Once upon a time, there was a child born, not the eldest, but the first girl. It was a time when the world was at war, and they were fairly safe in a place called Boheme for most of it. But her father was a very clever lawyer, and before he had left their real home, well, let's just say he was an opportunist of the worst sort. Bought up goods of people who had been driven away over third parties and gotten quite wealthy doing it.
After the whole thing was over, she and her family were driven out, and her first memories were of being on the run, and her world falling down. Chaos, in other words.
Her father got to do time in a prison camp run by anglo saxons. Where he learned to love Wodehouse., which became her personal favorite. Daughters love their dads, no matter what.
Her younger sister was taken by a crippling disease, and she was the one to carry her to classes, before wheelchairs became available after the Great Conflict. In other words, she became 'the caretaker' in the family, the 'dependable' one, the one who made the sacrifices.
So, time passed, and so forth and so on, and both the daughters became lawyers, but with the eldest girl, nah, that wasn't what she wanted to do.... her world was music, it was her escape. And her mother encouraged her, and hired the last student of a very famous composer to teach her to make a violin sing. And she learned to play tennis passably well, till she got tennis arm and had to give it up, because it interfered with her greatest passion... music.
She married a guy who was of the same political stripe as her father, but... her heart wasn't where his was, actually.
They lived in Germany for a while, and she had trouble bearing children, and after some medical help, had three. A boy and two girls. And then the inevitable happened.
She was called back to her home city to run a hotel that her father had 'inherited'... or something.
And got right back into being 'the caretaker'. The sister and brother had partial interest in it, and so, she did what she could to make it run.
It was a run-down, shabby affair when she took it over. So she thought, 'investment'. Make it better.
She was fairly scurrile by that time, because, even in the feminist age, she couldn't juggle home, the husband the kids, and a business that usually produces more divorces than any other branch I can think of.
Some people who worked for her thought she treated them like 'hers', serfs. But they missed the point, she was actually generous, and sometimes was too inquisitive into their lives and well-being, but meant well. Which didn't always go over well with those in her laser-like view of interest. And she was so direct... well there's a saying, 'falling into the house with the door in your hand'... which means tactless. and goes beyong putting your foot in your mouf.
If they did have some sort of trouble, she would do her best to help them out of it.
Which could be trying some people found, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions....
And over thirty years, the children grew up, but hey, a lot of the edumacation was done over the phone, because she put in the time in order to get the money to fulfill their desires and give them a damned good life.
They rebelled of course, the eldest son especially. And as they were sort of racist... he went mountain climbing in Peru one season, and came back engaged... to a very nice lady from there. Whose compexion wasn't the brightest. 'Inca Princess'--- oh my, how they talked, and when the first children came.... well the husband of this lady had to resign from his fraternity, because of all the denigrating shit he got about it.
We're speaking about a far-off kingdom here, where races just did NOT mix. Not in her cirles...
And time passed again, it goes by so quickly. But for her, music was still the center of hre life, her true passion. Eveinings playing with like-minded passionate people. There may even have been a romance there, but even the story-teller can't be certain.
But it was time for her to retire, her father had died 'way too early', as we always think, and her mother went a bit ga-ga, but that's the way of the world, she thought, and she took very good care of her.
So she decided to lease the hotel to a group of four businessmen from Vienna, who tuned out to be sharks.
They set goals to be achieved.... how much MONEY had to be taken in each month, and went after their newly acquired serfs if the goal wasn't achieved. They had bought into the US mode of business, and they were hell-bent on getting them achieved.... without their doing one single thing to help.
Sound familiar?
Well, it turned out the real goal was to acquire a first rate place, but for that, they had to show they were successful, and that was why the pressure was on. And in the end, they did, a 'noble' resort, and they were in.
And their modest no-name place, well they tied it to a franchise, and re-branded it, and it was the step-child.
But their plans were much bigger, turned out. Being good business sharks who smelled blood in the water, and having a very savvy lawyer among them... they bided their time, till our heroine was getting ON in years. And the contract was: they kept up mainenance, but big investmenst were hers to make.
Now she and the family got a monthly stipend as part of whatever profits it was 'they wanted to devulge'. Which weren't always above-board.
