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When I was floating around in the cosmos between my last, and this incarnation, I accidentally made a right turn. I could have turned left and taken birth on a distant planet in another solar system where everything could have been more perfect. There must have been a good reason for my coming here. I was fine where I was. This is a beautiful and wondrous planet. It is creature friendly, although its creatures are not always so friendly. It doesn't seem to matter what species they are, it seems as though there are always predators among them.
Playing the piano is like walking around the neighborhood.
Once you know your way around,
you know which cat is sitting on which porch
waiting for the mouse that he has been stalking.
You know which dogs are friendly and which ones will bite.
You know which doorway you can stand in when it's raining,
which alley to run through when you need to escape,
which fire escape to climb when you need shelter.
You know where to look when you need to find something.
You know which butcher to go to when you need a particular cut,
which barber to go to when you want a personal style,
where to find a tailor for the right suit for that special occasion.
You know where to take your friend who is visiting from out of town
and where not to take your mother.
You know where to put the garbage
and when the garbage is picked up.
You know what to put where on which day
so you don't have to pay a fine.
You know when and where and when and where not to say something.
You know how to look for the holes in the road;
which ones to fill and which ones to go around.
Which hole in the wall will fill your void.
Opportunity for advancement
401k, medical, dental
Apply today!
I set up an interview for 8:00 am. I donned my best suit which I usually reserve for funerals, and set out, resume' in hand.
I was greeted warmly by an attractive brunette who handed me an application and resumed her cell phone conversation with the girl in Human Resources in the next office. I could hear them talking to each other in stereo from my seat.
Finally, I was called into the office. After exchanging half-hearted pleasantries and handshakes, I was told to have a seat while my prospective new employer perused my application and resume'. “So tell me...why do you want to work here?" I could feel my blood pressure rising as I felt obligated to answer this particularly stupid and mundane question.
"What gives you the idea that I want to work here? What makes you so sure that I want to work at all? And you want me to do what!? I don't want to work here. I especially don't want to work here for the pittance that you're so boldly offering for my services. If I didn't need to eat, I wouldn't waste my valuable time talking to you. I could find better things to do like looking for other worthwhile ventures and opportunities where I can put my talent and imagination to good use!"
"After ninety days, your benefits will become active. You'll get a 10% raise after a year of service." By then, the cost of living will have gone up 30%. I hope my benefits will cover the cost of anti-depressants.
“I'll work till I bleed; I’ll be exposed to dangerous conditions, chemicals, and faulty equipment, and you'll make a nice little profit. If I'm lucky, I won't break any bones or lose any limbs. If I do, I may ask you for some light work during my recovery, you'll give me some lame excuse about budget cuts or a slow season!”
My bones won't heal properly because I had to get a Medicaid cast instead of the nice fiberglass one that the company insurance pays for. Sometimes my improperly healed bone will cause me so much pain that I won't be able to get out of bed. I'll call in sick and be told that if I don't come in, not to bother at all. This will happen on my 89th day on the job.
I'll call my doctor for a note of excusal, but I'll have to leave a message with his answering service who will tell me that he's on vacation and will return my call at his earliest convenience. I'll make an appointment to see him, which will be cancelled due to his over flow of Blue Cross patients who booked appointments three weeks, prior. Maybe he can see me sometime next month.
Today, I don't feel any pain so I'll take the bus downtown and apply for another job.
I'll be asked..."Why do you want to work here?"
The large blue sign over the archway of the wrought iron gate that serves as the entrance to the Academy evokes images of rippling creeks and quiet meadows; a serene environment of contemplation and study. One can almost hear in the distance the sounds of a friendly game of tag or monkey in the middle. The sign reads The Oliver Canton Academy for the Social Reform and Rehabilitation of Wayward Young Men. After obtaining clearance with the Security Force, we were greeted by a very polite yet quite serious young man of about ten years of age. I thought it rather odd that this little fellow was wearing a bowler cap. Who wears bowler caps anymore anyway? We followed the boy as he led us through the apple orchards, into a large courtyard that was bustling with activity, and into a gated complex of buildings that reminded one of the Pentagon; that symbol of nationalist might that we had read about in school. It had been destroyed during The War of the Atonement; the turning point in our history when war and injustice was finally outlawed globally by The Council of Mentors who would oversee our safety and re-education during The Great Reconstruction. To insure against any future conflicts, The Council of Mentors established academies around the globe which trained and monitored young men who were perceived as potential threats in later life. They were taught a trade and instructed in good citizenship under the watchful eyes of The Mentors. Every word, every thought, every deed was recorded to be used as evidence against offenders during The Judgments which were carried out swiftly and severely. The administration was headed by the grandson of the Academy's founder for whom it is named. Oliver Canton III was only eight years old when he was elected by the council and had already served two years as its Executive Administrator when little Tommy Major was brought in by the authorities on charges of Theft for the Sheer Amusement of It. It was a serious charge and he was sentenced to hard labor in the Academy's Boot Factory. It was in the factory where most of the boys started their re-education. It was very hot at 104 degrees and the boys had to wear specially designed masks that reconstituted the hellish fumes from the melting rubber into breathable oxygen. Often, after the day's work, some of the boys would meet under the old sewage pipe that led to a barren crevice once known as a river, out of the sight of the Mentors, and shoot craps while they drank liquor that had been stolen from the derelicts from the city's skid row. The liquor was supplied by a brave group of boys who had discovered a way to go AWOL without being detected by the Mentors. They would trudge through the mudfields that separated the Academy from the nearest town and relieve the unconscious drunks of their next morning's supply of happy juice. Tommy Major was the new kid. He was very gullible and was easily lured into this young group of mischief mongers. Tommy also bore an uncanny resemblance to Oliver Canton and it did not go unnoticed by the young administrator. Canton had heard rumors of the nocturnal escapades of this group of miscreants and became determined to learn for himself how they managed to evade the watchful eyes of the Mentors. Using his likeness to the Major boy, Oliver gained his trust by suggesting that Tommy may be a relative of his and may be entitled by birth to certain rights and priviliges.But it must be kept secret since accusations of favoritism could arise. Several months had passed since Tommy's arrival at the Academy when one day Oliver decided to implement a plan he had been devising to unearth the truth of the renegade boys' methods of escaping detection by the Mentors. After all, Oliver was a 10 year old boy just like Tommy and the rest of the boys at the Academy. Oliver’s life had become dull and mundane. Everyday since his election, Oliver has had to answer to the council and although he was Executive Administrator, it was a puppet position which held very little power or importance. His title was merely dynastic and used by the mentors to foster empathy from the boys. Oliver was a role model; a kind of poster child exemplifying what the boys could become with hard work and total obedience to the Mentors. Oliver summoned Tommy to his office and disclosed his plan. They would trade places. For one week Tommy would act as Executive Administrator and Oliver would go out among the other boys to observe the methods by which they were able to elude the watchful eyes of the Mentors. He worked with them in the Boot Factory, ate with them in the mess hall and went with them to the old sewage pipe. He journeyed through the mudfields to the city with the liquor bandits and as beginner's luck would have it, won a few rounds of craps. The floodlights temporarily blinded the boys at the old sewage pipe. They were arrested and sent to The Judgment Camp for the Impossibly Untrainable. Meanwhile, Tommy Major was becoming quite accustomed to his comfortable new life. No one, not even his closest aids or even the Mentors suspected that a switch had taken place. He happily oversaw the operations of the Boot Factory and reported to the Mentors all that he observed at the Academy.
Chemical Imbalance
She was talking incessantly. I felt something was wrong. When she started dancing on the hood of her car and baring her breasts, I knew something was definitely wrong! I tried to calm her down, but she started screaming at me. This attracted the attention of the police. I was very glad to see them; I thought they would help me to get her some help. She was having a manic episode and I wanted to get her into a hospital fast. I was afraid the police would haul her off to jail for lewd and disruptive behaviour. I explained to them that she needed medical attention and they asked her some questions. “What’s your name,” “What day is it,” “Who is the President of the United States?” She was able to answer all of the questions correctly, so the police figured she was fine. After they left, she continued with the spectacle. Again, I tried to coax her into letting me take her to the hospital, but this time, she ran.
