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Myths of the Veritas: The Battle of the Middle Path

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, story, Veritas

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battle, cooperation, fiction, governance, greed, insight, leadership, life, myth, peace, politics, strategy, tactics, treason, truth, Veritas, war, writing

The Battle of the Middle Path. 

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As afternoon reached its warmest, the large main force of the Cupiditas reached the margin of the lands frequented by the Veritas. NUT-PI spied a knoll somewhat higher than the rest. He climbed atop this knoll and called his warriors to stand below and listen carefully as he spoke. 

“Behold, all Cupiditas, for you stand on the edge of victory! Soon, you will have a chance to fight bravely for all your people. Many of you will come home, not only as heroes, but as rich heroes, for you will have your share of the women and grain and gold of the Veritas. You will be glorified among our people. We have marked the path to take you into the very heart of the Veritas. ALT-R will lead you to the Center Place of the Veritas where you will meet up with more of our people as well as the Fierce and Formidable Warriors of the North and the Nomads of the Southern Dry Lands. I will stand atop this hill where I may better direct your efforts. Although this position is quite exposed and therefore more dangerous than being on the front lines, I do not care for I will be here and lead us to victory. Tonight we rest, but before dawn tomorrow, we attack!” 

ALT-R thought it strange that NUT-PI would not lead his warriors from the front of the pack but rather stay back on this large hill. He would not be in any danger at all. There were no Veritas around. And even so, an arrow shot up so far would be rather easy to dodge. And, although it was true that the knoll offered an excellent view in three directions, the battle itself would take place on the other side a rather large forest. NUT-PI would not be able to see any such battle. He could only hear reports from messengers. ALT-R would not question NUT-PI about any of this, he decided, because he knew NUT-PI to be a vain man who cared nothing for the truth and would literally kill one of his own who questioned him. Besides, ALT-R thought he might be able to turn NUT-PI’s style of leading at a distance to his own advantage. Though ALT-R was not a commander among the Cupiditas, they would be following his instructions on where to go and having gotten in the habit, once they reached the Center Place of the Veritas, the whole tribe might listen to his instructions on where to find treasure and how to divvy things up. 

low angle photo of forest

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ALT-R was about to rest among a nice soft bed of moss that he knew grew in a small copse of trees nearby when one of the messengers of NUT-PI said that his presence was required by NUT-PI atop the hill. ALT-R knew he had no choice in the matter, but in case he did have any doubts, he was accompanied by four of NUT-PI’s guards. They ascended the hill and came to a small tent which had been pitched atop the knoll. In front, NUT-PI perched upon a small rock. He looked straight at ALT-R who had kowtowed as he had learned appropriate. “So, ALT-R, what do you think of my strategy to lead my force from this vantage point?” 

At this point, the guards drew back a distance they deemed respectful to NUT-PI but still close enough to function as guards with the spears at the ready to be thrown at — and through — ALT-R.

ALT-R bit his lip, unsure how to answer. “Sire, it is not for me to judge your decisions. My job is to show your warriors the ways through the guards of the Veritas, their traps, and the natural barriers so they may arrive near the Center Place unharmed, or at least, as little harmed as possible.” 

NUT-PI laughed. “So, you think my question a stupid one?”

ALT-R said, “Of course not! It’s a good question.”

NUT-PI’s voice changed to one of cold and steel, “Then answer it! I command you!” 

ALT-R began, “Well, the idea of being able to see the whole battle field before you is a good one. However, I am afraid that, if the battle goes as I imagine it will, you will not actually have a very good view from here. The Veritas are likely to engage us on the other side of that woods where there is a steep hill and then a large flat plain. Beyond that is a shallow river and beyond that is the Center Place of the Veritas, none of which can be seen from here.” Now ALT-R began to sweat even more. In his desire to show off his knowledge, he had perhaps said too much. 

NUT-PI laughed again, without any real mirth or warmth. “It’s more symbolic that anything else. Another reason I decided to stay back, between you and me, is that I want the men to gather glory for themselves, not me.”

ALT-R thought this very likely another bogus reason but aloud all he said was, “Indeed, Sire.”

NUT-PI winked at ALT-R. “I also have a bad blister on my heel. I don’t want to slow down the troops.” 

ALT-R suspected this might be part of the real reason, but he suspected that NUT-PI was a coward, pure and simple. Of course, to even hint at such would be to court, nay, guarantee, his own death so he tried to push these judgements out of his mind. 

NUT-PI’s voice now took on a happier tone. “I didn’t call you up here to get your opinion on my military strategy. I really want to tell you three things. First, do not fail in showing my people the way through to the Center Place. Second, do not imagine that you will become the leader of my people. I know you are the ambitious sort and it’s fine that you can be the slave-driver of the Veritas but if you try to vanquish me, you will die a horrible death. Third, when you come to the Center Place and capture the slaves, I want you to bring me the three most spirited of the Veritas women for my private amusement. I will personally torture them into submission. If you succeed in these three things, your life will prove most excellent. If you fail in any of these three tasks, your life will be short. But if you betray me in any way, your life will be much much longer than you will wish it to be. Now go and do as you are commanded.”

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The Veritas, meanwhile, discussed their own strategy. Their mood was euphoric for they now were buoyed by the thought that they had driven off both the Fierce and Formidable Fighters of the North and the Southern Nomads without really doing much battle at all! 

She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives frowned. “It is good, my people, that we have made peace where it was possible, but it is too soon to celebrate. We still have battle ahead. Do not underestimate the Cupiditas. Though we outnumber them, they are still many and well-trained. And, they have ALT-R’s help.” 

She-of-Many-Paths brought out some Ishago bones and waved them in the air. “I am not so sure that we outnumber them. We have all been saying that we outnumber the Cupiditas, and that may be so. But I am seeing another possibility. You see how it is among us. We are all equal. We all live, at least partly, in the Center Place together. But now think of the Cupiditas. They are all about power, not truth. They do not think of each other as equals. They have a society that has few at the top and many below. On those few occasions when any of the Veritas have visited, they have gone to their Central Place — or rather what such visitors assumed was their Central Place — and not seen so many as we ourselves are.” Here she again waved the bones in her hand upon which were inscribed marks for the Cupiditas who had been seen. 

“But I am thinking that those among us and our ancestors who made these counting marks may not have counted accurately. There may be a less desirable place than we ever visited with many more Cupiditas than we have ever seen. We may only have seen some of the Cupiditas. Perhaps many more live in less desirable circumstances. For it seems the nature of people who live as the Cupiditas that they don’t want everyone to live in similar circumstances. Rather, the happiness of the greedy few is contingent on having a much larger number of people with little. This was the nature of the Orange Man that we revile in myth but whom the Cupiditas celebrate in song. Even the war garb of the Cupiditas, besides the blood red, is orange to honor the Orange Man. So, it strikes me as entirely possible that we will face a much larger force of Cupiditas. I could be wrong. But I might not be. Such persons as have nothing might be whipped into a killing frenzy by someone such as NUT-PI who will blame all the troubles of the Cupiditas on us.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next, “I see us as a circle or better as a web within a circle. But when I try to imagine the Cupiditas, this is the shape I see.” Using the back of her spear, she drew a triangle in the dirt. “Here is NUT-PI and here are his captains.” Here she pointed at the apex of the triangle. “And the top part of this — this is what our people have seen of the Cupiditas. But down here — this large area may be all the Cupiditas whom no-one has seen.” 

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She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives nodded her agreement. “This may be so. Or not. But we must be prepared for a hard battle. We cannot assume that we will greatly outnumber them when it could be that they greatly outnumber us.” 

Trunk of Tree added, “Though we have heard nothing like that from KAVA-NUT or POND MUD.”

Shadow Walker said, “True, though they might not even themselves know of such. These traitors are meant to teach the Cupiditas about us, but I do not think they are experts in the Cupiditas ways.” 

She-of-Many-Paths spoke again, “You see how it is with many of our distant cousins in the forests. They grow and prosper by roots but also by fruits and seeds. So too must it be with us. We need numerous plans for numerous possibilities. Perhaps we will be lucky a third time and this battle will also prove easy, but it may also prove hard and for that we must be prepared. We should even have a way to warn the whole of us if the fierce and formidable of the north or the Sabra as they call themselves were to rejoin the battle.”  

And so it was that many possible contingency plans were outlined and such were communicated throughout the Veritas. Guards were rotated throughout the night. Each warrior, man or woman, attempted to get what rest they could and dreamed whatever dreams they might. Each warrior, man or woman, knew that they would be fighting on the morrow and that such a day as that could be their last on this green earth, the last on which to feel a loving touch or laugh at the antics of a child. They knew they would be fighting for their life but also for the life of the tribe, the Veritas, the way of the truth, and what happened would not only echo through their own life but also the lives of people yet unborn. Moreover, since greedy people care not for anything but themselves, the skill and intelligence of the Veritas on the morrow would also impact the tree of life itself, at least in this part of the world that they knew and loved. 

nature forest trees park

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As the still-sunken sun began to paint the palest pink strokes upon the clouds, the Cupiditas awoke and began their relentless march, following ALT-R and the trees marked with the rat-god AGAM upon their trunks. The Cupiditas were numerous indeed. As had been foreseen by She-of-Many-Paths, the Veritas had only ever visited the relatively rich main camp of the Cupiditas. In many scattered camps on the border of the northern wastes, a much greater number of Cupiditas eked out a living as best they could. All the males beyond the age of 10 winters had been conscripted to join the throng. They had not been made false promises of riches as had the warrior class. NUT-PI had told the lesser minions that they had no choice if they wished to see their loved ones alive. He had also been careful to paint a picture of the Veritas as monster criminals who, if left unchecked, would come and destroy all the camps of the Cupiditas just as they “always did.” NUT-PI concocted quite a gruesome tale about how the Veritas were a bloodthirsty lot and especially like to cut the arms and necks of Cupiditas women and children and suck out their blood until they died. 

Though numerous, these second-class Cupiditas were not nearly so well-trained as the warriors in the central camp. They were eager to get to kill a Veritas or two and return to their own villages. They began advancing in a broad line without regard to the path ALT-R was taking. Many followed the markings on the true path to the Center Camp of the Veritas, but many others followed false trails into brambles or box canyons. ALT-R began seeing Cupiditas beside him both north and south and some even were ahead of him. He spoke loudly. 

“Listen! Follow me! There are also false trails. Keep in narrow file through the woods! On the other side we may gather atop a hill for a mighty charge down the hill onto the plain!” At these words, two or three of the Cupiditas drew near him to follow in his footsteps. The vast majority looked over at ALT-R, stopped for a few moments with a puzzled look, and then resumed fanning out into the forest. ALT-R was supposed to lead the Cupiditas but had no real title among them. More importantly, he was far from facile with their language. ALT-R grew exasperated and began shouting his instructions. To the Cupiditas, this made his speech all the more unintelligible and most ignored him. He shouted more loudly, “FOLLOW the true path, not the false ones, you …” But here ALT-R broke off from shouting. He didn’t know the Cupiditas word for “stupid” and, he realized his words were having no effect. He retraced his steps till he came upon a Cupiditas dressed and face-painted as one of the captains in authority. Slowly, he used gestures and made the man, named OR-man-AA realize that everyone was supposed to be following his lead. He saw that the lower class Cupiditas were getting too far ahead. OR-man-AA didn’t really see this as a problem. On the other hand, he did know that NUT-PI had ordered everyone to follow ALT-R through the woods so he shouted this to his nearby lieutenants who in turn made cursory efforts to organize the troops. Had NUT-PI been close by, their efforts would have been more diligent, but as it was, they saw little point. 

Indeed, the false paths led only a few of the scattered throng of Cupiditas to their death and a few more to injury. By dawn, a huge number of Cupiditas milled about the far edge of the forest in the deep shade waiting for the order to attack. About fifty yards before them, a long steep hill led down to a large flat plain where they could see a small force of Veritas soldiers raising their spears and shouting at them. Beyond, they could see the stream that the three traitors had foretold, and just beyond that the smoke of the morning fires of the Veritas Central Place. Seeing that they vastly outnumbered the small band of Veritas visible on the plain below, OR-man-AA shouted at them to ready their weapons and charge. They sprinted the fifty yards to the edge of the long hill and began sprinting down it. 