So it came to the point where there were some very heavy investments to be made, and she had to decide... put herself in hock till she's 86 or sell out, and the price being offered wasn't all too extroadinary, because, hey, so many investments to be made...
This is called being between a rock and a hard place.
In the end, she caved and sold.
On the one hand it was a relief. On the other, she felt a bit taken to the laundry. But she'd already had a stroke, there was no way to keep up with it. And she lost the use of her arm and shoulder, and couldn't play violin anymore, which was like breathing air for her. So she just let it go, paid off her debts and gave the rest in equal parts to her children.
But there is a half-way happy ending to this fairy tale: she still had a voice, so she joined a choir, and sang and sang, because god or whoever didn't take that away from her.
Some of you may know what this fairy tale is about. Some of you have even met the lady. She is actually a kind person. She called me and rattled on for an hour the other day. Mainly concerned whether I'm ok. I spent thirty years five feet away from the woman, and one thing I learned was listen... out of the seemingly disconnected verbal flooding river, you find the stream and what really is going on. But we do have a mutual respect for one another, and I never held my tongue when something was awry. Nor did she, and she never said a word about Peter, not one mean thing evah. For the mistress of tactlessness, that's saying something.
She did take me aback asking 'when did your father die?' There ARE subtler ways of asking... 'and ummmm... your father?' for instance.
And I said, 'wellll .... not yet....'
She was ecstatic, 'how WONDERFUL... oh, Herr B. be happy, you got great genes!'
Listen, no one could ever follow her line of thinking, I broke up laughing.
But the actual PÒINT of this ist how the 'gang of four' got their hands on a property, gutted it to get what they REALLY wanted, and sheesh... ended up buying it for a pittance in their range of what anything is worth, and will treat it like the step-child and gut it till it doesn't bring any more revenue, and declare it dead.
And THAT is what Mitt Romney does. You think jobs were created? Of COURSE they weren't. They pared a crew of 13 to 7. It's how it works for them.
Anyone buying that line of thinking is a fool.
A Fractued Fairy Tale I Thought I'd Never Tell--- about romeyesque 'business...
OH, NOT! A Cardinal is gonna ' take one for the team', whaddaya know?
Ok... from the top... was nearly finished and google ate it.
Once upon a time, in a tiny happy kingdom, there was a young man. And he loved his church. Sang like a veritable angel. But he fell in love with the 'wrong' person, who also happened to be a man, and that wasn't what his church sanctioned or condoned.
But the young man was 'in-love', and he married his partner in a civil ceremony anyway, which probably hurt him inside... because his church certainly wouldn't allow it.
Now, the young man lived according to the tenets of his beliefs, and he was very helpful indeed, and tended to the needy, sang like an angel in choir, and was very busy, even though the beliefs of his church were totally opposite to who he really was, imagine that.
And it came time to vote for members to sit on the parish board, and the young man was elected by a very large majority. Which surprised the rest of the kingdom, because in a village that tiny, one would have thought they would be totally against it.
Well, his church said, 'oh no, this won't do at all. It is wonderful that he is so accepted in his community, but he must withdraw and concede his nomination. The way he lives his life is against all our tenets.'
And a wondrous thing happened. People in the entire realm heard of the young man's story, and decided to give a loud voice in opposition to his being ousted after being overwhelmingly elected.
And the loudest voices of protests came from the young man's community, because they liked him so much.
Now, the über-head of this church was of old and ancient lineage, and things hadn't been going so well for his 'lambs'. Way too many scandals. And his church's idea of never marrying, and remaining chaste for a lifetime was very difficult to follow for his fellow priestly members. Which led to... shall we say, egregious acts against the naive and innocent?
And that had led to his followers officially leaving his faith and church in droves. For years, and it was bleeding dry. And of course, revenues dropped accordingly.
But the über-head... well, he took the Sunday before the most important religious holiday of his church to go on the tee-vee and radio to say he'd revised his decision. He'd invited the young man and his spouse to dine with him. (and if I'd been asked, I'd have made a wiiide circle around THAT meeting and not shown up...) And said, that after seeing them, he would certify the election of the young man, and thought he was very upstanding. Happy end.
Disclaimer: I never denigrate what people choose to believe. If that is what the young man wanted, and actually got? I guess that's ok... but from the outside looking in... I really have to question everyone's judgement in the whole story.