I managed to corner her in the subway station, and I asked the token booth clerk to call an ambulance. The police came instead. They were different officers this time, and they asked her the same questions. She also told them that I was some crazy man who hadn’t taken his medication and was harassing her. They threatened to arrest me if I didn’t leave her alone. Had she been anyone else, I probably would have heeded their warning. However, she happened to be my girlfriend and we were living together. I had to get her some help.
Like, I gotta write this paper for my English class
know what I’m saying,
so I can’t use contractions, so I’ll say can not instead of can’t, and whatever.
And like, you know, I like, really gotta like, pass this class cuz like,
if I don’t, know what I’m saying,then I’ll have to take it again,
cuz I can’t like have anything less than an A if I’m like gonna like,become a lawyer or a doctor,cuz I mean like,
this is the last class I have to take before I graduate and like,
I don’t wanna have to spend another semester takin’ this class again.
Know what I’m sayin’?
The Masque of the Red Death;An essay by MASTER NIGHT
Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel...Samuel Johnson
Symbolism in Gothic and Biblical Literature and the use of The Psychology of Fear against the citizens of Post 911 America.
Edgar Allen Poe's character Prince Prospero in The Masque of The Red Death offers an escape from the plague,which would eventually diminish by one third,the population of Europe,by barricading himself and one thousand guests into his gated home.All is well with dancing and merriment as the utilization of the Psychology of Fear by Prince Prospero on his unsuspecting guests holds them captive in their own web of denial."Do not fret my friends!It will not harm you as long as you are here!"Ah, but what self-deception lies in his good intentions.Death will visit everyone once;and as the revelry commences,their well intentioned 'friend' ultimately fails to protect them from the inevitable.All of the signs are there,yet they do not see them for they are drunk with the false sense of security that has been instilled in them by Prince Prospero.
Terrorism in the world today possibly posseses the the same destructive power as The Bubonic Plague in Prince Prospero's time;even greater if the use of weapons of mass destruction wer to be employed by either side in the War on Terror.Our Homeland Security Department,our President,and our military can be likened, for example,to Prince Prospero in the sense; that they offer us the false blanket of security with closed borders,surveillance of citizens,and our willingness to sacrifice certain civil rights and freedoms in an attempt to elude our final visitor.
Let us ,for the sake of argument,examine the state of Post 911 America and the wold as the scenario of Poe's story.The privileged few are invited to attend the ball are of the Aristocracy.The wealthy class;those who have influence and the wealth to lead a decimated society to reconstruction and renewed prosperity.We'll seal our borders;allow only those who can obtain clearance to attend the party of the faithful who adhere to the rules administered by our host,the President,and his cohorts in the War Department and Homeland Security who repeatedly attempt to reassure us that the War on Terror is outside of our gates and can not possibly enter the Great American Masque Ball and impose death our citizens.So too do the attendees of The Masque of The Red Death place their security on faith based on the promises of Prince Prospero.
It is believed by some that certain schools of thought in Islamic radicalism envision an Apocalyptic scenario where God's armies would defeat the infidels and establish an Islamic religious world order.If in theory the ratio of Muslim vs non-Muslim were 2 to 1,Islamic radicalism would have to eradicate one third of the world's population to achieve this end.Those who survive could be subjected to slavery or genocide.
The Masque of The Red Death and The Book of the Revelations of St. John the Divine are both rich in symbolism especially in the use of color to symbolize timelines and degrees of fear as the reader anticipates the climactic conclusion of both visions of partial annihilation;those who are saved, and those who are not.Whether one has The Seal of God on his forehead,or if we are living behind sealed borders protected by our government,or within the confines of Prince Prospero's gates,our visitor will arrive.
The Red Horse in Saint John's apocalyptic vision,as a symbol of war and man's inhumanity towards man,in comparison to this particular work of Poe's,serves as an example of a plague,if you will;as Terrorism is the current plague threatening the safety of the world's inhabitants.The potential use of nuclear,chemical,and biological weapons by either side in the War on Terror threatens to reduce by an estimated one third,the entire population of our planet.The suffering of the victims of The Bubonic Plague can be weighed equally with the suffering of the victims of an attack by terrorists as pestilence and conflict between the survivors would abound.It will affect those who are sheltered in their bunkers and safe havens who will eventually fall victim to a damged environment,scarcity of medical care,and crime and acts of barbarism not only by those who would seek power,but also by those merely seeking to survive.
In Poe's story,the room with the scarlet curtains is the room that immediately precedes the final room which houses the ebony clock.It is in this room that the mysterious masked figure enters the scene.The Scarlet Curtains,the Red Horse of the Revelation,and The Red Death (actually,The Black Death is how The Bubonic Plague is historically referred),symbolizes the imminent reality of the end of civilization as we've come to know it,or the end of human life itself.It is in this room that Death manifests itself as the cataclysmic participant in this race with destiny and proceeds to claim,what is rightfully as regulated by the laws of nature,it's due.There is no escape!The Ebony Clock will sound it's chimes!The revelers once secure in the belief that iron gates and doctrines will protect them,will become aware,mouths agape,that the final chime has been struck.Thus,the promises of Prince Prospero and our 'leadership' becomes null and void.
Edgar Allen Poe's "The Masque of The Red Death"issues forth a lesson.Our status in society and all of our fortifications will not serve to spare us the horrors of pestilence,famine,and war.It will come on cosmic horses,in the guise of false saviours,or in signs and wonders.There will be proclamations of safety and security.We can raise our daggers or absorb ourselves into self indulgent oblivion and denial,but our visitor will penetrate the gates,dance through the corridors,and present himself in the final room which houses the Ebony Clock;The clock that can not be stopped or rewound.
No one loves the man whom he fears.....Aristotle
Whom men fear they hate, and whom they hate, they wish dead.....Quintus Ennius
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the Earth shall awake. Some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.....Daniel 12:2
Galvanize; To stimulate to muscular action by electricity-To rouse to action;startle;excite...Webster's Dictionary
Imagination has always had the powers of resurrection that no science can match...Ingrid Bengis
The year 1818 was a very good year for the dead. Three decades earlier in the 1790's,Italian physician Luigi Galvani's experiments in the reanimation of dead tissue in frogs through the use of controlled electric current sparked interest in the possibility of Humankind's conquest of death, and therefore, hope for eternal physical life.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's masterpiece 'Frankenstein (pronounced Fronkensteen);The Modern Prometheus, was conceived during a visit with her lover, the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1814 to their friend Lord Byron (another poet of the Romantic era) at the Villa Diodati near Lake Geneva, Switzerland in June,1816.It was the 'Year Without A Summer' due to the eruption of Tambora in 1815 and poor weather forced Lord Byron and his guests to remain homebound where they would pass the time reading the book 'Fantasmagoria';a collection of German ghost stories.
One evening Lord Byron challenged each of his guests to write a ghost story. It is believed that Opium was the recreational drug in literary circles at that time and that a drug induced 'waking dream' may have inspired Mary to create what would become Frankenstein.
Frankenstein was completed on May 14, 1817 and published on January 1, 1818. A second edition was published in two volumes on August 11,1823. A heavily revised edition with a new introduction by the author appeared on October 31,1831. This is the version most widely read today although the 1818 edition is still published and it is still preferred by some scholars, as it contains the original spirit of this work.
Although the novel technically begins with a narration by Captain Walton as he describes his meeting with Victor Frankenstein in the Arctic, the story of Frankenstein and his creature actually begins in 1776 when Victor, despondent over the death of his mother, who had fallen victim to Scarlet Fever, vows to put an end to death.