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ALT-R had hoped to lead this charge but instead, being only of average speed, he found himself in the middle of it. There were so many Cupiditas all about him that he found it difficult to see much more than Cupiditas running beside him, behind him and in front of him. As he came to the edge of the hill, his view of the downslope and the plain below opened up suddenly. The Cupiditas warriors were slipping and sliding and falling all around him. He found it incredibly difficult to keep his footing as he ran. He usually walked carefully down this slope but had never slipped or fallen. The slope seemed littered with round rocks everywhere. Cupiditas warriors were tripping and falling everywhere. A few were nicked by the poison tipped weapons of the captains and a few were trampled. A few suffered broken ankles. Most simply fell a few times, got back up and continued their headlong descent. Before them, ALT-R could see that the Veritas were in full retreat rushing back to their Center Place. About halfway down the hill, ALT-R noticed that the bottom of the hill looked somehow different than he remembered it. “TRAPS!” he shouted in his native Veritas tongue. Already, the fastest among the Cupiditas were falling through the carefully camouflaged coverings. “TRAPS!” he shouted again and began trying to angle off to the left so as to avoid the traps. None among the Cupiditas heeded his words, which had been uttered in Veritas, but some began to see that the bottom of the hill was indeed a trap. Just as ALT-R had tried to do, many began to try to veer away from the traps but some veered left and some veered right so that many simply impeded each other. ALT-R managed to barely avoid falling into one of these pits himself and as he glanced over his right shoulder he could see that the bottom of the traps had upward pointing sharpened bamboo poles which had impaled many of the Cupiditas. He ran still farther left into a thick copse of birch trees. He had to get out of this battle and take a moment to think. Think, he commanded himself. 

The first thought that occurred to him was that victory was now far from certain. His second thought was that NUT-PI would likely discover that ALT-R had failed at his main job of leading the Cupiditas troops safely into the Center Place of the Veritas. If NUT-PI thought this was incompetence, he would die quickly. If NUT-PI thought it treachery, a more likely outcome, he had promised ALT-R a long, slow torturous death. ALT-R snuck carefully to the edge of the copse. He could see the small band of Veritas warriors had retreated to the Center Place. There was no sign of the other two forces that were supposed to converge on the battlefield. Meanwhile, the Cupiditas continued to pour down the hill. They seemed to be more able to avoid falling and tripping now and many were veering to left or right rather than straight ahead. The number falling into the pit seemed far fewer and some of those who did were running atop the piled bodies of their countrymen. 

Once the nomads from the south and the fierce and formidable warriors of the north showed up, the Veritas would be overwhelmed. If ALT-R were able to accomplish his mission of capturing some spirited women for NUT-PI, he might still escape with his life. He wondered whether perhaps he should try to sneak into the Center Place before the main force but dismissed the idea as too dangerous. He concluded that he would observe from this location and wait for all three armies to converge. Then, there would be general chaos and he would have his best chance for capturing three women. Of course, there would also be more competition. ALT-R had been so preoccupied with trying to ensure that he successfully led the Cupiditas to the Center Place that he had only felt vaguely uncomfortable about fetching three Veritas women for NUT-PI. But now that he did have time, he realized that the third condition would be extremely difficult to achieve. ALT-R knew that he was not held in high esteem by the Cupiditas. One Arrow. He had no official position with the Cupiditas. Two Arrows. Any of the Veritas who might meet him would try to kill him on sight. Three Arrows. In fact, how could he capture three spirited women with no help from anyone? NUT-PI had intentionally given him a task that he would fail at! But why would he do that? ALT-R’s mind was racing ahead and he began to concentrate so hard that the chaos of the battle in front of him seemed no more consequential than clouds passing in the sky. He realized that NUT-PI not only didn’t trust him; he shouldn’t trust him because, after all, he was a traitor! No-one trusts me, he realized, perhaps for the first time, nor should they!

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“THWANGGGGG!” ALT-R’s attention snapped back to current circumstances in a flash thanks to an arrow that embedded itself in the white-barked birch trunk only a few inches from his head. He peered out into the field and saw Cupiditas running in many directions but mainly toward the shallow creek while the Veritas warriors had seemed to retreat. But there were no fortifications. ALT-R couldn’t imagine why the Veritas warriors chose that unfortified position. But just then another arrow whacked into the tree near ALT-R’s kneecap. Where the hell were these arrows coming from? Not from the Veritas who had gone to guard the Center Place. ALT-R knew that he would have to join the fray to have any chance of gaining personally from this war. But then again, it would be risky to join in the fray when the outcome was still uncertain. He thought: What the hell is delaying the nomads of the south? Did POND MUD screw them up somehow? And, for that matter, why do I only see the blue & green of Veritas and the orange & red of the Cupiditas? Where is KAVA-NUT? And where the hell are the arrows coming from? 

As ALT-R looked out, he realized finally that there must have been many more Veritas in these woods on both sides of the plain. They were targeting the brightly colored clothes of the Cupiditas. The Cupiditas preferred clubs, knives, and spears. However, the fraction who survived the downhill and traps had been focused on trying to attack the Center Place and it seemed to take a long time for them to realize that they were being attacked on both sides. Eventually, the still considerable throng somehow came to the realization that moving back and forth between the two rows and trees trying to flush the Veritas out was a losing proposition. Maybe this was the time to rejoin the fray. As the Cupiditas began to listen to their remaining captains, they began regrouping in a throng next to the near side of the river. The warriors on the outside deployed their shields. The hail of arrows had stopped, at least temporarily. ALT-R ran to the front of the group gesturing and shouting,  “FOLLOW ME!” 

Compared with the warriors of the Cupiditas, ALT-R’s body was much more rested and he was more lightly armed and armored. He was the first to reach the stream. ALT-R thought this dramatic move might just earn him enough respect to at least share in the bounty. His plan was to stop on the other side until a large contingent of Cupiditas could be there. He planned to pretend to lead the charge and direct people while slowly working has way back toward and then back across the river. An odd sense of deja vu overcame ALT-R as he splashed through the river toward the Center Place. Yet, he also had a sense of foreboding. Something was not right. Why was the river so narrow and shallow? Why were the Veritas being so stupid? They could easily be overwhelmed here. Just as he reached the far side, a loud rumbling, crashing noise like bubbling thunder began. He turned to see the throng of Cupiditas warriors wading across the river. They sprinted as best they could when they stopped as though suddenly stupefied. As one, they turned their heads upstream to see a wall of water heading their way. Suddenly, they were gone. ALT-R found himself alone with the Veritas warriors who were advancing on him with spears pointed toward him. 

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On the other side of the river, which had magically grown to a torrent, a few scattered Cupiditas warriors were running back toward the steep hill. They now avoided the traps, but climbing back up the hill proved difficult. Veritas archers deployed from the woods on both sides and began shooting arrows toward the fleeing warriors. In their desperate attempts to clamber back up the steep slope, many pushed or pulled on their compatriots. This ploy tended to make both soldiers slide farther back down the slope, only to become easier targets for the Veritas archers. Some few managed to escape to the relative safety of the hilltop and slid into the shadows of the forest. ALT-R saw howling wolves pursue them. 

Among these Cupiditas survivors, only one remained faithful enough to NUT-PI to wend his way through the forests and find his way back to the hilltop where NUT-PI waited with a dozen heavily armed guards. The man’s name was UR-yapl-NA who had suffered a severely sprained ankle but was otherwise unharmed. NUT-PI hailed him and demanded that he ascend the knoll and report on progress. After struggling up the knoll, he knelt before NUT-PI and recounted as best he could the slippery hill, the archers, and the broad shallow stream that magically became a raging torrent that had swept away most of his remaining soldiers. Only ALT-R had arrived safely on the other side. When NUT-PI questioned him about the fierce and formidable warriors of the North and the nomads of the South, UR-yapl-NA answered that he had seen no such people on the battlefield. 

NUT-PI sat silently for a long while and then gestured for his guards to behead the hapless messenger. NUT-PI then ordered his guards to gather up their supplies and they headed back to their own village. His sore heel no longer bothered him. He told the guards that it was their duty to now head back and protect their village. He walked in silence, bent on constructing a story filled with Cupiditas strength and courage and cunning that was unfortunately overcome through Veritas treachery and magic. In this narrative, he himself would be the main hero and all that stood between safety and an all-out decimation by marauding Veritas who would wipe out or enslave every last man, woman, and child among the Cupiditas. He became so obsessed with perfecting his story and mentally rehearsing it, that the failed to notice that his guards fell back ten then twenty paces and began whispering amongst themselves. 

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Meanwhile, back at the Center Place, ALT-R had surrendered himself to the Veritas warriors who had surrounded him in the Center Place. He had been stripped to search for hidden weapons and then thrown into a small cell in a heavily guarded stockade, not far from KAVA-NUT and POND MUD though ALT-R did not yet know this. When ALT-R had convinced himself that there was no possible escape from his prison cell, he sat on the hard earthen floor with his back against the log wall upon which sunlight provided some slight warmth. Over the next few hours, by overhearing shreds of random conversations of Veritas folk, he learned that the Cupiditas had been completely defeated; that POND MUD and KAVA-NUT had both been captured; that the promised help from the fierce and formidable foes of the North had never come. Nor had the nomads of the South joined in the fray. He wondered how he could get a message to KAVA-NUT and POND MUD and how they might escape. Would POND MUD and KAVA-NUT trust him? He thought not. In fact, he realized, no-one on this earth trusted him. No-one. He knew that he was no longer a welcome part of the great and varied people of the Veritas. He strongly suspected that he would not be welcome among the Cupiditas either, should any yet survive. They would blame him for leading them to their death and probably imagine he had done so on purpose. That was almost certainly what NUT-PI would think.

“No-one trusts a traitor.” He spoke these words aloud though he had not meant to. ALT-R cursed himself and beat the hard dirt with his fists. He had lived and schemed among the Cupiditas for only a short time but he realized that he hated being in league with them. Their way of putting greed and power over truth and cooperation was stupid. He realized that if everyone lied and manipulated the way he himself had done, the results were always doomed in the long run. If everyone were like ALT-R, there would be no camps. There would be no baskets, no learning, no hunting parties. We would all be beasts. We will be wolves without a pack, horses without a herd, bees without a hive. Truth builds us up together and lies tear us apart. How had he failed to see this, he wondered. 

He lay exhausted on the hard dirt floor at last and began to drift off to sleep. In the distance, he heard the happy chanting, singing, and dancing feet of the Veritas. He could not make out the words but he nonetheless felt a strange comfort in the sound of his own language being sung so tunefully. And though the warmth of the flames of the central fire flicked far from his cell, he imagined the flames and thought of their warmth. He remembered staring into those flames as a youngster as he found some temporary peace in this, the Center Place of his dreams. 

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Magic Portal to Other Worlds 

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: Wednesday

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Happy Talk Lies

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

An Open Sore from Hell

Somewhere a Bird Cries

My Cousin Bobby

Labelism

You Bet Your Life

The Orange Man

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Mango Mussolini

 

Myths of the Veritas: The Battle on the Northern Path

02 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, Veritas

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Tags

battle, empathy, fiction, leadership, life, myth, peace, politics, strategy, tactics, treason, truth, Veritas, war, writing

The Battle on the Northern Path. 

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She-of-Many-Paths walked among the Veritas accompanied by She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives and Shadow-Walker. They wanted to ensure that whatever of importance that one Veritas knew, so did they all know. Mainly, however, they encouraged each of the Veritas to be ready in mind, body, and spirit. Such preparations included not only guards and warriors but every person except for infants in arms. Mothers taught their toddlers how and where to hide and each such mother was well prepared to defend their own home with weapons and skill and strength of body and strength of resolve. While on one of these walks of encouragement and knowledge sharing, the three came upon a curious sight. Eagle Eyes lay face down upon the ground obviously concentrating on something though what was not obvious. She heard the others coming and motioned for them to approach slowly. “Come,” she whispered. “Watch this.” 