I got some recent stats here. The latest involved a private school up north, and kids were abused in all sorts of ways into the 90's. And oh yeah, there was this 'terrific' horrific report on how people in Bavaria in schools like that... went so far as to turn kids, and then have them castrated when they were 20 to stop them from being gay. It was in the Fifties. If I were that young man... I would watch my back.
As to the ueber-head.. he said, 'It's against all teachings, but I'll take it on my cap.' And.. 'Jesus woulnd't have turnred them away.' No, he wouldn't have. But he meant taking responsibility for his decision a wondrously rare thing in his field.. But he has to stop the bleeding, so he's 'taking it for the team.'
Tja.. fairy tales are so odd... I must've dreamed it. I wanna know when any respect for clowns flew out the winder.
Charades.....
Let's see.... once upon a time, then... in a far-off kingdom where happiness was the main thing in the whooooollle wide world, there was an evil count. (No, it wasn't Disney World Florida). Even though he wasn't able to USE his title, everybody still knew... he was a count. Uh-huh. And the count was eeevil because.... he was an arms trading lobbyist, and for years, rumours and suspicions were muttered among the populace, because... they thought he was doing illegal things. And let's face it, selling arms isn't exactly a noble thing to do.
And the count took a wifey... who in the happy kingdom became the minister of health. And the people who sucked up to the count were even more happy, indeed, she provided a wonderful cover for him to continue in his 'business'.
Well, governments come, and governments go, and even in the happy kingdom, there was a regime change, and elections. The outcome was so close, the parties had to form a coalition. And the rumours about the count had become very loud indeed, so the old-fashioned party supported by the count decided to help the minister, saying they would only negotiate to form a coalition if the rebel party would apologise to the count. Which they did, thinking that a consensus would be constructive.
So the years went by, and the wifey and the count separated.... seemingly divorced, and the evil count was free to wheel and deal without compromising his spouse, and wheel and deal he seemingly did. The story teller isn't so clear on that... his attention was focused on another story.
Now, being a count has priveleges. And traditions! Like hosting hunts in the autumn, and all the lower intestinal acrobats among the populace were very lucky indeed to get trips, and kill bambis, and their mommies, and pheasants, and whatever moved in the woods.... but that was just camouflage. They were there for business. Or go golfing on the world's best courses... and do business.
Now oddly... the count always maintained he was poor and a modest sort of person, possessing not so much in means. But he had friends in the telecomunications industry, seemingly, and they were very happy to provide loads of monies to finance any junket the count thought would bring in revenue to what he considered a paltry estate. I mean, he WAS a count, after all... and that mattered to some people... because, being a count, he had influence, and 'knew' people and 'connections'.
And they provided tons of money to the candidates that the count liked for elections, the ones who would help him do even more business... seemingly with faked bill receipts. So it wouldn't look political, of course.
And one fine day, someone finally noticed, and the parliament of the tiny happy country decided to try to find out what threads of deceit had been perpertrated. And the count was cited to appear before the grave and disconcerted comittee.. and took a 'forget' pill, and couldn't remember 45 things that were important. Except the populace didn't buy that and got very angry, especially with his friends.
Now, the friends, who had feasted and dined, and hunted and golfed with the count were suddenly outraged, OUTRAGED, I tell you, that anyone in the populace would even think that they would have been involved in such nefarious behaviour. Why, they never had anything to do with the man, let alone condone anything he might have done.... Forgetting about the apology thing with the wifey.... Nope, they never knew him, never had anything to DO with him, nothing, nada, never. Except there were facts and documents showing that they did.
Of course.
And the grandee of all the counts' friends, and of high renown in his party said, 'if having a private company give money to an election campaign is illegal... we should change the law and let any private entity contribute as much money to a campaign as they see fit.'... That might have seemed like a good idea, but it seems the grandee got it from a very unhappy kingdom that was very far away, so he thought it would pass muster and no one would notice. AND... the grandee would devise an 'honor code' that everyone in their party would have to pledge to and follow.
This story doesn't have an end yet... in the happy kingdom, the populace are being forced to live on a restricted diet, because they were living too well. And the count and his ilk are miffed over all that lost revenue.
So the story teller can't pretend to know if there will be a happy end in the happy kingdom. But the story teller told it to Peter... and he giggled and grinned, and was thrilled about it. But some things made him indignant.