In 1793 while in Germany at the University of Ingolstadt, Victor begins experimenting with electricity and it's potential to reanimate dead tissue; using corpses, which he exhumes from a local graveyard. Raw materials.In time, Frankenstein succeeds in fashioning a man; utilizing harnessed electricity to stimulate and reanimate this being created from dead tissue. It moves. "It's Alive!" he cries. But is it? This creature is comprised of the cells of many men! If a man's memory is stored in his cells, then could this creature be one man with many souls?
As we become more acquainted with the creature, we learn that he is a kind and compassionate vegetarian who plays the flute, is well read and speaks with great eloquence. He is obviously the culmination of the memories, educations and experiences of the many parts; as well as the ancestries of these parts, of which he is composed.
He is also very lonely.
Rejected by his maker; shunned, scorned and hated by the rest of humanity due solely to the hideousness of his appearance, the creature, upon learning of his origins, begins to foster vengeance in his heart and seeks retribution from Victor for his wretched existence. He demands that Victor provide him with a companion; just as everything else in creation has its counterpart, he needs someone just like him who will be impartial to his appearance, non-judgemental, unaccepted, and content to live out their lives in exile. Victor’s refusal to grant this request prompts the creature to demonstrate to his creator just how serious he is by ripping the heart out of the chest of Victor's beloved new bride, Elizabeth on their wedding night.
Overcome with grief, Victor restores life to his cherished bride, and in his haste, fails to restore her to her original beauty. Victor loves her nonetheless, and is happy to accept her as she is.
Victor’s monster upon seeing the horribly disfigured, reanimated corpse, claims her as his own. The ensuing battle between creator and creation ultimately results in the destruction of this 'corpse bride' and Victor becomes a haunted man for the rest of his days.Vowing to destroy that which haunts him, Victor pursues the creature who leads him to the Arctic Circle where upon their final confrontation, the creature wants to know what he is and why; certainly not to exist merely to survive a life of rejection, hatred and bitter loneliness.
It is quite evident that the name of 'Victor' for Shelley's ill-fated character derives from the poem 'Paradise Lost' by John Milton who was a great influence on her. In this poem, Milton frequently refers to God as 'the Victor' and Shelley portrays Victor as playing God by creating life. Victor was also once a pen name of Percy Shelley's.The story parallels events not only in the lives of the Shelley’s, but also in the medical, scientific, and intellectual communities of their time.
Galvani’s work was continued by his nephew Giovanni Aldini who in 1803 performed experiments in public upon the severed heads of condemned criminals. On November 4, 1818, Dr.Ure and Professor Jeffray of Glasgow University performed an experiment at the Glasgow University Anatomy Theatre on the body of convicted murderer Matthew Clydesdale who had been sentenced to hanging and anatomization for killing a seventy year old man while in a drunken rage. The bodies of executed criminals were frequently used for medical and scientific research. Raw materials.
It has been nearly two hundred years since the first publication of Frankenstein. Science has made great strides in the last fifty years. Life expectancy rates have doubled and some people are living healthy lives well into their eighties and nineties. Once fatal diseases are now treated or cured with simple over the counter medications or a fifteen minute visit to a doctor's office. Organ transplantation, limb and joint replacement, blood transfusions and cosmetic procedures have become commonplace. Defibrillators are used routinely to reactivate hearts that have stopped beating.Bionics, Robotics; and Cryogenics may one day render natural death obsolete.
Reanimation of the dead is no longer confined to the dark laboratories of mad scientists. Today it is possible for someone like Dr.Frankenstein to receive government funding for research on dead or living tissue for the advancement of medicine or military purposes. Cloning a beloved pet, a stillborn child, Grandma and Grandpa, or fallen troops are not only possible, but achievable within our lifetime or that of our children.
Life as nature intended it, is designed to accommodate death. Death makes way for new life. Humankind may eventually suffer the consequences for treading on creative territory that once exclusively God's or Nature's as our ecology and resources are ravaged and exhausted by an over-populated planet. Tampering with the natural cycle of existence and annihilation is to ask for total annihilation.
MASTER NIGHT'S ESSAYS
Back to The Dark World Of Master Night
Wrong Turn?
When I was floating around in the cosmos between my last, and this incarnation, I accidentally made a right turn. I could have turned left and taken birth on a distant planet in another solar system where everything could have been more perfect. There must have been a good reason for my coming here. I was fine where I was. This is a beautiful and wondrous planet. It is creature friendly, although its creatures are not always so friendly. It doesn't seem to matter what species they are, it seems as though there are always predators among them.
Naked
I weigh 175 pounds...naked.
I don't want to carry anything! My clothing weighs too much. And then I have to carry around a wallet, a set of keys, loose change, jewelry and the fillings in my teeth. Let’s not forget my pager, cellphone and planner for which I need a pen.
When I go to work, I need my helmet and mask; at least six pounds. Steel-toed boots containing tired feet that seem to be waging a losing battle with the gravity that holds them captive to the Earth. My toolbox wouldn't weigh much if I didn't have to put so much stuff in it. I need nails for my hammer, screws for my screwdriver, nuts for my bolts, and pliers and wrenches for both, bits for my drill and my company ID which allows me onto the job site.
Of course I must keep up my strength if I'm going to carry all of this stuff around. Aside from carrying my breakfast around in my belly for half a day, I must now carry a lunchbox stuffed with sandwiches, a drink, an apple, a banana and a small potato salad.
When the workday is over, I’ll hang up my helmet and mask and take off the boots. My sneakers weigh nothing and I feel as though gravity has released its grip on me. The lunch box is empty although I'm still carrying the sandwiches, fruit and potato salad.
When I get home, I’m taking off all of my clothes. Then I'll be back to my normal weight...175 pounds.
Plus the potato salad.
I don't want to carry anything! My clothing weighs too much. And then I have to carry around a wallet, a set of keys, loose change, jewelry and the fillings in my teeth. Let’s not forget my pager, cellphone and planner for which I need a pen.
When I go to work, I need my helmet and mask; at least six pounds. Steel-toed boots containing tired feet that seem to be waging a losing battle with the gravity that holds them captive to the Earth. My toolbox wouldn't weigh much if I didn't have to put so much stuff in it. I need nails for my hammer, screws for my screwdriver, nuts for my bolts, and pliers and wrenches for both, bits for my drill and my company ID which allows me onto the job site.
Of course I must keep up my strength if I'm going to carry all of this stuff around. Aside from carrying my breakfast around in my belly for half a day, I must now carry a lunchbox stuffed with sandwiches, a drink, an apple, a banana and a small potato salad.
When the workday is over, I’ll hang up my helmet and mask and take off the boots. My sneakers weigh nothing and I feel as though gravity has released its grip on me. The lunch box is empty although I'm still carrying the sandwiches, fruit and potato salad.
When I get home, I’m taking off all of my clothes. Then I'll be back to my normal weight...175 pounds.
Plus the potato salad.
Playing the Piano
Playing the piano is like walking around the neighborhood.
Once you know your way around,
you know which cat is sitting on which porch
waiting for the mouse that he has been stalking.
You know which dogs are friendly and which ones will bite.
You know which doorway you can stand in when it's raining,
which alley to run through when you need to escape,
which fire escape to climb when you need shelter.
You know where to look when you need to find something.
You know which butcher to go to when you need a particular cut,
which barber to go to when you want a personal style,
where to find a tailor for the right suit for that special occasion.
You know where to take your friend who is visiting from out of town
and where not to take your mother.
You know where to put the garbage
and when the garbage is picked up.
You know what to put where on which day
so you don't have to pay a fine.
You know when and where and when and where not to say something.
You know how to look for the holes in the road;
which ones to fill and which ones to go around.
Which hole in the wall will fill your void.
The Job Interview
Opportunity for advancement
401k, medical, dental
Apply today!
I set up an interview for 8:00 am. I donned my best suit which I usually reserve for funerals, and set out, resume' in hand.