So the trio approached quietly and slowly. At first, they saw nothing unusual. Then, She-of-Many-Paths noticed a slight hole in the ground in the shape of a fairy ring mushroom cap turned upside down. Why this held the attention of Eagle Eyes was not clear, but she did like unusual shapes. At the bottom of this small funnel however, She-of-Many-Paths saw two tiny twigs sticking out. As she drew closer, she saw that these sticks were serrated. She slowly knelt on the ground beside Eagle Eyes and then lay on her belly. With her eyes thus very close indeed, she saw that the “twigs” actually consisted of insect jaws. Before long, an ant came along and began to traverse the hole. Then, a very strange and wondrous thing happened. The ant slipped! She grew agitated and began scrambling to climb right back out of the hole. Yet, as she did so, her feet slipped still more so that soon she found herself falling toward the vortex at the center. For an instant, the tiny creature seemed to catch some purchase and made progress toward the rim. Then, the ant lion began tossing sand above the position of the ant and the sand thus cast fell toward the center and made the ant’s feet slip again. At last, her legs still scrambling, the hapless ant slipped into the center of the hole and thus into the jaws of the waiting ant lion who grabbed the ant and slammed it into the sides of the hole driving the ant lion’s jaws deeper into the struggling body of the ant. In a few seconds, she had been devoured.

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She-of-Many-Paths gasped and looked at Eagle Eyes whose large brown eyes locked with her own as she smiled a truer smile than She-of-Many-Paths had seen on the face of Eagle Eyes for quite awhile. 

“That’s amazing, Eagle Eyes, but how can this be? Ants can climb anything. They climb up trees! How can they slip and fail to escape this path that the ant lion desires them to take?” 

“Indeed! That is the question I asked myself! The ant lion is quite precise in the shape it creates, you see. It makes the sides of the hole precisely steep enough. If they were any shallower, the ant could escape. If they were any steeper, the grains of soil would slip of their own accord. As it is, the sides are stable, but only so long as even such a tiny creature as an ant does not tread on it. When that happens, the soil begins to slip and most such creatures fall into the center of such pits though a few do manage to escape.” 

Shadow-Walker had gotten down on the ground to observe as well. “That’s interesting all right. But you do know we have a battle approaching some time soon. We must prepare.”

“Indeed, Shadow-Walker, my thought exactly,” said Eagle Eyes. “You know that steep hill that overlooks the flat green valley by the aspen grove?” 

“Yes, a hill both steep and treacherous because of the small loose stones…oh!…are you thinking…?” questioned Shadow-Walker. 

“Yes! We can make it even more treacherous by adding even more such stones. Warriors very much prefer higher ground and very much to run downhill rather than uphill. Is this not true?”

Shadow-Walker could hardly contain his excitement now. “Yes! Yes! I see! We can contrive to have them run at us down this steep hill, thus carefully prepared. At the bottom of such a hill, they will think to see a great victory, but we will prepare our own jaws of death. Clever, Eagle Eyes!” 

“It’s a wonderful idea, Eagle Eyes!” She-of-Many-Paths was also excited. “How long will it take to prepare the hill with more loose stones?” 

“That part is already done. But I wanted to study further to see if I overlooked anything. And, I’ve already posted enough of the four-rock signs of danger so our own people in their travels here and there do not accidentally fall on this hill now so slippery.” Now, a genuine and full smile appeared on the face of Eagle Eyes. She called out, “Fleet-of-Foot! Come hither!” 

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True to his name, Fleet-of-Foot appeared momentarily. He saw the four of them and quickly comprehended the situation. “Ah, I see you’ve shared our plans. Did you tell them of the markings?”

She-of-Many-Paths asked, “Markings? What markings?”

Now Eagle Eyes laughed slightly. “Even though they call me Eagle Eyes, it was really Fleet-of-Foot who first noticed them. There are markings of charcoal on many trees near our guard posts. At first, we only saw one. Then, another. We thought perhaps some child was practicing his or her drawing skills, but they showed no creative variation and there were too many even for the most obsessive among us. We believe they were put there to guide our enemies. So, we added quite a few, many of which lead to the hill of slippery rocks. But we added others leading to the quicksand and that nasty briar patch of old blackberry bushes by the giant red boulder.” 

Eagle Eyes had a far-away look in her eyes. “I find it very interesting that a shallow slope may be traversed but as it grows steeper and steeper, at some point, it becomes impossible to climb or avoid falling. This gives me an idea about the broad fresh rapid river that grows among the willows and aspens near our center place. We may walk across such a river though many have slipped and none dare try at full flood. But perhaps we could change the shape of such a river so none might walk across. Cousin beaver sometimes builds a dam to change a stream into a lake. Perhaps, he could prove helpful. Can you join me, Fleet-of-Foot? Let us examine our stream.” Off went the two of them. 

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She-of-Many-Paths and She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives continued on their walk to encourage hearts and share knowledge. Shadow Walker said that he would stay behind to try to better understand how slope that is difficult to climb becomes slope that is impossible to climb and seek other new tools of warfare.

As the two women walked between encampments, She-of-Many-Paths grew silent, clearly lost in thought. At last, she sighed and turned to She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives and spoke quietly. “How does it come to pass that one so promising as ALT-R becomes a traitor? And, what of POND MUD? He was never the brightest amongst us, but he seemed to have a good heart. And, what are we to make of the Cupiditas? Is there no path to peace that does not require the destruction of enemies?” 

“I have been searching for just such a path as you speak of all my life. Indeed, many arguments among the Veritas, I have settled, even among the angry, so that no blood was shed and the people became whole again. Trust is much like a bridge. It takes skill and patience to build but only one raging flash flood to break it down and wash away all traces that it ever existed. Beyond the gathering of the corn and the singing of songs, we must continue to search — you may continue to search for such a path, if you so choose. I hope that you find a path without death that can lead from war to peace where I have failed. We may arrange circumstances in many ways to encourage truth and peace. In the end, however, ALT-R chose to feed the evil wolf within himself though I had hoped he would not. KAVA-NUT chose a similar path. POND MUD felt himself inferior in thinking and superior in physical strength so perhaps it is not surprising that he chose power over truth and to follow the devious and self-serving ways of ALT-R. POND MUD and ALT-R make a dangerous pair.

“As for the Cupiditas, so far as I can tell, their ways encourage the path of power over truth. There may be a few among them who long for a different and more harmonious path, but it would be difficult for any such person to follow the path of a true heart. I hope at long last that they may find value in emulating at least some of the ways of the Veritas. A people who rule themselves without regard to the truth may grow for a time just as a seedling might in a dark cave. But without sunlight, such as seedling will shrivel and die. Without truth, a people will also die one way or another. 

“We may encourage our cousins the rattlesnakes and bears not to attack us and mainly they are wise enough not to do so. But if they do, then sometimes we must kill to stay alive. This too is the way of life, after all. If we have erred by showing too much mercy to KAVA-NUT, ALT-R and POND MUD, we will pay a steep price indeed. 

“Listen well, She-of-Many-Paths, for I must ask you now a great favor and extract a great promise. I know that you and Shadow Walker are both wise and brave. You would gladly fight to the death to defend your home and your tribe and your friends. However, if you judge that the Veritas are to be wholly vanquished, promise me that you and Shadow Walker, will not fight to the death but instead leave this place and go elsewhere to find a new home. When you are numerous enough and strong enough, your children’s children’s children must be wise enough to know whether it becomes desirable to reclaim these sacred lands or to simply live where you are and prosper. That I cannot foresee. But you must survive and the stories of the Veritas must as well.”

“No. I will never abandon you and my friends. You ask too much. How could I…?” protested She-of-Many-Paths. 

“Yet ask I must. You know our ways. You know them well and you are wise beyond your years. And, you must become the seeds of a new tribe of the Veritas. Remember well the teachings. And, if by chance you are enslaved, you must still remember the teachings and pass them on secretly until time and circumstance permit you to reclaim your freedom and retake these sacred lands. You and Shadow Walker must not die but must instead ensure that our people and our ways survive. Promise me. You will find a path to victory at last, even if that path must of necessity begin in fleeing or enslavement.”  

She-of-Many-Paths shook her head. “It is much that you ask, She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives. Yet, I do see the wisdom of your words. Whether I can convince Shadow Walker, however, I do not know. Let us first work toward victory however.” 

“Indeed, I am hopeful. Though the Cupiditas are fierce fighters, I believe them too few to overcome us. Their entire society is based on power and their avoidance of the truth will inevitably be their own downfall. Whether that will happen soon or many seasons hence, we cannot foresee. We must therefore prepare for many contingencies. And, for that, you are indeed, well-suited, She-of-Many-Paths. Very well-suited indeed.”   

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Meanwhile, the Cupiditas made their own final preparations. NUT-PI, after careful consideration, had decided to put poison on the weapons of some of his favorite and most trusted warriors. These were the leaders of the three bands and their captains. Of course, he did not tell them he was putting poison on the weapons for fear that they would realize that this was how he had won his position of power in the first place. Rather the told them that he had imbued their weapons with a magic spell of power that would make their spears and arrows even stronger and more powerful. “Now, listen carefully, warriors! This spell of power will make your weapons more powerful but do not attempt to engage this power yourselves. It is a power that I alone can control. So keep your hands away from the tips of your spears and the tips of your arrows lest you ruin the magic.” He also admonished his special cadre of troops to keep the knowledge of the spell he had cast on their weapons to themselves and not to share what he had done with the other warriors. “Let them believe that it is only because I find favor in you and they will marvel at your strength and effectiveness.” 

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NUT-PI’s servants called the whole of the Cupiditas to come to hear the words of their great leader. 

“Hear me well, oh, people of the Cupiditas, who rightly own all that is in this valley farther than the eye can see. Too long have we shared these lands with the Veritas who prove themselves deceptive and unworthy at every turn. Now, we have contrived to destroy their warriors, steal their possessions, and enslave their women and children. Hurrah!” 

The crowd enthusiastically shouted “HURRAH!  Enslave them! Enslave them! Murder them! Murder them!” 

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NUT-PI smiled with pleasure at how easily led or misled were most of the Cupiditas. ALT-R shouted along with the rest, but secretly felt ashamed that his adopted tribe was so mindless in their obedience to NUT-PI. Then, he realized that he was manipulating POND MUD in much the same way. 

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NUT-PI continued. “We are stronger than the Veritas. And, we know where all their lookouts are. We will sneak in at dusk and kill all their lookouts. Then, right before dawn, we will attack on three fronts to overwhelm them and destroy them. We will have three armies attack on three paths. The first one to overrun their central village will have first pick of the women and children to enslave. But there will plenty of spoils for everyone. The Veritas have no idea we are even going to attack them. They stupidly feel confident that they outnumber us. Here, they are wrong. For I have used my power to summon allies to help us. The fierce warriors of the north will follow us in on the northern path to glory and the nomads to the south will follow us in on the southern path to glory. Why? Because of my brilliant negotiations with them. The fierce warriors of the north will gain by learning the way of the sharp barbed arrowhead from the enslaved Veritas and the nomads of the south will gain by learning the way of unleaking water casks from the enslaved Veritas.”

 

In truth, these very promises had been made. However, he had also promised the fierce warriors of the north that they could have most of the spoils of war including first pick of the women and children. He had made that same promise to the nomads of the south; namely, that they could have most of the spoils of war including first pick among the women and children. NUT-PI well knew that he could not keep both promises along with the promises made to his own people. That was a problem for another day, however. Right now, he needed to reassure his people and drive them to a killing frenzy. He led them in more chanting: “KILL THE VERITAS! ENSLAVE THE VERITAS! KILL THEM! ENSLAVE THEM!” 

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Thus, it came to pass that midday of the first empty moon beyond the summer solstice, nearly all of the Cupiditas warriors left their camp on a great march toward the lands of the Veritas, there to meet up with a large band of fierce warriors from the north. Those of the Cupiditas were led by INGO RICHES, though KAVA NUT was their guide. INGO RICHES carried a battle axe and a long spear enchanted by NUT-PI who was himself to lead the middle throng. INGO RICHES cared little for KAVA NUT whom he considered a very low person to so betray his own people. He did not realize that KAVA NUT, along with ALT-R and POND MUD had been banished from the Veritas for attempting to force themselves on Eagle Eyes and then lying about it. Yet he still felt contempt for such a man as would betray his own tribe, regardless of the circumstances. 

