Next quarter, we….” 

The pre-recorded and completely irrelevant message of the CEO was replaced by the concatenated speech synthesis.

“Thank you for holding. Press 1 for help on Windows, Doors, and Sewer Pipes. Press 2 for help on recipes for Chicken Tetrazzini. Press 3 for general counseling. Press 4 for other help.” 

Barry jabbed the 4 key. 

“Thank you. You have reached general help. Please enter your employee number followed by the Hunkdab.” 

Barry keyed in his employee number. “The what? Hunkdab? This must have been mistranslated from Serbo-Croatian. Probably the pound sign.” 

“That is not a valid employee number. There is no corresponding record in the SNABLE system. Please enter a valid employee number.” 

“What? Maybe the asterisk key?” 

He rekeyed his employee number followed by the asterisk. 

“That is not a valid employee number. There is no corresponding record in the SNABLE system. Please enter a valid employee number.” 

“Oh, crap. What is this all about? Geez. It’s 8:30. I’m outta here.” 

Barry moved the cursor to the entry line and typed “LOGOFF.” 

The computer beeped. “ERROR 95433-J: Machine cannot be logged off by a non-existent user.” 

“What the–? What is this? Some kind of virus?” He hit the power switch. “What a day.” Barry packed up his laptop and opened his office door. 

Beyond the door, the dim hallways and locked doors that typified the drab and depressing departmental decor had disappeared. Instead, Barry looked out on pure whiteness, infinite and featureless in every direction. He blinked. Tentatively, he began to stick the tip of his finger into the white goo, thought better of it, and used his pen instead. The pen felt as though it was going into hot tar. It disappeared beyond the plane of his doorframe. He pulled the pen back. The half that had been enveloped in the whiteness was gone. 

He went back to his desk, grabbed some loose change and tossed a few pennies into the white space. He waited for the coins to hit something far below. Barry cocked his head. A long time went by. There was no sound. He shouted into the whiteness, waiting to hear a tiny echo. 

Nothing. 

“Okay. Okay. Possibility one. I’m crazy. Possibility two. I’m in some really new weird part of the universe. Possibility three. I’m the victim of an elaborate practical joke.” 

close up photography of a snow

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J slid to S’s work bubble and peered at S’s progressively overheated dance. S blinked at J’s presence and joined her hands. The bubble popped. 

woman with face paint with pumpkin

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“Problems with your A-life studies, S?” 

“Yes, Master. Just like all my previous experiments, the organization reaches a certain level of complexity and it self-destructs. Each of the autonomous agents still seems rational but the whole doesn’t work. What am I doing wrong here, Master?” 

J laughed his mighty laugh. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, S. Even I haven’t totally mastered the emergence.” 

“I guess you did have a problem…there were some creations you had to scratch. Just recently, the Sol Project, I believe?” 

“Rumor races faster than fact. I call it the Earth Project after the planet with the intelligent life forms, but you are right, I might well have to scrap it. Same problems you’re having but at a larger scale. The so-called intelligent agents are destroying their own ecosystem.” 

air air pollution climate change dawn

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“Smart!” said S sarcastically. He pondered for a few moments. “Are they too smart? Is that it?” 

J considered. “I don’t think they are too intelligent. Cetaceans are more intelligent and they are doing just fine except for being killed off by the two-legged apes and having their oceans befouled. No, these particular forms grew into this weird combination of being intelligent problem solvers and inventors yet nearly blind to Ka and Karma.” 

“How can they survive at all?” 

“Not completely blind. I said ‘nearly’ blind. They are aware of the fact that they are destroying the ecosystem in a kind of frenzied self-centered greed. They have actually made a scientific study of their own behavior; written books about what they call ‘The Tragedy of the Commons’.” 

“Well, then, with all those insights, what’s the problem?” 

“They aren’t doing anything about it, or at least not enough to survive. Instead of baking more pies, they squabble about the pie they have.”  

“It’s the same thing really in my little experiment. Everybody knows the company has too much bureaucracy and greed and some people do try to fix it but as often as not, the fixes make things worse. But, you obviously already solved it for the company case, right?” 