I was greeted warmly by an attractive brunette who handed me an application and resumed her cell phone conversation with the girl in Human Resources in the next office. I could hear them talking to each other in stereo from my seat.
Finally, I was called into the office. After exchanging half-hearted pleasantries and handshakes, I was told to have a seat while my prospective new employer perused my application and resume'. “So tell me...why do you want to work here?" I could feel my blood pressure rising as I felt obligated to answer this particularly stupid and mundane question.
"What gives you the idea that I want to work here? What makes you so sure that I want to work at all? And you want me to do what!? I don't want to work here. I especially don't want to work here for the pittance that you're so boldly offering for my services. If I didn't need to eat, I wouldn't waste my valuable time talking to you. I could find better things to do like looking for other worthwhile ventures and opportunities where I can put my talent and imagination to good use!"
"After ninety days, your benefits will become active. You'll get a 10% raise after a year of service." By then, the cost of living will have gone up 30%. I hope my benefits will cover the cost of anti-depressants.
“I'll work till I bleed; I’ll be exposed to dangerous conditions, chemicals, and faulty equipment, and you'll make a nice little profit. If I'm lucky, I won't break any bones or lose any limbs. If I do, I may ask you for some light work during my recovery, you'll give me some lame excuse about budget cuts or a slow season!”
My bones won't heal properly because I had to get a Medicaid cast instead of the nice fiberglass one that the company insurance pays for. Sometimes my improperly healed bone will cause me so much pain that I won't be able to get out of bed. I'll call in sick and be told that if I don't come in, not to bother at all. This will happen on my 89th day on the job.
I'll call my doctor for a note of excusal, but I'll have to leave a message with his answering service who will tell me that he's on vacation and will return my call at his earliest convenience. I'll make an appointment to see him, which will be cancelled due to his over flow of Blue Cross patients who booked appointments three weeks, prior. Maybe he can see me sometime next month.
Today, I don't feel any pain so I'll take the bus downtown and apply for another job.
I'll be asked..."Why do you want to work here?"
The Double Burger Flipper
One day I'll make a million dollars! That's not a lot of money for some people. How will I make this million? I don't know. But I do know that lesser men than myself have achieved greater heights than I ever aspired to. I certainly won't make my million dollars swinging a hammer, lifting a shovel or pushing a stone. Nope! Instead....
I flip burgers at Greasy Dave's and I dream of one day becoming the president of a chain of greasy burger joints. Just to show my boss that I'm up to the task, I show up for work with my custom made Double Burger Flipper, so I could serve twice as many in half the time. He likes that! My boss likes it so much that once a year I get a twenty dollar bonus to put away toward my million. Every now and then I get to take some leftover burgers home to my dog Stinky. Just think of the money I save on dog food. I put that away toward my million!
I get up every morning at 6:00.I get to sleep late, thanks to my Double Burger Flipper. Everyone else has to be clocked in by six for the breakfast rush.I get to clock in at 7:30 just in time for the hurried workers who want a quick fried egg sandwich to eat on their way to work. I can serve two at a time with my custom made Double Burger Flipper. I get an hour for lunch when everyone else gets only half an hour. My lunch is free; on the boss. The other employees only have to pay half price. One of the fringe benefits. That’s another 50% I save toward my million.
Every morning, my boss sends a car to drive me to work, and I get a ride home from someone who's going my way. I’m able to put the $3.00 a day I save on bus fare away toward my million dollars. I get a free uniform and great benefits. I get compliments and praise from my fellow workers, and my picture will be appearing in The Community Shopper since I have won The Employee of the Month award. I’ll get a $25.00 award that I could add to my million dollars. Thanks to my Double Burger Flipper.
My girlfriend told me that I should patent my Double Burger Flipper and sell it on TV.I could probably make a million dollars. But only I know how to use it. I’ve got this magic twist of the wrist that makes it work. Besides, if everybody had one, it would lose its uniqueness and my boss' burger joint wouldn't be so special anymore. I could lose my job! After all, my boss is making millions!
I flip burgers at Greasy Dave's and I dream of one day becoming the president of a chain of greasy burger joints. Just to show my boss that I'm up to the task, I show up for work with my custom made Double Burger Flipper, so I could serve twice as many in half the time. He likes that! My boss likes it so much that once a year I get a twenty dollar bonus to put away toward my million. Every now and then I get to take some leftover burgers home to my dog Stinky. Just think of the money I save on dog food. I put that away toward my million!
I get up every morning at 6:00.I get to sleep late, thanks to my Double Burger Flipper. Everyone else has to be clocked in by six for the breakfast rush.I get to clock in at 7:30 just in time for the hurried workers who want a quick fried egg sandwich to eat on their way to work. I can serve two at a time with my custom made Double Burger Flipper. I get an hour for lunch when everyone else gets only half an hour. My lunch is free; on the boss. The other employees only have to pay half price. One of the fringe benefits. That’s another 50% I save toward my million.
Every morning, my boss sends a car to drive me to work, and I get a ride home from someone who's going my way. I’m able to put the $3.00 a day I save on bus fare away toward my million dollars. I get a free uniform and great benefits. I get compliments and praise from my fellow workers, and my picture will be appearing in The Community Shopper since I have won The Employee of the Month award. I’ll get a $25.00 award that I could add to my million dollars. Thanks to my Double Burger Flipper.
My girlfriend told me that I should patent my Double Burger Flipper and sell it on TV.I could probably make a million dollars. But only I know how to use it. I’ve got this magic twist of the wrist that makes it work. Besides, if everybody had one, it would lose its uniqueness and my boss' burger joint wouldn't be so special anymore. I could lose my job! After all, my boss is making millions!
The Academy
The large blue sign over the archway of the wrought iron gate that serves as the entrance to the Academy evokes images of rippling creeks and quiet meadows; a serene environment of contemplation and study. One can almost hear in the distance the sounds of a friendly game of tag or monkey in the middle. The sign reads The Oliver Canton Academy for the Social Reform and Rehabilitation of Wayward Young Men. After obtaining clearance with the Security Force, we were greeted by a very polite yet quite serious young man of about ten years of age. I thought it rather odd that this little fellow was wearing a bowler cap. Who wears bowler caps anymore anyway? We followed the boy as he led us through the apple orchards, into a large courtyard that was bustling with activity, and into a gated complex of buildings that reminded one of the Pentagon; that symbol of nationalist might that we had read about in school. It had been destroyed during The War of the Atonement; the turning point in our history when war and injustice was finally outlawed globally by The Council of Mentors who would oversee our safety and re-education during The Great Reconstruction. To insure against any future conflicts, The Council of Mentors established academies around the globe which trained and monitored young men who were perceived as potential threats in later life. They were taught a trade and instructed in good citizenship under the watchful eyes of The Mentors. Every word, every thought, every deed was recorded to be used as evidence against offenders during The Judgments which were carried out swiftly and severely. The administration was headed by the grandson of the Academy's founder for whom it is named. Oliver Canton III was only eight years old when he was elected by the council and had already served two years as its Executive Administrator when little Tommy Major was brought in by the authorities on charges of Theft for the Sheer Amusement of It. It was a serious charge and he was sentenced to hard labor in the Academy's Boot Factory. It was in the factory where most of the boys started their re-education. It was very hot at 104 degrees and the boys had to wear specially designed masks that reconstituted the hellish fumes from the melting rubber into breathable oxygen. Often, after the day's work, some of the boys would meet under the old sewage pipe that led to a barren crevice once known as a river, out of the sight of the Mentors, and shoot craps while they drank liquor that had been stolen from the derelicts from the city's skid row. The liquor was supplied by a brave group of boys who had discovered a way to go AWOL without being detected by the Mentors. They would trudge through the mudfields that separated the Academy from the nearest town and relieve the unconscious drunks of their next morning's supply of happy juice. Tommy Major was the new kid. He was very gullible and was easily lured into this young group of mischief mongers. Tommy also bore an uncanny resemblance to Oliver Canton and it did not go unnoticed by the young administrator. Canton had heard rumors of the nocturnal escapades of this group of miscreants and became determined to learn for himself how they managed to evade the watchful eyes of the Mentors. Using his likeness to the Major boy, Oliver gained his trust by suggesting that Tommy may be a relative of his and may be entitled by birth to certain rights and priviliges.But it must be kept secret since accusations of favoritism could arise. Several months had passed since Tommy's arrival at the Academy when one day Oliver decided to implement a plan he had been devising to unearth the truth of the renegade boys' methods of escaping detection by the Mentors. After all, Oliver was a 10 year old boy just like Tommy and the rest of the boys at the Academy. Oliver’s life had become dull and mundane. Everyday since his election, Oliver has had to answer to the council and although he was Executive Administrator, it was a puppet position which held very little power or importance. His title was merely dynastic and used by the mentors to foster empathy from the boys. Oliver was a role model; a kind of poster child exemplifying what the boys could become with hard work and total obedience to the Mentors. Oliver summoned Tommy to his office and disclosed his plan. They would trade places. For one week Tommy would act as Executive Administrator and Oliver would go out among the other boys to observe the methods by which they were able to elude the watchful eyes of the Mentors. He worked with them in the Boot Factory, ate with them in the mess hall and went with them to the old sewage pipe. He journeyed through the mudfields to the city with the liquor bandits and as beginner's luck would have it, won a few rounds of craps. The floodlights temporarily blinded the boys at the old sewage pipe. They were arrested and sent to The Judgment Camp for the Impossibly Untrainable. Meanwhile, Tommy Major was becoming quite accustomed to his comfortable new life. No one, not even his closest aids or even the Mentors suspected that a switch had taken place. He happily oversaw the operations of the Boot Factory and reported to the Mentors all that he observed at the Academy.