Thoughts of betrayal led INGO RICHES to think back once more to the contest he had witnessed between NUT-PI and CHOFM. Something about it bothered him. NUT-PI did not seem strong enough or well-trained enough to vanquish CHOFM though he had seen it with his own eyes. Indeed, there must be magic in NUT-PI. It was a magic that had been partly put into his own spear. NUT-PI had cautioned everyone not to touch the heads of the weapons which he had put under a spell. INGO RICHES felt he was warrior enough to use his spear quite effectively with or without magic. Perhaps, he thought, NUT-PI does not want to share the power of his magic with others. 

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Presently, the troop of warriors stopped to rest where they were to rendezvous with the fierce and formidable warriors of the north. INGO RICHES went off by himself a ways. He sat beside a crannied rock wall and looked carefully at his spear, particularly at the tip which was now supposedly imbued with magic. It occurred to him that he could grasp the tip and gain some of the magic for himself. NUT-PI may have told his leaders not to touch it simply because he didn’t want them to discover the true source of his power. Thus, in private, he lightly touched the tip. He didn’t feel anything unusual. It felt exactly as it always had. He felt nothing magical or powerful about it. He decided to grasp it more tightly. He still felt nothing magical or powerful. Perhaps it was all a lie? Maybe the magic only came out in the piercing. He decided to make the tiniest of pricks in the end of his little finger as an experiment. Perhaps then he would feel the magic. A tiny drop of blood appeared on his little finger. He shook his head. It felt just as he had thought it would, a tiny pain but no magic and no special power. 

Then, he shuddered with sudden excitement. He felt it! There was magic after all! This was the magical power that NUT-PI had not wanted them to discover. INGO RICHES felt more powerful than he had ever felt before. His muscles pulsed with power. No wonder, NUT-PI had won. He had used this power to overcome CHOFM! INGO RICHES couldn’t believe how powerful he now felt. Every muscle in his body seemed to want to contract all on its own. He didn’t even have to will them to move. But it was cramping. It was all cramping. He had cramps in his hands and biceps and calves and his thighs. He began to thrash violently and tried to cry out but couldn’t. He fell to the ground thrashing this way and that. He felt a terrible crushing pain in his chest and realized that NUT-PI’s magic was too powerful for him to contain. Perhaps NUT-PI really was the chosen one. INGO RICHES tried to scream for help but his jaws, along with the rest of his body, had turned to stone. He thrashed against the crannied wall where his hand chanced upon a small flower. Without willing it so, he grasped the flower tightly pulling it, root and all, to his chest. He stared up into the sky which had become an incredibly bright blue morphing into the pure white of distant stars. He realized he was about to die alone; that he had always been alone; that all of the Cupiditas were alone, each striving for more power than anyone else. He thought to himself, “truth is the real power. We will lose. We will always lose. I should have been born a Veritas.” 

Soon, a large throng of the fierce and formidable warriors of the north arrived at the camp as had been arranged. One among them spoke passably the tongue of the Cupiditas and asked to see the leader among the Cupiditas. “Where is NUT-PI?” 

The lead captain under INGO RICHES, named Troy-Paven, answered, “NUT-PI is leading the middle of our three attacks. Our leader is INGO RICHES who will return momentarily.” 

“Among our tribe, it is considered very rude not to have him here to greet us,” he said solemnly. “Find him. We must parley.” 

Troy-Paven beckoned to one of his underlings. “Go fetch INGO RICHES and ask him if it would please him to join us now as the fierce and formidable warriors of the north have arrived. He walked off over by that wall.” Troy-Paven thought it odd that INGO RICHES had not come when the northern warriors had arrived. They had made no secret of their arrival. INGO RICHES should have both seen and heard them and for that matter, smelled them as well, he thought, with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Momentarily, Troy-Paven’s underling returned, ashen-faced. “Well? I told you to bring INGO RICHES,” barked Troy-Paven. 

“Most honored Troy-Paven, might I have a moment to talk with you alone?”

“No! I told you…what is the problem? What did he tell you?” barked Troy-Paven even louder. He wanted to show the fierce and formidable warriors of the north that his men followed his orders completely. It was not going well. 

“Troy-Paven, my captain, INGO RICHES lies yonder by that crannied wall. Alas, he cannot speak or come hither because…because he is dead.”

At this, Troy-Paven leapt at his underling and struck him across the face with the blade of his hand. “Do not bring me such lies! Where is INGO-RICHES?!” 

“Oh, Sir, I speak the truth. He is dead, I know not how.” 

Again, Troy-Paven struck his hapless underling for delivering bad news to a superior, as was the customary way to react to bad news among the Cupiditas. Troy-Paven put extra energy into these blows however because he was being embarrassed in front of the fierce and formidable warriors of the north. 

“I will ask you one more time. This time. The truth. Or, I swear, I will kill you myself!” said Troy-Paven tonelessly. His jaw was clenched and his face was ashen. 

“I will fetch him, most noble one and he will tell you himself.” Off the man scurried. Troy-Paven shook his head and looked at the leader of the northern warriors and tilted his head as though to indicate that this was an unfortunate anomaly among the Cupiditas. Meanwhile, the visage of the northern leader remained stoic and unreadable. Soon, the hapless underling of Troy-Paven appeared dragging the twisted and lifeless body of INGO-RICHES whose claw-gripped hand still grasped the flower, root and all. 

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Troy-Paven stared uncomprehendingly. More of the fierce and formidable warriors from the north were gathering around trying to understand what was happening. Troy-Paven, up to now, had spent most of his career being a lackey for INGO-RICHES. Now, he found himself suddenly in charge of warriors without orders from INGO-RICHES. 

KAVA-NUT watched all this unfold. He thought about what might happen if fighting were to break out between the northern warriors and the Cupiditas. He did not really like fighting all that much in any case. He much preferred to overpower smaller women with the help of a friend or two. He decided this might be the right time to sneak off and meet up with ALT-R and POND MUD. He had, after all, some unfinished business with Eagle Eyes. Just as POND MUD had designs on She-of-Many-Paths.

As for ALT-R…Who did ALT-R fancy? POND MUD realized that he had never really asked himself that question before. He now realized upon reflection that whenever anyone brought up the topic, ALT-R had been very vague or had changed the subject. Oh, well, what did it matter? He decided to jog for a bit in order to put a longer distance between himself and the force he was supposed to be scouting for. But, he wondered: Who wants to be a scout? The scout would be the first one to be pierced with an arrow or spear. 

As he neared the land where the Veritas became more probable, he stopped jogging and climbed a nearby knoll. From here, he could see in the distance that warriors were again on the path behind him. Apparently, he thought, the tribes had devised a plan of attack and were again working together as planned. He wondered whether he should return in that case and excuse his apparent absence as being simply part of his duty as an advanced scout. On the other hand, he would still be expected to be leading and if he were discovered by the Veritas….after all, he had been banished and could be killed on sight. The warriors coming en masse would be much safer than he would be. 

KAVA-NUT looked back through the teachings he had learned from the Veritas and recalled the words of She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives who had been having them observe many different types of animals. She had summed up her message by saying, “There is always another way. Nature is infinitely clever in her variety and diversity. You can do the same with your thinking.” KAVA-NUT then recalled that She-of-Many-Paths had taken this lesson much to heart and began showing off with her answers about just how many other ways she could think of. So, I will be safer, he thought, if I can better camouflage myself and stay away from the paths I marked. Then, I have the best chance of meeting up with ALT-R and POND MUD after they’ve taken the middle and southern paths and most of the fighting is done. After deciding on this new non-path path, he jogged down from the knoll and turned down the path and tore a few leafy branches from seedlings contriving to adorn himself with the branches, thus becoming less visible generally and less recognizable to the Veritas. He hoped that the warriors behind him would assume he had gone down the marked path from the evidence of these recently torn bushes. But KAVA-NUT had other plans and he jogged back the other direction behind a thick copse of birches. He was now angling in toward the middle path. Here at least, the warriors were all to be of the Cupiditas and they would be following orders and there would be no need for coordinating two tribes. 

For a time KAVA-NUT turned due west toward the central place of the Veritas, tracing out a path he reckoned to be well south of the one that the northern force was taking and yet well north of the central path. For this reason, he was quite surprised to find one of the AGAM marks that they had carefully placed to guide the forces to elude the guardians and then come behind them and ambush them. 

This must be the work of ALT-R who had reconnoitered the middle path. KAVA-NUT was quite sure that he himself had not placed it here. In another few hundred yards, he encountered another such mark. KAVA-NUT looked back through the forest trying to get a clear look at distant mountains to better orient himself. He found himself filled with uncertainty for he could not tell where he was from his few glimpses of mountain peaks. He could not believe he had strayed this far south to cross ALT-R’s path, yet here he was. It had to be ALT-R’s path, he reasoned. He saw no evidence at all that they had yet come by here. If I simply wait here for them, they will eventually meet up with me. It would soon prove too dark to advance much anyway. KAVA-NUT felt bone tired. He realized that had not felt really good since…since trying to convince Eagle Eyes that she loved him. And, she did. Of that he was sure. She may not know it, he thought, but she does. And she will. Because I will make her. And POND MUD will have his way with She-of-Many-Paths. She-of-Many-Paths. 

Hah! If Many-Paths were here right now, she would rattle on about other paths of thought and how the first few ideas that occur to you are likely wrong. And she would continue and it would be annoying. It’s annoying to think of so many paths. He whispered aloud: “Damn her!” For despite his will, he found himself considering yet another explanation. The Veritas might have discovered these markings and put false markers in various places to confuse the advancing armies. If that were so, he should return and warn the soldiers…but it would only make sense if we were not there to lead the soldiers. It wouldn’t do any good to put false markers because I would lead them to the correct ones which I just placed there. Again, the image of Eagle Eyes came to him, unbidden. “Damn you! Leave me alone!” He had spoken aloud and spoken loudly. He squatted motionless with his camouflage boughs in place. He heard nothing. In the stillness, it occurred to him that the Veritas would have no way to know that The Three would all serve as scouts. 

He waited patiently all evening and all night, but no-one came. Sure enough, it must be a false trail he was on. He ignored the marks and homed toward the center of the Veritas people. I have a date of destiny with Eagle Eyes, he thought. Then, it suddenly occurred to him that Ealge Eyes might be killed in battle long before he had his chance to subdue her. Walking alone, he made good time and arrived mid-day at the edge of the Veritas central place. Here there was a wide stream of fast-flowing fresh water with large aspens and willows lining both the banks. And, sure enough, at the edge of this was none other than Eagle Eyes! The fool was playing with rocks at the edge of the small river like some child. You’re under attack, he wanted to shout. How can you be so stupid? You need me to control you, and that I will. Amazingly, she was all by herself just like last time. He dropped his boughs and ran at her fill tilt, splashing through the shallow stream. She seemed frozen on the spot and made no attempt to flee. 

“Well, my sweet one” he yelled. “You and I have a date with destiny. We have unfinished business.” He strode toward her confidently for he outweighed her easily by half again. Eagle Eyes stood and faced him. 

“Indeed we do.” Then KAVA-NUT heard her scream. She must be terrified, he thought, joyfully. He came up to her and grabbed her with both of his long arms and wrapped them tightly around her, pinning her arms to her side. “I was banished because of you, Eagle Eyes. And now I will have my justice at last.”

Eagle Eyes continued to scream in a high-pitched thin tone. Then her eyes flicked upward and she looked back down to stare at KAVA-NUT. “Your justice? I don’t think so. Justice should be blind.” 

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“Don’t talk nonsense Eagle Eyes. Now, lie down on your back and learn…WHAT?!” KAVA-NUT let go of Eagle Eyes and fell to his knees screaming in pain as both his hands shot up to his right eye. Then, as quick as the beat of a birds wing he felt another searing hot pain in his left eye. The last thing he saw was the beak of an eagle or hawk slashing toward his eye. He screamed so loudly as to be nearly incoherent though many heard these words. “NO! NO! NO! Oh, I am blind! You did this Eagle Eyes! You did this! I will still have you, you witch! Wait till the other two armies come! We will destroy you! And I will have you yet!” 