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Barry found the number for the crisis line, picked up the phone to dial. Then, he noticed that the whiteness was creeping closer like a sea of living, moving, Elmer’s Glue, thick and deadly. And closer. And closer. The office, just a few feet in front of him, was disappearing with a hiss. He dropped the phone, turned, then ran to the emergency exit. Then, he remembered that it was locked from the outside to prevent people from stealing equipment — though, in fact, that had never once happened. 

“What the hell?!” were the last words he uttered. 

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————————————-

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Pies on Offer: Mincemeat & Rhubarb

Index for Pattern Language for Cooperation & Teamwork

Author Page on Amazon

You gave me no fangs

23 Saturday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

earth, ecology, greed, humanity, life, poem, poetry, sustainabilty

wildlife photography of tiger

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You gave me no fangs.

You gave me no wings.

You gave me no claws.

Just a bag full of flaws,

And leftover things.

photo of boy in black and red collared shirt

Photo by Mike Sangma on Pexels.com

You favored my brothers;

You favored the others,

Left me only these brains

To fend off the beasts

And fend off the rains.

person riding a bicycle during rainy day

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Cainly, I search and destroy

All my brothers and sisters alike.

With an efficient surgical strike;

Pop them to bits like a bustable toy.

police army commando special task force

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I chew off my paw,

But see if I care.

It’s the Law, the Law,

Though my cupboard grows bare.

abstract blue clean container

Photo by jamie he on Pexels.com

I foul my teeny, self-built cage,

But I don’t know & I don’t care.

I’m all in, in a self-imposed rage,

And nowise will dare to learn to share.

baby child close up crying

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Unbalanced and crazed, my genius so stable

I comfort myself with a reckless fable:

That Father will Save me, Save me at last

If I destroy it all in a nuclear blast.

680174EA-5910-4F9B-8C75-C15B3136FB06_1_105_c

You seem so bewildered and oh, so amazed,

That I’m so unfit; so  roundly unstable,

Yet, I’m the one whom you ceaselessly hazed

Then pushed away me from the well-stocked table.

cooked pie

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Mother, you made me; you made me this way.

Stay and play for the final slay.

I’m loonery toonery sure as I’m shootin’!

Lunatic Fringe? You’re damned well tootin’!

woman with face paint with pumpkin

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So here I go with my terminal act.

Self-destructive and as fat as a fact.

We could’ve had earth as an Eden instead

But I guess I’d rather be greedy — and dead.

photography of maple trees

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Author Page on Amazon

Snowflakes

The Impossible

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Myths of the Veritas: Books

26 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

bullying, Democracy, ecology, empathy, ethics, fiction, greed, harmony, history, leadership, legends, lying, myth, politics, power, science, truth

snow covered mountain under blue sky

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Fleet of Foot took a deep breath. The air still held a bit of chill. In this place, the sun had difficulty finding and warming the land. He enjoyed the chill but also enjoyed the warmth when if finally came. He wondered how these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks regarded him and his companions. 

He realized that, whereas the Veritas who lived near the Forgotten Field of Flowers had had many interactions with a number of different tribes within living memory, the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks had had only three such “interactions” in memory and all had been disastrous raids where children had been stolen and taken off on horseback before a reasonable defense could be mounted. Of course, they had tried to track down The People Who Steal Children, but such tracks had led to a solid wall of rock that none could penetrate. Others, including the parents of Cat Eyes, Of the Night and Gathers Acorns, had attempted to cross the treacherous melting glaciers. None had returned. 

Fleet of Foot looked over at Cat Eyes who sat in a circle with a dozen of her kin and they pored over some of the mysterious markings. The strange pupils of Cat Eyes had made her immediately recognizable to everyone here except the young children. This had no doubt played a part in their easy acceptance of Cat Eyes though the lucky accident — if that’s what it was — of her fulfilling a prophesy — made what would have been acceptance and rejoicing into something more — something like the reverence that everyone in his own land felt for She Who Saves Many Lives. And yet, Cat Eyes was so much younger. He watched her — she seemed so at home with everyone here. Fleet of Foot remembered his former friends ALT-R and POND MUD. They — or at least ALT-R would have used the good feeling to gain power or wangle extra portions of delicacies. But this was not the nature of Cat Eyes. She got along with everyone of every age. Most of those in the circle were young but everyone was interested in the decoding. 