What Will The Neighbors Think?
I was visiting a friend at her fancy apartment in the ritzier part of town. She doesn't smoke. A cigarette doesn't taste as good if you wait too long after a meal. I didn't want to go outside. I thought I would be perceived as rude if I preferred my cigarette to my friend’s company. My friend told me that I could smoke by the window. I opened the window and leaned out to smoke; I didn't want to stink up her house so I leaned out as far as I could so that no smoke would drift in.
In the South Bronx, Washington Heights, or certain sections of Brooklyn, people lean out of their windows all the time to smoke, talk to a neighbor, or just to be present without having to go downstairs. No one thinks anything of it. It is a non-issue.
Of course, this is The Upper West Side. What will the neighbors think? People pay a lot of money to live here and if they wanted to see people leaning out of windows, they would move to the lower income areas where people have nothing better to do but lean out of their windows because they are too lazy to come downstairs. My friend pays a lot of money to live here and she doesn't want her neighbors to think that she came from one of these areas to devalue their property by having someone like me leaning out of her window.
I was called home to serve as a pallbearer at my favorite aunt’s funeral. I had been working hard lately and the only clothes I had was what I usually wore to work. I pressed the only pair of pants I had that didn't have holes in them and found an oversized collared shirt that I was going to leave outside for the shirtless. I did not own a tie. I stopped by the Bodega and bought a rose to put on my dear deceased aunt's coffin. It cost $1.99. When I arrived at the wake, I noticed that all of these relatives that I did not know were dressed to the nines. My sister, who was presiding over the festivities, commented on my choice of attire. My aunt never cared what I wore and she certainly did not care now. But, what will the neighbors think?
I gave an old lady my umbrella when she got caught in a storm. I returned the money that the blind man dropped. I paid the merchant his price. They are my neighbors also. I rescued an injured puppy once. The neighbors complained that he barked too much.
I leave my empty cans out to be redeemed by the hungry homeless man who sleeps under the skylight in my building. The neighbors reported me to the Co-op Board for leaving the cans out. They said it was attracting bugs. I never saw any bugs. The neighbors call the police on him when they catch him trying to stay warm by the furnace in the basement on cold days. They usually catch him when they go down there to get their mail; thank you cards from charities the neighbors donate their tax deductible dollars to, credit card bills, and campaign leaflets from local politicians who are running on the 'rights for all' ticket.
The neighbors spray their garbage with so much bug spray that any leftover food that they would throw out is unuseable.Sometimes the neighbors throw out a perfectly good lamp, TV, or other appliance that can be resold or donated to help the needy. The neighbors cut the cord or smash in the screen so that the garbage pickers can't re-sell it.
The neighbors held a meeting last week to vote on the installation of surveillance cameras to monitor their neighbors, and barbed wire to keep the other neighbors out.
In the South Bronx, Washington Heights, or certain sections of Brooklyn, people lean out of their windows all the time to smoke, talk to a neighbor, or just to be present without having to go downstairs. No one thinks anything of it. It is a non-issue.
Of course, this is The Upper West Side. What will the neighbors think? People pay a lot of money to live here and if they wanted to see people leaning out of windows, they would move to the lower income areas where people have nothing better to do but lean out of their windows because they are too lazy to come downstairs. My friend pays a lot of money to live here and she doesn't want her neighbors to think that she came from one of these areas to devalue their property by having someone like me leaning out of her window.
I was called home to serve as a pallbearer at my favorite aunt’s funeral. I had been working hard lately and the only clothes I had was what I usually wore to work. I pressed the only pair of pants I had that didn't have holes in them and found an oversized collared shirt that I was going to leave outside for the shirtless. I did not own a tie. I stopped by the Bodega and bought a rose to put on my dear deceased aunt's coffin. It cost $1.99. When I arrived at the wake, I noticed that all of these relatives that I did not know were dressed to the nines. My sister, who was presiding over the festivities, commented on my choice of attire. My aunt never cared what I wore and she certainly did not care now. But, what will the neighbors think?
I gave an old lady my umbrella when she got caught in a storm. I returned the money that the blind man dropped. I paid the merchant his price. They are my neighbors also. I rescued an injured puppy once. The neighbors complained that he barked too much.
I leave my empty cans out to be redeemed by the hungry homeless man who sleeps under the skylight in my building. The neighbors reported me to the Co-op Board for leaving the cans out. They said it was attracting bugs. I never saw any bugs. The neighbors call the police on him when they catch him trying to stay warm by the furnace in the basement on cold days. They usually catch him when they go down there to get their mail; thank you cards from charities the neighbors donate their tax deductible dollars to, credit card bills, and campaign leaflets from local politicians who are running on the 'rights for all' ticket.
The neighbors spray their garbage with so much bug spray that any leftover food that they would throw out is unuseable.Sometimes the neighbors throw out a perfectly good lamp, TV, or other appliance that can be resold or donated to help the needy. The neighbors cut the cord or smash in the screen so that the garbage pickers can't re-sell it.
The neighbors held a meeting last week to vote on the installation of surveillance cameras to monitor their neighbors, and barbed wire to keep the other neighbors out.
Bi-Polar Lover
Chemical Imbalance
She was talking incessantly. I felt something was wrong. When she started dancing on the hood of her car and baring her breasts, I knew something was definitely wrong! I tried to calm her down, but she started screaming at me. This attracted the attention of the police. I was very glad to see them; I thought they would help me to get her some help. She was having a manic episode and I wanted to get her into a hospital fast. I was afraid the police would haul her off to jail for lewd and disruptive behaviour. I explained to them that she needed medical attention and they asked her some questions. “What’s your name,” “What day is it,” “Who is the President of the United States?” She was able to answer all of the questions correctly, so the police figured she was fine. After they left, she continued with the spectacle. Again, I tried to coax her into letting me take her to the hospital, but this time, she ran.