Out from behind an ancient willow, Fleet-of-Foot walked slowly toward him, bow drawn. “I don’t think so.” 

“Nor I,” said Eagle Eyes who had now approached KAVA-NUT with her hunting knife drawn. “You are banished and any of the Veritas may kill you. But they have left that chore to me.” 

“You’d better be nice to me! I … how the hell did you tear my eyes out? Did you turn yourself into an Eagle? I will kill you. KILL YOU! My friends will be here soon. Not just ALT-R and POND MUD but nomads from the south and fierce, formidable fighters from the far north. WE WILL OWN YOU! We will OWN you! We will…my eyes. Oh, my eyes. My eyes!” 

Fleet-of-Foot put away his bow and put a hammer lock on KAVA-NUT, nearly dislocating the latter’s shoulder. Working together, Fleet-of-Foot and Eagle Eyes quickly tied KAVA-NUT’s hands behind him. 

Eagle Eyes said, “Come, we do not want you polluting our stream.” Eagle Eyes and Fleet of Foot decided to come put KAVA-NUT on display for all to see. He was set upon a high bar, his hands still tied behind him. The trained hawk of Eagle Eyes had not quite had his fill for he had fledgelings to help feed. Periodically, the hawk returned to feed on the eyes and face of KAVA-NUT. Tearing a piece of meat off with its sharp beak and claws, he would return to the nest where the eager young squawked in delight. Indeed, justice was served. 

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The Veritas, having moved their guard posts and arranged for bird call communication, were aware of the northern army which marched noisily and clumsily toward what they thought were the guard posts of the Veritas. Without any local guide, and with a path to victory marked by many false trails, the northern army, under no clear leadership floundered into the forest and became little more than a meandering mob. Every so often, one of their number would fall into a trap or be shot through with a poison arrow, but no archer was ever seen. 

The leader of the northern warriors and Troy-Paven had discovered that NUT-PI had promised the same spoils and first choice in slaves to both the Cupiditas and the northern warriors. Troy-Paven decided not to argue this point however as his own men were greatly outnumbered by the fierce and formidable warriors of the north. Once they joined up with the middle army which was where the main force of warriors of the Cupiditas were, they would be in the majority and then, they could argue about who got what for their efforts. First, they must work together to enslave the Veritas. As more and more warriors were suddenly assailed by an unseen enemy, the leader of the Northerners became more and more inclined to leave off this war. They had no real quarrel with the Veritas. Often, they had, in fact, made mutually beneficial trades with them. He also found it personally offensive to interact with the Cupiditas who so relied on hierarchy and protocol as to be stupidly inflexible in battle. The fierce and formidable warriors of the north believed in fighting in an individualistic and heroic way. The Cupiditas believed in a strict hierarchy of command and control that was wildly unsuited to the current operation. It soon transpired, that at the insistence of Troy-Paven, the troops had followed the “marked trail” to victory into a briar patch and then into quicksand. The leader of the fierce and formidable soldiers of the north, named URDU-TEA, decided he had had enough and called for his men to follow him back to their own village. 

Troy-Paven knew that if NUT-PI found out he had let their ally slip away, it would be certain death. To face down this general would probably be the same. But what could he offer him to stay? 

“We go.” said URDU-TEA and his men began to follow him. 

“Wait! Don’t go! You can’t leave. NUT-PI will destroy you when he is done with the Veritas.”

“Where is this NUT-PI? I have not seen him. And where is this ‘scout’ who was supposed to guide us? What became of him? And, why did your own leader fall dead in your midst? You are not an army. You are a joke. We will let you live. Attack the Veritas. Don’t attack the Veritas. In truth, we don’t really care. But either way, your path and our path are no longer the same. Try to stop us and you will all die. We GO!” 

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Troy-Paven’s jaw dropped but he had nothing to say. He frowned and thought: What had happened with KAVA-NUT anyway? We’ve now spent countless hours trying one false path and then another. We had yet to find a single occupied guard post and certainly not surprised anyone. If anything, we are the ones being slaughtered by surprise. INGO-RICHES was right when he had echoed the words of NUT-PI: “Who can trust a traitor?” Yet, INGO-RICHES lay dead. KAVA-NUT had disappeared. 

Troy-Paven could not believe he had not realized this earlier:  KAVA-NUT was not a traitor! He had killed INGO-RICHES and laid false trails at the behest of the Veritas! Then, he had run off so they wouldn’t discover either of his crimes. Troy-Paven now saw a clear course of action. He must head due south and try to warn the middle wave of warriors which was being led by NUT-PI himself. They were all walking into a carefully set trap laid by the Veritas. He let the fierce and formidable warriors of the north pass without incident. When they were out of earshot, he ordered his men that they would now be heading due south to meet up with the larger force of the Cupiditas. He did not share why he thought this was a good idea nor his insight that the trio of so-called traitors must really still be working on behalf of the Veritas. He and he alone wanted to take the credit for bringing this critical intelligence to their glorious leader.    

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Myths of the Veritas: The Tale of Three Blind Mice

15 Monday Nov 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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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

Inside Trump Tower

11 Monday Oct 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

essay, politics, Resist, Resistance, treason, USA

It is a good thing to try to put oneself in someone else’s shoes. We shouldn’t fool ourselves about how well we can do that, but for some situations, we do a pretty good job. For example, if we watch a movie and someone gets attacked by a Great White Shark, we know we would feel pretty terrified and it’s a fairly good assumption that they are going to be terrified. 

Let’s imagine how it feels inside the experience of a person who lies constantly and absurdly about how wonderful and great he is; how beloved he is by everyone; how he is the best at everything. Let’s say he declares himself to be a wobble-free genius. Can you imagine how empty he feels inside? He believes himself to be utterly incapable of anything which is why he insists he are successful at everything. 

I saw the results of such a pathetic hypothetical person once up close and personal in real life. Trump took over a golf course that I was a member at. He made some nice improvements. At that point, I didn’t know him from Adam. But some people at the club did and they quit. Some of those people had been former club champions. So what does Trump do? He orders that the plaques be redone with his name as club champions for those years. He not only had not won those tournaments. He had not even played in them. 

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Just imagine how you would feel looking at a trophy with your name on it knowing full well that you had done nothing to deserve it. Would you feel proud or ashamed? My guess is that you would feel ashamed. This false “accomplishment” tarnishes every real accomplishment you ever had or that you ever will have. This is a normal response. 


But Trump, for whatever reason, has such subterranean self-esteem that any semblance of praise, however false or ill-deserved, feels to him as a seeming life-saving desperate drop of moisture for the shriveled old soul that lives within the shriveled old body. If someone flatters him and he knows it’s flattery, he values that more than he would an honest complement. Because to him, opinions about his abilities or behaviors don’t interest him in the slightest. He’s not going to change because of feedback from this or that politician, family member, thinker, advisor, etc. But he just wants the shadow of true praise that is not based upon fact at all but upon power. 

He failed as a businessman. He failed as a family member. He failed his own honor when he dodged the draft a half dozen times. He proved himself a racist by calling for the death penalty for four black youths — who it turned out were innocent. Trump didn’t really know anything about the case. He just wanted to take advantage of an opportunity to put his “hat in the ring” for being a racist candidate. Just in case anyone slept through Act 1 due to jet lag or too much wine or whatever, Act 2 was ranting and raving about Obama being an African. “I’ve got proof and I’ll show it the day after the day after the day after the day after….” And, let’s think about it. Here’s a guy — Trump — whose known as a golfer, a playboy and a real estate developer. He’s on record supporting many liberal policies like being pro-abortion. Why would he really care whether Obama was born in Africa? This guy who dodged the draft six times and is already cheating on his taxes suddenly becomes outraged at a particular part of the Constitution that says you must be born in America to be President. Seem plausible? 

In case the fifteen foot high blinking neon-Nazi sign from Act 1 wasn’t bright enough, let’s put on the fifty foot high blinking neon-Nazi sign in Act 2. Oh, and if that doesn’t do it for you. I mean, if you were really really zonked on for Acts 1 and 2, don’t you worry! The message of this play is simple and if you didn’t notice the neon-Nazi signs before, now they flashing out a new warning on the subway walls: “Civil War! Then, make me dictator of AmeriKKKa!” 

It’s evil and it’s horrible, but it’s also pathetic. Imagine how empty and worthless TFG must feel that he wants the support of people, like him, who derive their sense of worth from something like their supposed race (itself a fiction) or their gender or their inherited wealth — and not from anything they’ve ever accomplished. 

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At this point, an image occurs to me. A black hole, metaphorical but also quite literal, exist at the very center of TFG. In order to fill it, he is compelled to suck every shred of truth and goodness from everyone around him. More and more people get sucked into the vortex. Who knows? Maybe in some parallel universe, it all comes out as beautiful anti-matter. That may be nice for them. Over there. In that universe. 

But for us, back here on the earth we’re familiar with, it’s just plain out — terrible. It exacerbates the emptiness disease that TFG has become. It corrupts all those around him. They all know they’re lying and they each know each of the others is lying. Just like the false championships, if anyone famous goes along with the big lie, that action tarnishes everything good these Senators and Representatives and Newscasters ever did. It outweighs everything from the day, 40 years ago, as a cub scout, they helped someone cross the street to the day that they helped craft significant legislation. All of that is gone. And, for what? Nothing. That’s the real hell of it for them. For nothing. 

All of them realize that if there is a coup, none of them will ever be safe again. And, they’ve already pledged their allegiance to the dictator. So, they have no real power. They have to do whatever the oligarchs tell Trump to make them do. They were afraid they’d lose power if they acted ethically; so instead, they acted unethically and as a result lost every shred of power. It’s a great dramatic thread for a farce. Unfortunately, it’s embedded in a real tragedy. And that kind of takes the fun out of it, at least for me. 

They could, theoretically, have a great awakening and decide as one to throw off the shackles of the oligarchs and rejoin the difficult game of government by democracy. They would have more power than they ever had before because they would be free to work creatively and solve actual problems with actual work. They would help build a better world for their children and for everyone’s children to live in. They would certainly feel cleaner. That would be something that they could be proud of; that they wouldn’t mind the history books touting; a legacy for grandchildren. 

I wonder how the Nazis who were still alive in Germany after the war explained their role to their grandchildren. 

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———————————-

Trumpism is a new religion 

The Ailing King of Agitate

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: Wednesday 

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

What about the butter dish?

At Least he’s our monster

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Donnie Boy Gets his Name on a Tennis Trophy

Donnie Boy Takes a Blue Ribbon for Spelling

Antifa? 

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Come back to the light

Author Page on Amazon

Dear Media:

10 Wednesday Feb 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

America, coup, Impeachment, traitor, treason, USA, violence

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Please do not quote or summarize or repeat what the likes of Ted Crews, Minorlee Greene, or #MoscowMitch say. Their words mean nothing.  They have worked to overthrow our democracy. They are not interested in fair trials. They are not interested in the rule of law. They are not interested in fair elections. They are not interested in taking their oath of office seriously. 

They are interested in one and only one thing: power. They want power in order to line their own pockets and decide what other people can do in their private lives. They have zero interest in governing, solving America’s problems, or listening to what liberals, Democrats, Independents or experts have to say. 

Yes, they vibrate their vocal cords. Yes, they move their lips and jaws to form sounds that remind people of actual words. But their words mean nothing. 

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Their word means nothing. 

When they take a solemn oath to defend America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, they don’t mean it.

When they take an oath to have a fair trial, they don’t mean it. 

When they say that a Supreme Court Justice should not be confirmed during the last year of a President’s term, they don’t mean it. 

When they say that tax reductions for the rich will benefit everyone, they don’t mean it. 

When they say that they think the attempted coup and the attack on the Capitol was despicable, they don’t mean it. 

They don’t mean anything they say. 

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They bark and snarl and whine and, I grant you, it sounds a lot like actual words. 