Disclaimer: any resemblance to the happy kingdom or the unhappy one and real places.... are purely coincidental. I must've dreamed it. And watch too much news.
Dreamscape with variants....
It must have been around the time he was on variant E before he realised what was going on. He was on a train platform, the time of day not so ascertainable, as it was just grey. He knew he had to get to Grado, although he couldn't imagine why, it was the only place in Italy that had thoroughly bored him.
But there was no denying it: there was the sign after all, blue neon letters with a red border. And he thought, that's wrong, it looks like a cinema theater exit sign you'd put over the doors. This one read 'Italy'. He thought that strange as well, as it was in the wrong language, but it didn't upset him.
A voice over the loudspeakers explained the car he'd reserved had been decoupled but would be arriving soon... but it turned into a warning that there was a bomb on board, and the platforms were to be cleared immediately.
So he ran to get outside the station. Everyone did, as fast as they could, although he only heard their shouts and the sound of their feet on the marble. He was focused on the huge rectangle of light at the station's entrance, which meant escape. There was a muffled explosion behind him.
And he was immediately in variant F: back on the platform, but on another, although it looked the same outwardly. And the same sign, 'Italy' hanging improbably out over the tracks. And the waiting was making him impatient. He muttering 'Gradno', instead of Grado. It was an insult, his local dialect of 'just barely', which he had labeled that vacation.
Out of nowhere, a white drone appeared, looking like a huge angry mosquito, and it was manned, except he couldn't see who was inside. There was a long white bar which had pressed him down to the ground, leaving him no room to wriggle out from under it. It didn't hurt. He was just annoyed. No one was coming to help, but inwardly, he shrugged, because he knew: there would be other variants, and their number was infinite. So he just felt.... resigned to it.
Don't ask me what this means, because I do not know.
A gay fractured fairy tale...
Once upon a time... there was a child born into war...
His family were mostly rebels in one form or another, his father died before he was born, and his grandparents raised him, because his mother worked very hard.
And he had a mess of aunts who protected him, and sometimes used him after the war was over... because they were occupied by four foreign countries. One would go to tea dances in the park with an officer, and he was the watch dog, for instance. An ice cream, and he would be distracted.
An ice cream for a child then was like getting a pound of gold.
His grandmother was adamant about him getting 'culture'.... mostly in the form of movies.
His grandfather didn't particularly like it, was more interested in FKK, nudist culture, and socialism.
'You're gonna make the boy weak.'
The child loved them both, and he loved the arts.
He was in a boarding school, had a really bad stepfather later on and reacted so badly he was sent there. And did his time in the military, but was so charming, he had it easy.
During that time, he met a very beautiful woman, an actress. And she seduced him as only such a woman could. She was married, her husband was gay and a film producer. He was nineteen, and got really confused. He loved her, but, it wasn't enough.
He played tennis and got his license as a teacher in two countries, but it was mostly to meet beautiful women, and be pampered.
He got into accompanying theater people to really rich parties and soirées. Tall, handsome, and very available. And one night, he was watching a play, and saw Luis. Had to meet him, Luis was gorgeous. So he did.
And he fell in love. Just like that. The theater world can go to your head and make it spin like a top. And he was on his way up the social ladder.... it didn't matter where you came from, it was what was in your head, and his was a veritable sponge.
So he was with Luis for a few years, and they were both so handsome, they should have been on Soaps. Luis contracted a fatal disease, and died a few years later. I don't think the child ever really got over it.
However, the child had so many contacts, he went to another, bigger country, and met the most legendary actors, actresses, and directors on his continent. And basically whored himself out, and had many adventures, and became enriched in his knowledge of the arts, and everything connected with the scene, and found that men would advance him way beyond what women would do, he didn't like anyone clinging to him.
And then tragedy struck, and his mother became deathly ill. So he returned to his homeland, to take care of her. He was stricken.
And it turned out he met a shy, very uncertain young man in his workplace, who felt very sorry for him, and what he was dealing with. The uncertain young man was fairly well educated, and the child dazzled him with his knowledge of what was a new world for him, and the uncertain young man had enough knowledge to keep his weight, intellectually. And was fascinated, and sad for the child and what he was going through.