I managed to corner her in the subway station, and I asked the token booth clerk to call an ambulance. The police came instead. They were different officers this time, and they asked her the same questions. She also told them that I was some crazy man who hadn’t taken his medication and was harassing her. They threatened to arrest me if I didn’t leave her alone. Had she been anyone else, I probably would have heeded their warning. However, she happened to be my girlfriend and we were living together. I had to get her some help.
Get It While You Can
New York in mid-September can be a bit chilly. Particularly in the shade. The parks are usually quite sunny and some days , one can be comfortable in just a T-shirt. The morning of September 11, 2001 was one of these unusually warm mornings. My fellow Sidewalk Booksellers and I were out in full force with our best merchandise on the nicest day we've had since graduation. Then we needed a lot of Ken Kesey and Timothy Leary since all that were left were the aging hipsters. We had lengthy discussions about who would come earliest to secure the best spot on the block for himself. These were our concerns: That we can exercise our First Amendment Rights without harassment from some self proclaimed authority figure and that it doesn't rain. The New York University Administration and the NYU Bookstore cannot be counted among the number of supporters the Sidewalk Booksellers have acquired. We provided excellent books at a price that left the students with some money left over for beer or cell phone bills. And we sold dangerous literature. Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, Eastern Philosophy; maybe something off the wall like The Art of the Fart.There was a certain sense of freedom from the rigorous demands of their academic over-lords.
Ali, or maybe it was Muhammad, was the coffee guy. Every weekday morning at 4:00, Ali would be in the prime spot setting up his Coffee and Donut Cart.Ali was from Afghanistan. Ali used to extend credit to Booksellers who showed up in the morning with no money for coffee. Such was business in August as every business man knows. We always paid him after our first sale. After all, he had three wives and sixteen children to feed. Sometimes he would leave the leftover donuts,if there were any, for the Booksellers at the end of his shift.The morning was progressing nicely. The students, just awake and fresh from the ATM, were surfacing first singly, then in couples, then groups and herds! Twenty-five thousand wonderfully supported by daddy students everywhere with itchy palms.Oh, what a glorious day this will be!
The fragrance of the freshly watered shrubbery in Washington Square Park coupled with the aroma emanating from Ali's coffee cart prompted one to forget for a moment that a carbon monoxide based civilization such as New York City could possibly exist on a morning such as this. Instead we are momentarily, upon closing our eyes, transported by our imaginations, to a calmer time of Beatnik Coffeehouses and Parisian Sidewalk Artists. Far out daddio.I!
I inserted The Beatles' new CD '1' into my portable stereo. It is a great collection of #1 hits by The Fab Four that was released (re-mixed) for the Christmas shopping season. It is a proven scientific fact that playing Beatles' music increases sales. 'We Can Work It Out' sings Paul McCartney. ‘All You Need Is Love' pleads John Lennon. This attracted a more mature, monied clientele who would purchase our pricier items like 'The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test' or Timothy Leary's 'The Psychedelic Experience'...."Here Comes the Sun" proclaims a triumphant George Harrison..."And I say...it's alright!"It was a perfect morning.
Ali and I never spoke to each other much. He was quiet. Very friendly, yet very mysterious. I was mentioning to him that in all of my years in NYC, I had yet to see a butterfly. “Would you want to live in New York if you were a butterfly?"Ali replied. There was gentleness in this Middle Eastern man's voice. He reminded me of a Guru for a moment imparting some ancient wisdom that travelled from disciple to disciple over centuries destined to reach my ears. Tahiti...Florida...that's where I would live my short life-span if I were a butterfly.
This early in the morning, the students and Villagers would usually stroll leisurely by the book tables coffee in one hand a donut in the other. Some would stop and look. Maybe they'll buy something. Very often a conversation would develop between two strangers who were eyeing the same book. The book tables were the spawning ground of many lasting friendships as it attracted people of similar interests to one location where they had the opportunity to meet each other when they would otherwise have passed each other by.
Sometimes a career browser would spend what seemed like an hour rearranging my carefully crafted display only to tell me that they'd return another day to buy something. I always thought we only had today and everyday after that was a gift that not everyone was guaranteed to receive. “Get it now. You may miss your chance" I would tell them.
Suddenly, there was a disturbing uneasiness in our near-perfect world of fine literature, fragrances, and new found friendships. A crowd was gathering on the corner: their eyes were focused upward. Was it a bird? A plane? I asked a disheveled young man who was hurrying to the corner to join the gathering on La Guardia Place what was of such interest to the crowd on the corner. “Some idiot just crashed a plane into The World Trade Center!”
Within seconds The Beatles were drowned out by the sound of emergency vehicles' sirens blasting their way through the thoroughfares leading to downtown Manhattan. I quickly turned on the radio. What seemed like a hundred students gathered around my table to hear the news regarding the terrible accident that had taken place downtown. The second plane hit the south tower and we suddenly realized that this was no accident.
Within a couple of days, it appeared that Greenwich Village was returning to normal. The musicians and magicians were back in the park, the students were hurrying to class.
New York City had a new skyline, and here were The Booksellers. We never left. We couldn't leave. The areas south of Houston St. and north to 14th St. were closed by the NYPD and our drivers couldn't get to us to transport our stands back to our storage units which were now closed anyway for the next eleven days due to the attack.
Four days after the terrorist attack the smoke from Ground Zero reached our area and NYU Security distributed masks to anyone who requested them. Imagine, if you can, the sight of stranded Booksellers standing in a row looking like surgeons selling books to pay for their medical educations.After nearly two weeks of being stranded on West 4th St, the campus was beginning to look like a refugee camp. The streets were finally opened with some restrictions and we were able to leave. After a few days of rest we returned to ply our trade.
We never saw Ali again. In his stead was a cheerful old bald headed Romanian guy with his plump wife selling falafels. Who wants falafels for breakfast? We want our coffee and donuts!The career browser was back rearranging my perfect display. As he turned to leave without making a purchase, I called out to him. “Are you coming back to buy something another day?" "Yes, I’ll be back another day!" was his reply. I thought about all those people who died in the towers. All those browsers who said they'd be back another day. I would tell them "Get it now; you may miss your chance!"
Ali, or maybe it was Muhammad, was the coffee guy. Every weekday morning at 4:00, Ali would be in the prime spot setting up his Coffee and Donut Cart.Ali was from Afghanistan. Ali used to extend credit to Booksellers who showed up in the morning with no money for coffee. Such was business in August as every business man knows. We always paid him after our first sale. After all, he had three wives and sixteen children to feed. Sometimes he would leave the leftover donuts,if there were any, for the Booksellers at the end of his shift.The morning was progressing nicely. The students, just awake and fresh from the ATM, were surfacing first singly, then in couples, then groups and herds! Twenty-five thousand wonderfully supported by daddy students everywhere with itchy palms.Oh, what a glorious day this will be!
The fragrance of the freshly watered shrubbery in Washington Square Park coupled with the aroma emanating from Ali's coffee cart prompted one to forget for a moment that a carbon monoxide based civilization such as New York City could possibly exist on a morning such as this. Instead we are momentarily, upon closing our eyes, transported by our imaginations, to a calmer time of Beatnik Coffeehouses and Parisian Sidewalk Artists. Far out daddio.I!
I inserted The Beatles' new CD '1' into my portable stereo. It is a great collection of #1 hits by The Fab Four that was released (re-mixed) for the Christmas shopping season. It is a proven scientific fact that playing Beatles' music increases sales. 'We Can Work It Out' sings Paul McCartney. ‘All You Need Is Love' pleads John Lennon. This attracted a more mature, monied clientele who would purchase our pricier items like 'The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test' or Timothy Leary's 'The Psychedelic Experience'...."Here Comes the Sun" proclaims a triumphant George Harrison..."And I say...it's alright!"It was a perfect morning.