MythofVeritas-2-1

It was important work in the eyes of these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks. Even Gentle Talons sat sometimes in the circle learning the keys to understanding the markings and then, taking one of the collections and trying to make sense of it. It was a halting and laborious process. There were so many to decode! Each one was like a precious jewel. Each one sparkled and reflected a new light on what was all about them. Some told of medicines that had been forgotten. Some told of strange mythologies about the earth and the stars and the sky wanderers. Some described impossible creatures, both humorous and terrible; both gigantic and some so small one could not even see them! 

Each day, the Veritas learned something. And each day was pleasant. Yet, each and every day, Fleet of Foot felt a stronger and stronger tug to return to his own home. Trunk of Tree had begun to insist that they return days ago. He felt that they had accomplished their mission and learned much besides. Fleet of Foot looked up and saw that Trunk of Tree strode toward him. Fleet of Foot sighed. For he knew that Trunk of Tree was about to argue, yet again, that they should return with their news to the Center Place of the Veritas. 

“Good morning, Fleet of Foot. See yonder Cat Eyes. She has found her home. That seems clear. What of us? Our home is also beautiful. Let us arrange to go. Leave her here. Let’s get back. We can’t take all those … things … with us!” 

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He gestured toward the cliffs where most of these strange boxes of knowledge were still among the many unexplored shelves. Maybe we could take a few. Maybe some of these Veritas will want to accompany us. But we need to get back! We have no idea what Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker have found. We have no idea whether — even now — our Center Place may be under attack with Killing Sticks. We’re well rested. These Veritas have no Killing Sticks. What use are they? Let’s go.” 

Fleet of Foot sighed. He felt much as Trunk of Tree felt. He worried about the Center Place. Yet, the decoding work seemed very important as well. It was as though — it was a kind of magic. Cat Eyes and those she had taught were discovering things — some ridiculous of course, like the fish with eight arms and a beak who lives in a giant lake or large birds who cannot fly and little bugs so small they cannot be seen but still make people sick. Or the notions about the sky wanderers and the sun. Absurd, but still interesting. 

selective focus photography of octopus

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Yet other things seemed very useful: medicines, ways to prepare foods, a description of a way to lengthen one’s arm with a stick in order to throw a spear faster and farther. No-one had been successful at actually making such a device though. Perhaps it was also fanciful. Why would
“The Ancients” mix together so many fanciful things with useful information? It’s a mystery. 

Fleet of Foot nodded to Trunk of Tree. “There is much truth in what you say, Trunk of Tree. I too am eager to return. I suppose — I am not entirely convinced that the tunnel will even work. It was too … it seems now more like a dream I had than a reality. Somehow, I too worry about the Center Place. Perhaps most of us should return now. Let’s see how the others feel.” 

“Why? Many Paths made me the leader. I don’t see why you keep thinking I should see how the others feel.” 

Fleet of Foot sighed and looked at Trunk of Tree. “I know you don’t, Trunk of Tree. I have some trouble to explain it. If we all understand how each of us feels, then, when something happens we can work together better. We don’t have to stop in the middle of an emergency and have a discussion when there is no time for a discussion. Each person knows — or at least makes a good guess — about how every other person will react.” 

“If everyone would just follow my orders, we would all know too. Because everyone would follow my orders. If we did that….” Trunk of Tree gestured with his open hands but added no words of clarification.

pile of stones

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“If we did that we would still be stuck in the tunnel. In fact, if we did that, we wouldn’t have even found the tunnel. Do you really want to decide for others whether they should go or stay? How might you make such a decision without talking with them?” 

“I know it’s important that we go back. We have information that we came to get. And, it may be important. And, you just said you feel the same way. Let’s just go! Come on Fleet of Foot.” 

“I think most will agree with you, but let’s hear their voices. Yes, we have learned some important things, but every day that Cat Eyes works with those — cousins of hers, we learn more about the world that we never knew.” 