The child's mother died. And the uncertain young man wanted to help, and all he could think to do was invite him over to eat, because he could sorta cook well. It was friendship, and empathy.
At first. It became a routine, and they spoke of so many things, and ONE day... the uncertain young man realised he had fallen 'in-love'. He hadn't expected it, it was just there. All of a sudden.
He knew that the child wasn't adverse to being pampered, and his background.... but the uncertain young man didn't think he could be attractive compared to all the stellar people his friend had known.
And ONE day, in the uncertain young man's efficiency room, the uncertain young man gathered up his courage, sat on the child's lap, and kissed him on the cheek. And the child said, 'I WARN you...' And the uncertain young man said, 'DON'T.'
And yes, those were lines from a film, and it was life imitating art, but... it was something spontaneous.
And the uncertain young man was beyond happy, and the child probably felt some comfort and bond... And surprisingly... the bond held. There were rough spots, and drama, and revenge sex, like on the Soaps... but mostly, they were happy.
And it lasted for 38 years...
But fairy tales sometimes don't have a happy ending. The child grew up to be an adult, and then became gravely ill, in that he became a real child again. And the uncertain young man ended up questioning what it was all ABOUT....
Went out last night....
And saw this today on the sidewalk outside my house near the bus stop. It was like a story, ya know??? Guy is waiting for a date. She is late. He is holding a perfect rose. He decides to give her one last chance, and smokes a cigarette. She does not arrive. So he rips up the ticket he paid half a week's pay for, drops everything and leaves. Hopes turned to ashes, in other words, and he wonders if he were a nerd.... Sad.
My gawd, what blather about a BOW...
The right wing media has lost their marbles, if they ever had any in the first place.
So, it is story time, kiddies.... Unca Ren is gonna tell you one, yep..
Very long ago, and fer away... there was this fallen kingdom called Austria, which had become a democracy. And in doing so... they had done away with silly things like titles, and the former nobility had no right to use them any more, even tho some people still looked up to them because they had a 'name'.
But the neighboring kingdom wasn't so harsh, and allowed their former nobility to keep their titles, and even put them in their passports!
Now there was this naive young man who came from way across the ocean, and worked in a hospice. His kingdom was a rabid democracy, whose people believed that EVERY ONE was equal.
One evening a very old man came into the hospice out of the rain, and the naive young man thought it was an old farmer in a plastic raincoat with a very striking face, which resembled portraits he had seen in museums. He wanted the simplest of rooms the hospice had to offer. And presented his passport.
And in the passport, he was titled as 'the prince--from here--to there.' And the naive young man thought, 'oh, how do I ADRESS him?' It was a real dilemma for him. And then he decided, 'Fuck this, we don't kow-tow to anyone like that'. And pretended nothing was disturbing, and used the polite form of address. As in French, the country had two forms of addressing people. So he chose 'diplomacy', because he didn't know what to do.
Asking about, he learned that the prince was one of the most powerful and rich of the neighboring kingdom, and that made him very uncertain.
Thankfully, the prince came back to the hospice every year to attend seminars regarding railways, which was his passion. And he was so gracious and charming, that the naive young man changed his views about what he had been taught about 'tyrants'. One evening he told the prince about his first reaction, and the prince said, 'Oh, my dear young man! Who thinks of that nowadays???' And he smiled.
Which reminded the naive young man of Proust, who maintained that the higher the title, the more gracious people were. (He had learned a little in the meanwhile.)
After many years, the prince came for his last visit. He told the naive young man he would not be back for the next seminar, because his hearing was so bad, and he would not 'ask anyone to speak up so I can hear them.'
The naive young man broke protocol. He took the hand of the now frail prince in both of his, and thanked him for having known him and for having visited the hospice for decades, and that from his heart.
The prince froze a little, having a commoner 'touch' him, but then was gracious.
And polite to the naive young man with heart-warming messages.
The prince died six months or so later. And the naive young man mourned his passing. He met princesses, and horrible earls, and Counts, and all... but the prince was truly a prince. And he had learned what protocol is, so he never got flustered again.
Tja, another fractured fairy tale. Except it is fairly true.
What the naive young man learned was that giving respect earned respect, and that if you want to get ahead, you adapt as far as you can to get what you want.