But it’s different. They use these barks that sound like words only trying to lie, cheat, steal from Americans and to confuse enough voters and donors to get votes and money in order to stay in power. 

In America, we have a long tradition of trying to be “fair” to “both sides” of a debate, discussion, campaign, election, etc. And, given that you have two sides playing by the rules, that is a great tradition. But if only one side is playing by the rules and the other side subverts and avoid the rules, that is no longer a relevant tradition.

If two sides are both arguing in good faith based on facts, then presenting those facts with various analogies and analyses in order persuade people that their plan, position, or platform is superior, it is good to make sure people hear both sides or all sides of those arguments in order to make a better-informed decision. That’s fine.

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But if one side is telling the truth and one side makes up stuff out of thin air, it is not the duty of the media to repeat both sides. If one side is using words in order to destroy our democracy, it is not the duty of the media to repeat both sides. If one side is on board with a Crime Family and pushing for an absolute dictatorship, it is not the job of the media to repeat their lies.

When a patient has cancer, the ethical doctor limits treatments to those treatments that kill the cancer cells or improve the health of their patient. They don’t give medicine in “fair proportion” — giving equal doses to those treatments that help the patient and those treatments that help the cancer cells. 

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When a general leads his troops in a war, he or she doesn’t go out of his way to make sure the enemy has just as much ammunition as their own troops so they can have a “fair fight.” They call in air support to bomb the enemy. They don’t ask their bombers to be sure to they are dropping shells equally on both sides. 

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The likes of Ted Cruise, #MoscowMitch, and all the other Trumputinists who tried to overthrow our government by refusing to certify the election; the likes of Trumputinists who attend a trial and snub the entire process of prosecuting the most egregious campaign of actions that any President has taken in the entire history of the nation are not involved in true debate, true discussion, true dialog, or true governing. 

No.

They are interested in one thing: power. And they will do anything and everything to get that power — including overthrowing the duly elected government through violence.

Repeating the lies of violence-loving traitors is not part of the duty of the media. 

You might think that it is okay so long as you add the tag line that what they say is contested or even a lie. Sadly, however, that doesn’t really do the trick. Once the lie is presented to people enough times, it will “stick” in some people’s memory. (See this post about the “primacy effect” in human memory). 

https://petersironwood.com/2020/08/21/the-primacy-effect-the-destroyers-advantage/

What betrayal of trust in all of American history rivals the relentless campaign of lies, conspiracy theories and violence perpetrated by Trump and supported by disingenuous, treasonous Trumputinists? There is nothing close. Presenting the so-called opinions, views, musings, thoughts, etc. of the Trumputinists is not the duty of the media any more than it is to repeat the delusional lies of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, or Kim Jong-un. 

We are not having a dialog, or a debate, or a discussion, or a contest with Trumputinists. They want to destroy our country. Don’t be fooled into pretending to have a debate with them. This is an attack on our country every bit as much as the sacking of the Capitol by the British in the War of 1812. Trumputinism is an attack on America every bit as much as Pearl Harbor. Trumputinism is an attack on America every bit as much as were those who flew planes into the World Trade Towers.



—————————————————-

Trumpism is a new religion.

Where does your loyalty lie? 

A query on quislings. 

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions. 

The Ailing King of Agitate.

Try the Truth. 

Freedom of Speech is Not a License to Kill

09 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

America, crime, Democracy, Senate, treason, USA

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People have debated what, precisely, the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution means. But no-one to my knowledge has argued that the “right to bear arms” means that you can therefore shoot dead whomever you want. That is not a “freedom” under any reasonable definition. 

What would be the consequence of simply saying that under our Constitution, you can kill whomever you want? Anarchy. Chaos. Such a state of affairs would certainly not be conducive to an economic recovery, controlling the pandemic, or “domestic tranquility.” The Second Amendment also doesn’t mean that you can go kill people provided you think you are justified. The fact that you believe you are right does not mean you are right. If you do own a gun, you have a responsibility to use it wisely. You can own a car. But that doesn’t give you the right to drive however you damned well feel like. It doesn’t give you the right to go as fast as you want and it certainly doesn’t give you the right to kill people with your car. Similarly, you can own a home. But owning your own home doesn’t mean you can set up an opium den or a crack house there. With rights come responsibilities.

So it is as well with the “Freedom of Speech.” You have the right to make arguments for your point of view, even if that view is not popular. But, as nearly everyone realizes, that does not mean you have the freedom to stand up in a crowded theater (should they ever exist again) and scream “FIRE!” at the top of your lungs. If you did, and people were trampled to death in the panicked rush to get out, you would rightly be held liable for their deaths. 

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That is not the only restriction on your “Freedom of Speech.” You cannot visit someone, sneak a bottle of vodka out of their liquor cabinet while they aren’t looking, pour the Absolute down the drain, and replace the contents with wood alcohol, and then sneak it back into the liquor cabinet. You cannot knowing sell horse meat as venison. You cannot lie about your age in order to register to vote or buy alcohol or firearms. 

You cannot convince your neighbor that wood alcohol will prevent COVID (it won’t and it’s poison) and then let them act accordingly. It is certainly not ethical, if someone has the symptoms of an appendicitis, to tell them not to worry because doctors just perform operations to make money and that instead, they should simply take a laxative (this can easily result in a burst appendix followed by sepsis and death). It is also probably illegal to do so, even if you sincerely, but wrongly believe that taking a laxative will cure an appendicitis.

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Suppose your friend has a two year old with a nasty looking wart on their hand. Suppose you convince your friend, that you can simply cut off the child’s hand with a meat cleaver and that the next day, a new hand will grow back and it will be perfect — no wart. Your friend is rather stupid to believe you, but that doesn’t mean you have no responsibility in the matter. You cannot successfully argue in court that you were “merely executing your right to free speech.” 

It is not okay to simply spread lies because there are other people spreading the same lies. With Freedom of Speech comes the responsibility to check up on the veracity of what you say, write, or tweet. If your intention is to mislead people into harming or killing someone, you will be held liable. 

Sometimes, deciding what is true is difficult. In the case of my convincing you that your child’s hand will grow back, you could use logic, or experience, or seek out the expertise of medical doctors. Some people have not been educated to take these steps. That is sad, but if someone is misled into committing a crime, a mentally competent adult doing the misleading and the mentally competent adult who has been misled are both liable, even if both of them have been misled by misinformation on the Internet. That is why it is so important not to spread misinformation. 

Sometimes such misinformation is spread with the best of intentions. People may actually believe that people with red hair are devils in disguise and that they are all hell-bent on destroying the earth. That still doesn’t make it all right for you to kill red-haired people nor to spread lies about them that results in someone else killing red-haired people. If you spread your belief and that action harms other people, you are not somehow exonerated because you believed the lie that you spread. 

There is, however, a category of misinformation still worse than spreading deadly lies without checking up on them. 

That happens when people who know better, such as Ted Cruz, spread lies that they know are lies in order to gain political power. He was valedictorian in his high school class and has degrees from Princeton and Harvard Law School. He has both the knowledge and the intelligence to know that he was lying about election results. Unless someone was drugging him without his knowledge or he has a brain tumor, he knowingly and cravenly tried to overthrow the most recent Presidential election. And he did so in the most cravenly and cowardly way possible: by intentionally and cynically rousing others to violence. Everyone who died in DC as a result of the Sedition Riot has their blood on his hands. 

What he did, and others of his ilk, is not the exercise of free speech any more than screaming “FIRE!!” In a crowded theater is exercising free speech. Cruz’s rabble rousing is no more free speech than my robbing a bank at gunpoint is a “free speech” demonstration of my objection to wealth inequality. Cruz knows full well that Donald Trump lost the 2020 election, and by quite a bit. Cruz knows that there was no wide-spread election fraud. Cruz knew full well that the President’s lies on the subject had predisposed an angry mob to believe his lies and act on them.



This was not the first time that Ted Cruz had egregiously lied in public life. Before the Senate impeachment trial of Donald J. Trump, he swore an oath for a fair trial. Then, he joined other GOP Senators to refuse to hold a fair trail; refusing to call witnesses and refusing to subpoena documents. Leaving Trump in office has led to hundreds of thousands of needlessly dead Americans. Those deaths are on the heads of Donald J. Trump, but also on the heads of Senators who swore to hold a fair trial and then made no attempt to do so.

There are many lies that have emanated from Ted Cruz — a man who is a United States Senator. His lies meant to incite a riotous attack on our democracy were not the first of his lies. But they should be the last. 

He should be ejected from the Senate and criminally prosecuted for inciting to riot and for treason.

Our founders knew that a would-be dictator, such as Donald J. Trump, would be a danger to our democracy. They provided for that eventuality. Sadly, they failed to anticipate the astounding level of cowardice that could be displayed by people such as Ted Cruz. I suppose it’s understandable. After all, these founders had just engaged in a war against the much more powerful and better trained British. And, they had won. They didn’t all agree with each other, but they were not a bunch of craven cowards who would sell their family for a moldy table scrap of a would-be dictator’s affection. 

Cowardly sycophants of that ilk belong in prison; not in the United States Senate. 

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——————————————

https://petersironwood.com/2019/11/24/beware-of-sheep-in-wolves-clothing/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/12/22/essays-on-america-a-query-on-quislings/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/04/ambition/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/03/17/the-truth-train/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/05/03/timeline/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/08/05/the-ailing-king-of-agitate/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/12/14/how-the-nightingale-learned-to-sing/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/02/12/cancer-always-loses-in-the-end/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/05/11/absolute-is-not-just-a-vodka/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/05/28/where-does-your-loyalty-lie/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/08/21/the-primacy-effect-the-destroyers-advantage/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/10/06/ramming-your-head-into-a-brick-wall-does-not-make-you-a-hero/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/07/11/plans-for-us-some-gruesome/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/07/11/captain-donny-boy-steers-the-titanic-luckily-the-iceberg-was-a-liberal-hoax/

https://petersironwood.com/2020/09/02/oxymorons-of-the-mango-mussolini/

https://petersironwood.com/2017/01/09/trumpism-is-a-new-religion/

https://petersironwood.com/2019/12/19/essays-on-america-rejecting-adulthood/

Author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

USA

Essays on America: A Query on Quislings

22 Tuesday Dec 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

America, Democracy, Dictatorship, IMPOTUS, traitor, treason, USA

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Case 1: 

You own a dog. You love your dog. And you know your dog loves you. 

Your neighbor, on the other hand, you do not love. 

But you tolerate the guy despite his odd habits. 

Then, one day, your neighbor comes over and shoots your dog dead. 

In court, he explains that bullets only kill evil dogs. Bullets will pass through good dogs without harm. In fact, he claims he was doing you a favor, because an evil dog can appear like a good dog and then kill you in your sleep. And, as it turns out, he knows this is true because he found this out on the Internet. Then he heard it on Sketchy News Channel. He joined a group called “Bullets are Truth” on a social media site called “Parlez Vous Tromperie” which has cool pictures of scantily clothed acrobats all around the edges. 

Your friend is an adult. He went to high school. He came from a reasonable home. He was not on drugs when he murdered your dog. He is not certifiably insane. He insists he was doing you a favor. He was operating, of course, on the basis of misinformation.

It doesn’t matter. 

He killed your dog. 

The fact that he did it based on false information makes no difference in how you feel nor does it make a difference in the eyes of the law. The false information he believed in makes no sense and is easily disproven. It doesn’t matter that thousands of people were duped into believing the same nonsense.

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Case 2. 

You own a dog. You love your dog. 

Same neighbor. Same result. He shot and killed your dog. 

Why?

When the truth at last comes out, it turns out that your spouse called him up and through sobs and hysterical screams, managed to squeak out that the dog had been bitten by a bat and though they had thought little of it at the time, the dog was now rabid and about to attack the children where they were all playing in the yard. She said she knew you had a gun and could you please save her children before it was too late!

Turns out your spouse always hated the dog and the neighbor. After the call, she smiled a very self-satisfied smile at her acting performance. Then, she let your dog out to play, but not before squirting whipped cream all over his muzzle. 

When your neighbor came into the yard he saw your dog charging toward the kids and apparently foaming at the mouth. 

