Our Cinderella

I think of human history and the question of who should be allowed to rule
along the same lines as an original Cindrella story.
Religion and Science would be the step sisters.

Each time the prince comes to the house he ends up being fooled into picking the wrong bride.

Each sister cuts off different bits of her foot to accommodate the slipper that the prince brings to each household. The word is that the prince will choose the one who fits the slipper as his new bride.
This is the case because a mystery woman stole his heart at a costume ball recently. She left no name, but she did drop the slipper in her mad dash for the exit. He figures that if he can find the foot that fits perfectly, then all will be well for him. A perfect fit meaning that   he will have found the mystery woman he had fallen in love with on that magical evening.
The stepmother and sisters lock Cinderella away and out of sight when the prince comes calling.

They believe they are entitled to the riches this Prince will share with his bride.

They  look down on Cinderella. They make her serve as a maid in the house and insult her as much as they can. They don’t want to risk the Prince seeing her and robbing them of a lifetime of riches, even though they have no idea that is was she that was the mystery woman at the ball that night.
So, each thinking themselves entitled…nasty as they were, ugly and bitter as they were (one stick thin and the other hog fat) ..they mutilate themselves to fit the shoe on their feet. One cuts off a toe and the other her heel.
At all costs, no matter the pain and the long-lasting crippling effects, each gets the shoe on. Each hobbles to the horse and joyful over being so  close  to her deeply desired future.
What gives each one away are the long trails of blood  left behind in the dirt.
Thankfully, the prince’s party notices these gruesome little tell tale signs.
The slipper soaked with blood, according to whichever sister had cut wherever, they are each marched right back to their miserable little home.
Each one being obviously unsuitable ( or bald  monkey stupid) for and undeserving  of life amongst their Betters.
Cinderella eventually is found, as many of us know…although with not quite such dark overtones.

The common denominators are obvious-rule by religion and then rule by science.

From being apples fallen from the same rotten tree and their shared contempt for others to  holding themselves apart in their high and mighty delusions.
What is not so obvious, in my humble “o”, is something I believe can spark a bit of unexplored hope. Hope about our future as a finally free species.
That notion of there existing a “beauty in the land” ( different rules to live by) that could finally bring us the happiness we’ve been chasing.
A “perfect fit” that didn’t involve games of overindulgent deception and bloodshed.
It brings me comfort because instead of feeling hopelessness over being stuck with one or the other forever..(as they swap ownership of our worthless lives between one another)….there remains an exciting possibility that our “Cinderella” of a glorious promise is still out there to be found.

And all we have to do is find where it’s being held prisoner..that’s all.

Or where both of them are hiding “It”.

Juicing Joy

Fresh smoothie in glass bottle

I introduced my youngest to the joys of juicing last week.
Eager to impress him with Mom’s experimentation skills, I lined up the carrots, apples, lemons, pears, a few other bits and got to gettin’.

Wow. Was I amazed..
..over how I took perfectly good gifts from nature and basically created what tasted like
industrial strength furniture polish.

Uh huh..

This , obviously, was a short lived recipe which shall never see the light of day ever again.
Luckily, there are some true juice gourmets out there with some downright yummy (and safe) alternatives. Visit the following link for a few.

photo by eugenegg

They Must Be So Proud

(from some far off sci-fi kind of observatory  in the The Above…...)
I will bet “they” are most excited when they check in on the
popular actors, singers and writers amongst us.
As they  brush junk lunch crumbs off  their shirts to
jab rolled up lab reports victoriously into the air about the “Eurekah!”” moments of our development.
They probably bubble with excitement when we manage to write our own scripts. Without their help.
How hopeful they must still be, even if we failed to demonstrate enough skill to be human beings, that we can at least successfully create the scenes, mimic emotions and
sketch the pictures of what we could be and do.. if we were to one day finally become human beings.

Take “Shindler’s List” for example and how it inspired loads of us to
sob and angrily declare that “we would never forget”. That was a powerful movie for many.
It outlined a bad time in history and coaxed some amazing villains and heroes from out of its
drama packed guts. Nice stuff.

Good stuff, Maynard.

If one wasn’t careful, or simply too young to truly understand human nature, one could have been fooled into believing that we as a people would actually stand up for “justice” to save millions of targeted lives in danger.
One could have become easily convinced that a certain amount of courage actually resided within our skins; the way we were talking and dabbing our boo hoo rags into the corners of our eyes over it.
Obviously, society’s collective response to that movie was only a mere projection of what we could be, if we were to actually become human beings.

I get that now.

We don’t actually stand up against wrongdoing, we just pretend that we can.

We play act.
We shoot off our big mouths to blast one another when our loyalties are challenged, yet can be found looking the other ways in many incidents that require dire attentions.
We’re not a united people who stand up together; well, definitely not in the Moses sized waves of protest we participate in when a cause is handed over to us to raise hell over-Like robots being fed instructions.
Like this sugar sweet pile of projection of who we think we are…
Awww, Lookie…a Sweetie Pie Angel Down Syndrome Baby…
.. compared to the wearisome and predictable reality of what we end up doing..
What? For MY Baby?..oh no no no…
Sing it Sister, Me neither…

Or concerning the laws (done by exucutive order no less) that we feel we’ve “earned” and “created” and are “protected under, by God”…..
YAY!! Girl Power! They got our Back!!
..that end up having been nothing but whispers and whistles,

having nothing to do with the horrors that we actually could have been motivated to do something about.
Shhhh…not here, not now..