Ali and I never spoke to each other much. He was quiet. Very friendly, yet very mysterious. I was mentioning to him that in all of my years in NYC, I had yet to see a butterfly. “Would you want to live in New York if you were a butterfly?"Ali replied. There was gentleness in this Middle Eastern man's voice. He reminded me of a Guru for a moment imparting some ancient wisdom that travelled from disciple to disciple over centuries destined to reach my ears. Tahiti...Florida...that's where I would live my short life-span if I were a butterfly.
This early in the morning, the students and Villagers would usually stroll leisurely by the book tables coffee in one hand a donut in the other. Some would stop and look. Maybe they'll buy something. Very often a conversation would develop between two strangers who were eyeing the same book. The book tables were the spawning ground of many lasting friendships as it attracted people of similar interests to one location where they had the opportunity to meet each other when they would otherwise have passed each other by.
Sometimes a career browser would spend what seemed like an hour rearranging my carefully crafted display only to tell me that they'd return another day to buy something. I always thought we only had today and everyday after that was a gift that not everyone was guaranteed to receive. “Get it now. You may miss your chance" I would tell them.
Suddenly, there was a disturbing uneasiness in our near-perfect world of fine literature, fragrances, and new found friendships. A crowd was gathering on the corner: their eyes were focused upward. Was it a bird? A plane? I asked a disheveled young man who was hurrying to the corner to join the gathering on La Guardia Place what was of such interest to the crowd on the corner. “Some idiot just crashed a plane into The World Trade Center!”
Within seconds The Beatles were drowned out by the sound of emergency vehicles' sirens blasting their way through the thoroughfares leading to downtown Manhattan. I quickly turned on the radio. What seemed like a hundred students gathered around my table to hear the news regarding the terrible accident that had taken place downtown. The second plane hit the south tower and we suddenly realized that this was no accident.
Within a couple of days, it appeared that Greenwich Village was returning to normal. The musicians and magicians were back in the park, the students were hurrying to class.
New York City had a new skyline, and here were The Booksellers. We never left. We couldn't leave. The areas south of Houston St. and north to 14th St. were closed by the NYPD and our drivers couldn't get to us to transport our stands back to our storage units which were now closed anyway for the next eleven days due to the attack.
Four days after the terrorist attack the smoke from Ground Zero reached our area and NYU Security distributed masks to anyone who requested them. Imagine, if you can, the sight of stranded Booksellers standing in a row looking like surgeons selling books to pay for their medical educations.After nearly two weeks of being stranded on West 4th St, the campus was beginning to look like a refugee camp. The streets were finally opened with some restrictions and we were able to leave. After a few days of rest we returned to ply our trade.
We never saw Ali again. In his stead was a cheerful old bald headed Romanian guy with his plump wife selling falafels. Who wants falafels for breakfast? We want our coffee and donuts!The career browser was back rearranging my perfect display. As he turned to leave without making a purchase, I called out to him. “Are you coming back to buy something another day?" "Yes, I’ll be back another day!" was his reply. I thought about all those people who died in the towers. All those browsers who said they'd be back another day. I would tell them "Get it now; you may miss your chance!"
Tony
My best friend just died. We had been together for almost 20 years. He was a grumpy old man at 40.I thought him to be very wise. He had a terrible disposition. He hated people, especially gays and women.
Tuesday October 25 2005 2:15 am. It’s raining like hell. A book seller’s worst enemy is rain. I was on the phone with Mary when the sound of my call waiting interrupted our conversation. I knew who it was before I answered it. It was St. Vincent's hospital calling to tell me that Tony...my best friend of 18 years had expired at 12:43 am. Expired...what a fucked up word to describe the passing on of an old friend. Credit cards expire. My driver's license expired once. I had to go all the way to Florida to renew it. My carton of milk has an expiration date. It usually goes bad long before it's due to expire.
Jim had called me two nights earlier; " I think Tony's dead!"..."What!"... Jim, dramatic fatalist that he can be at times, eloquent and with flair unique only to Jim continues; “The cops took his books. He said he was going to the hospital and no one has seen or heard from him since. Even the Czech guys don't know where he is. You should call the hospitals and see if you can find out anything!” I called three hospitals that I thought would take a homeless bachelor with no money. No Tony. Ok Tony...I thought; I’ll bet you checked into Long Island Jewish Hospital just to fuck with us. You’re not going to pay the bill anyway so you'd may as well get the best treatment. And no one would think to look for you there; so no one will bother you. Called St. Vincent's..."Yeah we got 'im...he's in CCU." “Alright! He's gonna be okay then?"..."I can't tell you anything over the phone sir. Are you family?"..."He's my best friend. We’ve been together for eighteen years!"..."Hold on. I’ll transfer you"...
I left work early the next day to go see Tony after hearing that he looked bad. Tubes everywhere, unconcious.He hadn't looked so great lately. But then again he usually didn’t. He was in pain and was using a cane. Every one would tell me that they thought he wasn't long for this world.Well; he didn't really like it here anyway. I didn't see death for Tony. He had talked about going to the hospital. Finally!! I really thought that if he checked in, he’d get much needed rest, nutrition and treatment. He’d be a new man!
Tony loved gadgetry. His dream was to have a computer to create and finalize his musical masterpieces. I called it funeral music or a soundtrack from a cheap French porn flick. When I went to see him in CCU, I thought...Well Tony...you wish you had all of this equipment to play with. There were computers everywhere. One pumping his heart; one was breathing for him. There was even a neat little gizmo that served as his kidneys. How’d you like to see what kind of cool sounds you can get from your guitar if you plugged into that one! Man...there were cool graphics that looked like the sound waves you see when you're recording on Pro-Tools. All kinds of beeps and hums.Click, Pop...Whirr.
"Hey Tony Baloney! Wake up! If you can hear me, move your foot or your eyeballs or something...Come on buddy I came to visit you!"..."He's heavily sedated” said the nurse on duty. "We’d like to think that they can hear friends and family even though they can't respond. Go ahead and talk to him."..."Hey! Tony Baloney!"..."I don't want him to die alone” I said to the nurse “but I don't know if I want to sit here and wait for my friend to die.” I stayed for two hours. Even though five professionals told me that his chances of recovery were slim, I really believed he would recover. I figured in a couple of days I'd go buy him some Eastern European food.
I went to see Ziggy who was the first person to go see him. We talked about Tony and life and death for about an hour and then I went home. The phone rang..."Hi Mary."
Mary worked at the NYU Library. I’m not sure exactly what she did there, but I know she worked in the basement. Every now and then I'd see her talking to Tony. Well actually it seemed as if Tony was doing all of the talking.
On a nice weather day there would be as many as fifteen sidewalk booksellers lining West 4th Street in The Village. Sidewalk bookselling is a tradition in New York City. It was a great way to make a living or supplement one's income before the advent of the cell phone. Tony and I used to stand behind our well- stocked and beautifully displayed tables and count all the students who were talking on their cell phones to the person just up ahead. “I see you! I'll be there in five seconds." I wonder what that might have cost daddy. We used to joke about the cell phone junkies and how if they weren't so stoned on their phones they'd probably stop by the tables and maybe pick up a two dollar book. Hmm, let’s see… twenty-five thousand students times two dollars. To hell with daddy. It cost us plenty!
Mary would always buy something from us even if she didn't need it.
Tuesday October 25 2005 2:15 am. It’s raining like hell. A book seller’s worst enemy is rain. I was on the phone with Mary when the sound of my call waiting interrupted our conversation. I knew who it was before I answered it. It was St. Vincent's hospital calling to tell me that Tony...my best friend of 18 years had expired at 12:43 am. Expired...what a fucked up word to describe the passing on of an old friend. Credit cards expire. My driver's license expired once. I had to go all the way to Florida to renew it. My carton of milk has an expiration date. It usually goes bad long before it's due to expire.