He killed your dog. He did it on the basis of misinformation. 

After all the facts come out, you’ll probably still be pretty PO’d at your neighbor, but you’d be a lot more PO’d at your spouse! 

One crucial difference between Case 1 and Case 2 is that in Case 1, your neighbor had plenty of time to verify the veracity of the claim that bullets would pass “harmlessly” through the body of a “Good Dog.” In Case 2, your neighbor could have reasonably thought that he had zero time to do anything but save your children. In Case 1, your neighbor’s belief was absurd. In Case 2, your neighbor believed something unlikely to be true, but it wasn’t physically impossible. Dogs can catch rabies. And if a rabid dog bites a child, that’s really bad for the child.

What do you think are appropriate punishments in these two cases?



Case 3.

Case 3 is just like Case 1 except that your neighbor comes and shoots your kids. He has all the same excuses. He has all the same misinformation as in Case1. 

What do you think would be an appropriate punishment for your neighbor? How about the people who put the information on the Internet?

Or, perhaps you think all should be forgiven because he was misinformed?



Case 4.

Your neighbor relies on misinformation on TV and internet sites to engage in treasonous behavior toward America.

The minimum sentence for treason is five years in a Federal Penitentiary. 

The maximum penalty is death. 

What do you think is an appropriate price for committing treason when the traitor does it based on an absurd conspiracy theory — one that he sincerely believes?

———————————————


Plans for US; some GRUesome

Ramming your Head into a Brick Wall doesn’t Make you a Hero.

Transcript of Mystery Conversation

A Profound and Utter Failure

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie? 

My Cousin Bobby.

That Fatal Flaw

06 Friday Nov 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

betrayal, coronavirus, COVID19, fiction, GRU, KGB, pandemic, Putin, treason

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Note to readers: Have you been wondering what happened to Dmitry? I have. You remember, Dmitry, don’t you? He was the Russian GRU officer who first came up with the idea of subverting large amounts of the the GOP into becoming a death cult. Needless to say, he initially met with a — what to call it? — a red wave of skepticism. But Dmitry had numbers and math models to back up his bold plan.

After the plan was approved by Vlad himself, the main implementation sticking point appeared to be finding anyone depraved enough to be traitor enough to kill a quarter million of their own people. It turned out, there were such people in America. Soon they began to focus the efforts on someone who was both a profound failure and who had an overblown opinion of themselves. And, when I say, “overblown”, I don’t just mean the garden variety of “overblown” wherein a dandelion insists he’s really a yellow rose. Oh, no. I mean the galactic variety of “overblown” wherein a small asteroid…a teeny asteroid imagines itself … really nothing more than a small stone floating around in space imagines itself to be of U Y Scuti size! That size of over-blown.

As we know, provided that at least occasionally we poke our heads outside the Fox News bubble, the pandemic is having its third wave in America — the biggest one yet. And, it is largely thanks to the efforts of #45 and his enablers. (For real!) And, that means, it is largely thanks to the efforts of Dmitri (fiction). 

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com


Of course, I’m not too happy about that. In truth, I also wouldn’t be happy if it were a million Russian citizens who needlessly died (or those from any other country on earth). Dmitry may or may not have had second thoughts about killing a million Americans. If he did, he didn’t share it with me. You and I would both understand that he would be greatly rewarded for his patriotic efforts on behalf of Putin’s ambitions to weaken or destroy the United States of America. So, let’s go check in on Dmitri and discover what his reward was for his innovative attack on America. 

—————————

Just as the Commissar arranged, Dmitry was the last one to enter the conference room. A broad grin broke out on Dmitry’s face as he realized what was happening. The Commissar had arranged a celebration, complete with flags and bunting. 

Photo by Artem Saranin on Pexels.com

“Why today?” Muttered Dmitry and immediately realized because America was drowning in new cases — breaking 100,000/day. 

The Commissar himself poured shots for everyone. Dmitry noted the brand and raised his eyebrows. This was the good stuff, he noted to himself. 

Dmitry greatly appreciated the gesture. Ilya, in particular, gave him a very inviting smile. Even Olga raised her glass and mouthed the words acknowledging that he had been right. 

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

After the toast, and the synchronous clapping, Dmitry walked up to the dais and took the mike. He beamed and bowed and gestured for silence.

“This was a team effort. And I say we toast the leader of our team, the man we affectionately call “The Commissar.” Dmitri held his glass aloft. A few other toasts were offered and the din in the room grew correspondingly. Dmitry glanced at the clock. Hours before quitting time, and most folks were already impaired. He enjoyed a shot, but he didn’t really relish being impaired. His current buzz was plenty. Too much in fact. He decided to sneak away and check to see what his web crawlers and sentiment analysis programs had turned up. 

He turned suddenly. The large beefy hand of The Commissar came down heavily on his shoulder. “Hey! Congratulations again, Dmitry. Now. I need to see you in my office.” 

The Commissar gestured to a chair for Dmitry and he himself walked around his desk and sat in his appropriately more comfortable version. He enjoyed the plushness. The Commissar chuckled as he recalled that line from Animal Farm, “all are equal but some are more equal than others.” He smiled at Dmitry and wordlessly arose and sauntered over to his private reserve where he kept the really good vodka. He swung around with two shot glasses and handed one to Dmitry.

“Dmitry. You should be proud. Here’s to you!” The Commissar tossed his glass back and Dmitry did the same. 

“Oh, my God! That’s good! Thank you, Commissar!” 

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

“Dmitry, It’s nothing. You have come to the attention of Putin himself! He has a special assignment for you — something he says will require a combination of discipline, mathematical brilliance, and out of the box thinking. Well, you’re it. I have no idea what the situation is, but you were asked for specifically and by name! Congratulations! Sorry, I don’t have more details, but I think you’ll like this part. It’s on the Caspian! You’re going to have your own damned dacha there! I’m more than a bit jealous, but you deserve it! Hey! Look at the time! You’ve got to get back to your apartment and pack. I’ll arrange to send on your stuff here. The way things usually work, your contact will come by and have tickets for you. I won’t even find out specifically who you’ll be working for! Your talent has been noticed. Go. And Congratulations!” 

Dmitry stuttered, “Are you… ? Really? This is so … sudden. I mean, I’m not going to say I’m not flattered or protest some false modesty, but … shouldn’t I stay and take Operation SuperSpreader to its logical conclusion.” 

The Commissar shrugged. “It’s not my decision. Sorry. I don’t think we have much choice here. Just go get yourself ready. And sober. Your contact will be there shortly. Sorry, I don’t have more info. It’s obviously top secret. Beyond my clearance level. We’ll be okay here. You’ve done an excellent job — a generous job of sharing your expertise. We’ll be fine. GO! I’ll let your co-workers know what’s happening.” 

Dmitry frowned. He looked at the blank poker face of his boss. He glanced at the party which had not diminished in intensity during his absence. If anything, they were becoming more boisterous. OK. The Caspian! That did sound nice. Moscow was already damned cold but he knew it would become much worse. He spent the Metro ride home trying to decide what to pack. Replaying the Commissar’s comments however, he realized he had no idea even what country he’d be in or whether he’d be on the relatively warm side.

He stumbled up the steps to his third story studio. “Crap,” he muttered and he threw himself on the couch. I just need a nap before that guy — what was his name? He shook his head, trying to sober himself up. Maybe cold water. Or coffee. But where am I going? His head still spinning, Dmitry conked out. 

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Meanwhile, the boss they called The Commissar had gone back in to share the happy news with everyone in the section. He glanced around. People were wasted. Oh, well. He tapped the side of a glass with a caviar knife and asked for attention several times. It was times like this that having a mike was helpful. People quieted quickly.

“Hey, I just have a very short announcement to make. I received orders from high up — from very high up, that Dmitry has been transferred on an emergency basis to another location. Meanwhile, the division head says to scuttle all our records on Project SuperSpreader. If anyone asks, tell them it was my idea, and mine alone. None of you should admit to having anything to do with it. And, don’t mention Dmitry. He is such an important asset now that we want there to be no way for foreign agents to trace him or find him. The CIA may be onto us and they will think nothing of killing him or torturing him for information. So…as far as the outside world goes, he was never here.” 

The Commissar prided himself on being able to read faces, even those trained in deception. People with alcohol were happy people. They were used to hearing arbitrary decisions. They were used to obedience. 

“Oh, one more thing, before you get back to partying. Dmitry told me to give everyone his regards and his thanks — and his regret for not having time to say goodbye to everyone personally. I’m sorry I don’t know anything more about his promotion and assignment. Top Secret. Now, Party!” 

Back in his apartment, Dmitry heard a knock or a telephone or possibly a doorbell. What was it? He had had way, way too much to drink. But, he recalled, or thought he recalled, it was only three shots. I should have a buzz, but not — how can I be this drunk. He tried to swing his legs over the edge of the couch but they didn’t move. Suddenly, he jerked his head. There was a man here. $hit! He thought, It’s my contact. I’ve got to get it together.

The man smiled genially, yawned and glanced at his watch. “Ah, you’re still here. Well, not for long. Sorry. I got here a little early. If you’re embarrassed to die in front of me, I could leave and come back.” 

Dmitry just couldn’t think straight. “What? What? Caspian?” 

The man tilted his head with curiosity as though wondering precisely how this one would die. “There’s no Caspian, my friend.” He chuckled a bit. “Nice idea by the way — the whole death cult thing. I would have never thought of it. Well, maybe. But I never would have thought it could work. Brilliant really. Thing is, it’s so brilliant, people like your Commissar feel it might be more appropriate if someone with a longer career deserves to get the credit. Don’t worry. It won’t be long.” He paused and then added thoughtfully, “If you’re in pain or anything, just give me a sign. I can break your neck. SNAP! Real quick. Just give me a wink.” 

Dmitry cast his mind back. Who was this man? What was he saying the Commissar who gave me his special vodka wants to … an image flashed into Dmitry’s mind. The clear vodka had only been poured into one glass, not both. Only Dmitry had actually drunk the clear liquid. No wonder it tasted so good. Liquid death. 

The man chuckled the deep chuckle of someone who revels in evil. “I see the truth is dawning on you, Dmitry. You’re supposed to be a genius. You should understand — in a system that puts power over truth, the people at the top are not the most able or the smartest or the most educated or the most talented. They are the cruelest and most ruthless. I hope you find that useful info in the next world.” 

Dmitry realized he was going blind. He blinked several times and squinted to look into the face of this man who had come to … take the body, he supposed. The nameless man stared right back as though he were a stamp collector staring at a rare stamp for that flaw, that flaw, that fatal flaw. Dmitry realized that his had been trusting his boss. 


This is part of a longer story line in four chapters. Here are links to other chapters.

Chapter 1: Plans for us; some GRUesome

Chapter 2: Finding the Needleman in the American Haystack

Chapter 4: https://wordpress.com/post/petersironwood.com/5422

Trumpism is a New Religion

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Watershed Virus

A Profound and Utter Failure

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration & Teamwork

https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

T-Rump Swan Song

30 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

coronavirus, COVID19, Cult, pandemic, politics, treason, Trumpandemic

“Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes!

His floating hair!

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

The Ridin’ Biden? 

He plays fair!

How dare he dare! 

So unwise!

He has a socialistic plan

To ban the planets who rotate right!

He’s mean and keen 

And he will break your overbite!

He’ll do whatever 

He damned well pleases! 

Oh, Base, oh Base 

Get down on your kneeses!

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

I despise you all 

And hope you fall 

And die of cold

Or die of heat; 

It never gets old 

To watch you fold.


I let you die of Trumpandemic 

But now I’m out to scare

You to death with the dire predictions

Of imaginary Biden

Whose leads widen 

My lies no longer can be sold!

Original drawing by Pierce Morgan


He’ll square the moon!

Outlaw balloon! 

Eat a loon!

Eliminate June!

He’ll replace the flag 

With an all-black rag!

He’ll make water run uphill! 

He’ll make the sun too chill!

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com


So much solar power

Sucked from the sun each hour!

It will die! I wouldn’t lie! 

You know I never do! 

And I love everyone! 