Didn’t They say “International”?…
Yes…They must be bursting with pride over how much closer we’re getting to resembling human beings by the words we create and the motions we make.

photo Davi les humaniseurs

Note: I don’t endorse nor necessarily even like all of the link sites that I use for reference sake. 

Some I only use  to point out the hypocrisy of indignant establishments who report on vital issues with passion and protest…but fail to turn a few pages to discover that Their System ..while it could do something…going as far as to promise on record to do something..chooses to do nothing.

Can’t Wait

Elder man with depression

I can not wait.
( I will chase some bitter blues away by sharing the most rude item on my “bucket list” that my ADHD-Aspergian-whatever-the-heck brain can muster.)

I can not wait until the vain overseers of our plantation end up in their various nursing homes, unable to care for themselves in their old age. I don’t wish to see it.
Believing in what will come to pass, for at least a few, is satisfying enough. I’ll be more than generous enough to sweep a spot clean, on the floor of the box car, for them to take a seat next to me.

When the tight facelift finally collapses into surrender.
That costly “nip and tuckery” combined with swell designer suits and high heels. The one meant to fool us into “seeing” a younger face. Not that many can see it without chuckling, because the strained chicken skin of the neck underneath is practically clucking the truth.
When the echoes of their heels no longer sound importantly down the great halls where younger and more vital lawmakers and liars will prowl.
When there aren’t any more hearty ” hee haws” and cackles during expensive dinners. Nor compliments on “healthy tans” from vacation spots; eye winking lies told because someone’s alcoholism is now shamefully branded upon his red and mottled face; reminding the world of how yet another shameless drunk is considered better than any of us to have control over how our lives are to be “lived”.

When their soiled bedsheets are rudely yanked from under their frail or grossly obese bodies.
When they are left helpless, feeling more like a thing than the important official they were once considered.
When they are forced to accept the humiliation of living as a “nothing”.

But most of all, most importantly… the looks on their faces when their caregivers disappoint them in the fast vanishing and once guaranteed human blessings of empathy, tenderness and kindness.
When they struggle to utter words, while their heads involuntarily nod with palsy, as if answering unheard questions every second of each minute .
When they try pleading with a rough attendant to be more gentle and receive a snicker or angrily muttered command to “shut up” as response.
When they look wildly around for someone..(anyone!)..to report how deeply humiliated they were upon being the butt of a cruel joke between two caregivers -slick enough to stay well out of the reach of any cameras or recording devices. A cruel joke about their explosive lack of continence and worse, discussed in front of him or her while helpless on that bed. As if the notion of feelings were not much more than rumors.
And they never find any one to utter their grievances to and have anything come of it..

Despite a lifetime of spoiled expectations on how others should treat them, I can’t wait until the day they experience exposure to the societal nightmares that too many of them helped usher into this darkening and maddening world. At the very least, ignored.
Where chemical lobotomies have stripped nearly every mind, to highly varied degrees, clean of the “frivolous” emotions that long dead masters spent decades maneuvering into nonexistence. With incredible “mad scientist” schemes for efficiency and “purity” -sprung from their own ASD  riddled narcissism .
They may ignore the massive outcries of bewilderment, fear and pain flooding through inconceivable numbers of families, work places and every interpersonal relationship imaginable…and the screaming groans from collapsing bridges of civility…
And they may sneer and wag fingers with the harshest insults over people’s intelligence in the light of frightened resistance and growing panic of what’s becoming of us…
The horrid and sad truth is that there remain things a good number of them won’t easily miss sharing with Us .

Like not being heard for what their words say, but instead being ignored, treated maliciously or with great suspicion for assumptions created through broken neurological pathways.
Where the chance of being understood dies. Never mind being loved.
Where even best intentions and deeds are intermixed with the bad and imaginary.
Where there will be no choice but to remain silent-
For we , those of us missing (deactivated) the part of the brain which helped humans (over millions of years) register that other individual humans carry different likes or opinions….. will consider those who engage in such “clinically selfish” behaviors as threats to what they will come to know as a “perfectly ordered world”.
Lord knows, whether we lift our poor heads to acknowledge it or not, it is already well under way.

A pure and living Hell on Earth; where all will ache for compassion, warmth and respect without begging for it…but choose to ignore, abuse and mock others who have the “audacity” to expect receiving even the smallest same measure and matter in return.
A pure and living Hell on Earth where our self glorifying  “lords and ladies”
find themselves  weeping on cold nights..painfully aware of and suffering from the plight they dared let happen to us so carelessly. Too old to be of use, with no where  to run.
And so full of regret.. that they spend most of their days angrily confused as to why they had to be born in the first place.. if all Fate had waiting for them was to “live” with no more purpose than a toy or tool, a pet or a pig.
Like too many of us, worldwide, are feeling now…and are doomed to suffer soon.

photo by Photographee.eu

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