“And we learn nonsense as well! What use it is to think about — the other day, I overheard Cat Eyes and her friends talking about a lake that is so large you cannot see across it! What nonsense. And, it tastes like salt. And, it has waves as high as a tree. What use are such ramblings. These things do not exist. I don’t believe any of it when there is so much that…now what?” 

There was commotion around the small circle of cousins. They all seemed to be talking at once. A small crowd was gathering around the circle and adding to the general commotion. As the crowd grew, others began to pause in their tasks and walk over to see what was happening. At last, Gentle Talons came over and used his not inconsiderable voice to quiet the crowd. 

“Please. Please! One at a time. What is all this ado about?” He looked directly at Cat Eyes, somewhat accusingly, somewhat wonderingly. 

closeup photo of book filed on shelf

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“Oh, Gentle Talons, we have been decoding this book — for that is what they are called — all of them are called “books” — this book is called The Book of Civilizations. And it … it says that all of this — she gestured with both her arms, palms up, to sweep in the entire excavated cave was made by an ancient people…that there have been many great gatherings of people. Such people learned many things and had comfortable lives. And they had many wondrous things. They explored everywhere and learned much.” 

It became clear that Cat Eyes, for some strange reason, was having trouble speaking. She was swallowing hard, holding back tears. 

The booming voice of Gentle Talons rang out, “Please, sister, continue. What? Where are these civilizations?” 

Trunk of Tree and Fleet of Foot had walked over to watch more closely. Fleet of Foot craned his neck and wedged his way forward to look more closely upon the face of Cat Eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. What is going on, he wondered. How can mere … markings on the page cause such pain? Books? She had called them books? But how can they cause tears? He forced his way into the circle and took the hands of Cat Eyes, holding them gently in her own. 

“What is it? What’s wrong, Cat Eyes? Why do these tears flow on your cheeks? What strange magic is in these — books?” 

gray concrete building on top of hill

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Cat Eyes squeezed the hands of Fleet of Foot and drew strength from them. She took several deep breaths and continued. “This book — this book tells of many wondrous civilizations. They used wisdom and experience much as we ourselves do. They learned from each other. They loved each other. They ensured that they had enough food and yet … each of them … each of these ancient peoples … destroyed themselves. But it’s worse than that. The destroyed themselves through greed and hubris. They sought to … they knew about the Myth of the Orange Man. They knew that lying and greed destroyed other, earlier peoples. And, yet, each time, they stopped … they stopped being kin and part of nature. They knew that greed had killed other civilizations before them.” Cat Eyes shook her head and sighed before continuing on.

“Yet, each new civilization thought — somehow — it would be different for them. Of course, it was not different. Lies and greed and putting power over truth destroyed every single one of them. The story seems so real. But — how can it be? How could people know such greed and lies led to so much death and destruction and yet — they did it over and over again? According to this….” Cat Eyes stopped. She shook her head. She gulped and slowed her breathing.

At last, she was able to continue. “According to this book, there are much worse weapons than Killing Sticks. And they have been used to destroy untold numbers of people. And, after the greedy take everything and kill everyone, they die too! Because — in all their greed, they forgot how to live without stealing from others. And this didn’t happen just once. It’s happened over and over. How can this be? It can’t be true.” 

history ancient peru south america

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All had heard her words. And all reflected silently upon them. 

After some moments, Cat Eyes continued. “It can’t be true. And yet — I think it is — the book says that after a time, the greedy people begin to believe exactly that — that it cannot be true — and so — they make the same exact mistakes again. And again. And again. It seems impossible and yet…where are they? Where are the people who made these books and these caves? It seems as though they knew all of this — and allowed greed and lies to destroy them anyway! Are we doomed to be that stupid yet again?” 

Cat Eyes bit her lip and looked up at the eyes of each person she could see around her. No-one answered. She ended looking into the eyes of Fleet of Foot. But he too remained silent.

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——————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Author Page on Amazon

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: A Lot is not a Little.

The Anti-Academic Pandemic 

The Truth Train

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life

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