(Who isn’t Muslim or Jew,

Or dark, or smart, or thinks, 

Or cares, or loves

Or anyone who cannot afford

A yacht and gloves). 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

But people like that? 

They hardly count at all. 

Long as you stick with me, 

You’ll have a ball. 

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

But lest you forget

Let me now resume. 

I’ve no evidence but you can presume

Biden will cancel Christmas!

And even cancel sex!

Ivanka thinks he uses hypertext! 

He’ll turn off gravity! 

Outlaw depravity!

Make everyone marry a woman of color

Maybe your own daughter. Did I mention Ivanka?

She’s also a brilliant business tycoon billionaire like me.

Oh, but yeah, we were talking about Obama and how 

He tried to make America — you know he’s from Kenya? 

Did I mention that I am a mental giant?

Yep. Went to the Doctors and they were amazed!

They said my brain was hardly grazed! 

They told me: “man, woman, person, camera, TV” 

And I said:

Hey! that’s me! 

A story about me!

I am a man

(Or at least pretend to be one)

I grabbed at women by the score; 

Raped more than a few;

It didn’t count because a woman isn’t really a person.

Photo by Caleb Oquendo on Pexels.com


I confessed it all on camera; it all was taped. 

But then on TV, I simply japed.

All was forgiven by my faceless base.

They all need me, but I don’t need any one of them. 

Photo by Alin Luna on Pexels.com

They are what I call the “Minutes”. 

There are people you need for a few minutes — and when those minutes are over, 

The photo-op done? 

You’ve no more need of them. 

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com


But there are others I think of as the “Hours” —

These are people you need to be your tool

For an hour or two; long enough to win a suit.

Long enough to sell a lie. 

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

And, a few are the “Days” —

They are not a momentary craze. 

I might wait a month or two 

Before I chop them up and throw them in the stew.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And that rhymes with slew 

I guess you knew!

I’m over two hundred thousand and twenty-two!

Way ahead of Putin who

Has not passed thirty two! 

But Oh, yes, I was talking about how terrible Obama was!

Photo by Life Matters on Pexels.com

Or, wait, I seem to be in a bit of a fuzz.

Clinton, Hilary that’s the one we’ll lock her up!

Because why should a black or a woman be POTUS 

And not me?! ME!?! Born rich and lost it all.

Pity me, pity me, oh, poor me! 

Let me dis you and kiss you

And spread my sick death

I’ll unmask you 

And you and task

You to suck in my breath. 

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

Kim Jung Un really opened my eyes!

To be a leader, you needn’t be wise!

Just grab for the cruel-stick don’t ever let go!

Demand to be king in the absolute know!

Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com



Watch me steer America

Down into flame. 

With all of my fingers

I’ll spread out the blame.”

Photo by Ming SUN on Pexels.com

America wake.

And give a good shake. 

Another Trump term 

Would be a mistake.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

One day soon, we’ll all recall 

We work best when we work as one. 

Working together will add to the fun.

Work together for the good of all.

Photo by Dana Tentis on Pexels.com

—————————————————

Trumpism is a new religion

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Watershed Virus

The Ailing King of Agitate

Life is a Dance

Author Page on Amazon

Essays on America: Highlights & Lowlifes

14 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

confirmation, Democracy, GOP, pandemic, politics, Supreme Court, treason, voting

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Democrat still clinging to the Rule of Law: “Are you against the Affordable Care Act? Do you realize destroying it would put the health of millions of Americans at risk and that we are in the middle of a pandemic?”

AB: “I don’t comment on things in the abstract so I can’t say.”

Democrat believing in the Rule of Law: “But you did write opinions that it should be trashed.” 

AB: “Oh, that!. Oh, sure. But I was just writing as an academic. Just expressing my opinion as an academic. It has nothing whatever necessarily to do with what I would do in a specific case. I’d have to read the law, listen to the arguments, pray for guidance, confer with my colleagues, understand the facts of the case and then rule however the President told me to.” 

Democrat: “And you do realize that the President read your opinion…well, no, didn’t read it I’m sure, but he was no doubt assured by the Federalist society that you could be counted on to do whatever he says. Right?” 

AB: “Oh, I’d be so flattered if he read it, but I didn’t know that. I’m sure it’s just my sheer brilliance that made him pick me.”

Democrat: “You realize that he has said publicly that he would pick a judge who would tear down the Affordable Care Act, right? So, he at least thinks he knows how you would vote. Correct?” 

AB: “Oh, my. I have no idea what such a stable genius as the President might think. Who knows? But I can assure you and everyone listening that I would look to the law and the facts and make a fair and informed decision. You know, justices have to swear to be impartial.” 

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Democrat: “Yes, I’m familiar with the concept of ‘Oath of Office.’ After all, Trump swore an ‘Oath of Office’ to defend our country. But what he’s actually done is sell it out to Putin and the Russian oligarchs to whom he owes half a billion dollars. And, the GOP Senators swore a solemn oath to run a fair trial after Trump’s impeachment. And, all the while Mitch McConman laughed, smiled, and said he could guarantee that Trump would walk free and that he would “coordinate” the trial with Trump’s legal team. And, the GOP Senators refused to call witnesses or subpoena documents, so, again, I’m pretty clear how much an oath is worth when it’s made by the Gang Of Putin. But let’s examine another issue. Trump has also said he wants to be lifetime dictator. If he claims he wants to be dictator and the case comes to the Supreme Court and you are confirmed, can you assure the American people that you will not take his side? Is it ever okay for the President to become a dictator?” 

AB: “Well, as I have said so many times in the last few days, I’m a strict constitutionalist. I don’t believe it’s up to us to re-interpret the Constitution but to hang instead on its every word. That said, I can’t comment on hypotheticals. So, who knows? But I can assure you that I would read the applicable law and the facts of the case and make a decision based on the constitution.”

Dem: “So you cannot — right here — today, assure the American people that you will not approve Trump’s bid to become dictator?” 

AB: “It would depend on the specifics. I can tell you this though. The word ‘dictator’ does not appear in the Constitution. So, apparently, the Founding Fathers must have thought it would be just fine. Otherwise they would have put a clause in specifically forbidding it. And they didn’t. So…but I am in no way promising that I would approve his dictatorship. It would depend on the arguments and so on and so forth ad nauseam.” 

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Dem: “Putin’s Puppet seems to think that it is vital to get you on the court right now so that you can rule on his bogus claims of voter fraud. He has publicly said that’s why he needs you on the court.” 

AB: “I’m flattered, of course, that he needs me. I had no idea he said that. How sweet. But I would have to look at the arguments on both sides, and the applicable law, and the facts of the case. Then, I would make a determination.” 

Dem: “You realize that study after study has found that voter fraud is a nearly non-existent problem?” 

AB: “Since the President has already said he’s going to put this case before the Supreme Court, I can’t really comment on a case which I may have to rule on.”

Dem: “Since the President has said that he is putting you on the court now because he will need you to make sure he wins regardless of the vote totals, don’t you feel you should recuse yourself from such a case if it does come to the Court? Otherwise, even if you were trying to be fair, don’t you think a reasonable person would infer that there is a conflict of interest?” 

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AB: “Well, my mentor Judge Scalia did not recuse himself from a case where Dick Cheney and he had an extended hunting trip together right before the case. Cheney had a material interest and I want to be more right wing than Attila the Hun. But I can’t actually say. You know? I’d have to see exactly what the case was and then decide not to recuse myself. I mean, why would I? I’m always fair in my own mind, so why recuse?” 

Dem: “Do you think black people should be allowed to vote in this country? Are you aware that we are in the middle of an election right now and that the Republicans are suppressing the vote in a whole host of ways? In rich white neighborhoods, people might wait five minutes, but in many areas where there are a preponderance of people of color, there are lines that are up to eleven hours long. Is this equal protection under the law?”

AB: “Well, you know, I don’t want to give opinions on things unless I actually know the facts of the case. You say there are long lines and that the black vote is being suppressed but who knows? What does reporting prove? What does eyewitness prove? Unless it is brought to court and we have a chance to review the law, check with the President and see what he wants to do, who knows?” 

Dem: “Did you say you would have to check with the President?” 

AB: “Absolutely. Oh, wait. Did you think I said President? I said precedent. Maybe if you’d take the damned mask off, I could understand you better. The pandemic’s over anyway. Our fearless leader already said that. But whatever. I don’t see what my religion has to do with it.” 

Trumputinist Senator: “Exactly. The Constitution guarantees religious freedom and yet the Democrats here today have repeatedly said you shouldn’t serve because of your religion! It’s preposterous!” 

AB: “I know! I have a right to believe the earth is the center of the universe and that it’s 6000 years old and that women should be utter slaves to their husbands and that birth control, abortion, and in vitro fertilization are all tools of the devil if I want! And, yet the Dems keep saying I can’t serve because of my religion! I don’t see why a Catholic can’t be on the Supreme Court. It’s not like I’m Muslim or something weird like that.” 

Dem: “What Senator has said that you could not serve because of your religion?” 

AB: “I forget. Lots of them. All of them. None of them. But they intimated it.” 

Dem: “Which Senator intimated that you are unworthy to serve because of your religious beliefs?” 

Photo by Oladimeji Ajegbile on Pexels.com

AB: “Somebody. I don’t know. Maybe they were wearing a mask. Which is silly. Because the pandemic’s over. It’s over. Our Fearless Leader said so! You were asking me about voting rights. That’s one example. The Bible says only white people should vote — people like Jesus.” 

Dem: “You think Jesus was white?”

AB: “Well, sure. That’s what the picture looks like in my church. Blond hair like me and blue eyes like me. See, there you are again, questioning my religion.” 

Dem: “No, I’m not. I’m questioning your history. Jesus was almost certainly dark-skinned and dark haired and brown eyed.”

AB: “Where does it say that in the Constitution?” 

Dem: “Constitution? What are you talking about?” 

AB: “You know, the law of the land, the … oh, I mean … I mean, the Bible. Where does it say in the Bible that Jesus wasn’t Aryan? And, anyway, did you know I adopted colored children?” 

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Dem: “That’s very nice. I firmly believe that you, like other Americans, can believe as you wish. But it concerns me that you may sometimes confuse what the Constitution says with what the Bible says. Does that ever happen?” 

AB: “Absolutely not! But if it did, let’s not forget that the country was founded by Evangelical Christians!” 

Dem: “Partly, perhaps. Thomas Pain was an atheist. Thomas Jefferson was a deist. As was Benjamin Franklin. As was Alexander Hamilton in his later years. Anyway, would you support the idea that America should be a religious theocracy?” 

AB: “I wouldn’t care to speculate about hypocrites or hypocrisy. They have a long and stories history in American politics. It would depend on the specifics of the case.”

Dem: “Hypocrisy? Do you mean hypotheticals?” 

AB: “Yes, that’s what I said — hypotheticals. I don’t do hypotheticals.”



Dem: “So, if the President intentionally killed a quarter million Americans, and a class action lawsuit were brought by the families of those intentionally killed, you could not say whether that was okay or not?”

AB: “Of course not. That’s a perfect example. The President is so gentle, I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly intentionally. Well, not unless it were stealing the show from Pence. But you know. I would need to know specifically which quarter million Americans were killed and many of them were probably nobodies or old, sick people anyway. And many of them just didn’t take care of themselves. Heart disease, cancer, diabetes…aren’t these really just the products of bad decisions?”

Dem: “Sometimes. Often people are born with pre-existing conditions. And sometimes, people get those diseases from bad luck although certainly lack of financial resources can play a part as well.” 

AB: “Well there you go! If you’re not born rich, whose fault is that? But as I say, it would depend. I can’t say anything. I was told not to say anything and I’m pretty sure I succeeded.” 

Dem: “So, just to recap, if the President breaks the law and then argues that he should have absolute power and be able to break any law he wants, you would say — what?”

AB: “I can’t say. I really can’t say. I’m under orders not to say anything about anything. And — we’re done! We’re done! I’m in! I’m in! No-one has a conscience and no-one will vote against me! I avoided saying all those bad things you were trying to get me to say and I win! I win!”

——————————————-

https://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/03/18/scalia.recusal/

Con Formation Confirmation

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Trumpism is a New Religion

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