Jim had called me two nights earlier; " I think Tony's dead!"..."What!"... Jim, dramatic fatalist that he can be at times, eloquent and with flair unique only to Jim continues; “The cops took his books. He said he was going to the hospital and no one has seen or heard from him since. Even the Czech guys don't know where he is. You should call the hospitals and see if you can find out anything!” I called three hospitals that I thought would take a homeless bachelor with no money. No Tony. Ok Tony...I thought; I’ll bet you checked into Long Island Jewish Hospital just to fuck with us. You’re not going to pay the bill anyway so you'd may as well get the best treatment. And no one would think to look for you there; so no one will bother you. Called St. Vincent's..."Yeah we got 'im...he's in CCU." “Alright! He's gonna be okay then?"..."I can't tell you anything over the phone sir. Are you family?"..."He's my best friend. We’ve been together for eighteen years!"..."Hold on. I’ll transfer you"...
I left work early the next day to go see Tony after hearing that he looked bad. Tubes everywhere, unconcious.He hadn't looked so great lately. But then again he usually didn’t. He was in pain and was using a cane. Every one would tell me that they thought he wasn't long for this world.Well; he didn't really like it here anyway. I didn't see death for Tony. He had talked about going to the hospital. Finally!! I really thought that if he checked in, he’d get much needed rest, nutrition and treatment. He’d be a new man!
Tony loved gadgetry. His dream was to have a computer to create and finalize his musical masterpieces. I called it funeral music or a soundtrack from a cheap French porn flick. When I went to see him in CCU, I thought...Well Tony...you wish you had all of this equipment to play with. There were computers everywhere. One pumping his heart; one was breathing for him. There was even a neat little gizmo that served as his kidneys. How’d you like to see what kind of cool sounds you can get from your guitar if you plugged into that one! Man...there were cool graphics that looked like the sound waves you see when you're recording on Pro-Tools. All kinds of beeps and hums.Click, Pop...Whirr.
"Hey Tony Baloney! Wake up! If you can hear me, move your foot or your eyeballs or something...Come on buddy I came to visit you!"..."He's heavily sedated” said the nurse on duty. "We’d like to think that they can hear friends and family even though they can't respond. Go ahead and talk to him."..."Hey! Tony Baloney!"..."I don't want him to die alone” I said to the nurse “but I don't know if I want to sit here and wait for my friend to die.” I stayed for two hours. Even though five professionals told me that his chances of recovery were slim, I really believed he would recover. I figured in a couple of days I'd go buy him some Eastern European food.
I went to see Ziggy who was the first person to go see him. We talked about Tony and life and death for about an hour and then I went home. The phone rang..."Hi Mary."
Mary worked at the NYU Library. I’m not sure exactly what she did there, but I know she worked in the basement. Every now and then I'd see her talking to Tony. Well actually it seemed as if Tony was doing all of the talking.
On a nice weather day there would be as many as fifteen sidewalk booksellers lining West 4th Street in The Village. Sidewalk bookselling is a tradition in New York City. It was a great way to make a living or supplement one's income before the advent of the cell phone. Tony and I used to stand behind our well- stocked and beautifully displayed tables and count all the students who were talking on their cell phones to the person just up ahead. “I see you! I'll be there in five seconds." I wonder what that might have cost daddy. We used to joke about the cell phone junkies and how if they weren't so stoned on their phones they'd probably stop by the tables and maybe pick up a two dollar book. Hmm, let’s see… twenty-five thousand students times two dollars. To hell with daddy. It cost us plenty!
Mary would always buy something from us even if she didn't need it.
People
High people
Stoned people
Computer literate people
Literate people, Illiterate people
Smart people, Not so smart people
Beautiful people, Ugly people, Plain people
White people, Black people, Oriental people
Rich people, Poor people, Hard working people, Homeless people
Talented people, Musical people, Artistic people, Movie people, Show biz people
Nice people, Mean people, Grumpy people, Callous people
Sighted people, Blind people, Deaf people, Mute people
Horny people, Sexy people, Frigid people
Licensed people, Unlicensed people
Hungry people, Gluttonous people
Religious people Psychic people
Athletic people, Weak people
Heavy people ,Funny people
Plant people, Flower people
Quiet people, Noisy people
Crazy people, Sane people
Sad people, Happy people
Mad people, Glad people
Animal people
Nosy people
Little people
Young People
Old People
Healthy people
Sick people
Dead people
People
High people
Stoned people
Computer literate people
Literate people, Illiterate people
Smart people, Not so smart people
Beautiful people, Ugly people, Plain people
White people, Black people, Oriental people
Rich people, Poor people, Hard working people, Homeless people
Talented people, Musical people, Artistic people, Movie people, Show biz people
Nice people, Mean people, Grumpy people, Callous people
Sighted people, Blind people, Deaf people, Mute people
Horny people, Sexy people, Frigid people
Licensed people, Unlicensed people
Hungry people, Gluttonous people
Religious people Psychic people
Athletic people, Weak people
Heavy people ,Funny people
Plant people, Flower people
Quiet people, Noisy people
Crazy people, Sane people
Sad people, Happy people
Mad people, Glad people
Animal people
Nosy people
Little people
Young People
Old People
Healthy people
Sick people
Dead people
People
Cuz, Like, Whatever,Know What I'm Sayin'?
Like, I gotta write this paper for my English class
know what I’m saying,
so I can’t use contractions, so I’ll say can not instead of can’t, and whatever.
And like, you know, I like, really gotta like, pass this class cuz like,
if I don’t, know what I’m saying,then I’ll have to take it again,
cuz I can’t like have anything less than an A if I’m like gonna like,become a lawyer or a doctor,cuz I mean like,
this is the last class I have to take before I graduate and like,
I don’t wanna have to spend another semester takin’ this class again.
Know what I’m sayin’?
Chains
Food chain,
Chain of command,
Missing link.
Chained prisoners,
Locked up in chains,
Chains of bondage,
Chains of slavery,
Women in chains,
Men in chains
Chain gang,
Ball and chain,
Restrained
Bicycle chain,
Chain ladder,
Chain letter.
Keychain,
Chain link fence,
Chains of addiction,
Chain smokers,
Daisy chain,
Chain of events,
Chain saw massacre,
Chain lightning,
Chain reaction.
Unchain my heart
Unchained melody,
Chains of love,
Chain of fools.
Gold chain,
Silver chain,
Iron chains.
Chains,
Unchained!
Chain of command,
Missing link.
Chained prisoners,
Locked up in chains,
Chains of bondage,
Chains of slavery,
Women in chains,
Men in chains
Chain gang,
Ball and chain,
Restrained
Bicycle chain,
Chain ladder,
Chain letter.
Keychain,
Chain link fence,
Chains of addiction,
Chain smokers,
Daisy chain,
Chain of events,
Chain saw massacre,
Chain lightning,
Chain reaction.
Unchain my heart
Unchained melody,
Chains of love,
Chain of fools.
Gold chain,
Silver chain,
Iron chains.
Chains,
Unchained!
Butt Out
When I'm trying to enjoy My cigarette, the last thing I want to hear from anybody is that I'm ruining My health and I'm going to die.Yes,I am going to die. I appreciate your concern, but I won't be able to smoke after I die. Will you bring Me some cigarettes when I'm in the hospital? Will you pay for My funeral? Will you launch an international anti-smoking campaign in My name after I've gasped My last breath? All the good stuff is illegal. May I enjoy My cigarette please?
When I was eleven years old, I started smoking. I wanted to be cool and sexy. I wanted to look more grown up. Smoking will certainly make you look older; which is something you won't want when you are older. I was exposed to cigarette commercials throughout My entire childhood. Good looking, healthy young models with beautiful white teeth, who had never smoked a cigarette, and boating by a waterfall ,were depicted on billboards everywhere ... What a life! All I had to do was smoke!
Lucy and Ricky smoked, Fred and Barney smoked, My parents smoked, and all the pretty girls at school smoked; Humphrey Bogart smoked. Smoking was cool!
Smoking made My life exciting. Stealing My mother's cigarettes was mysterious and fun. My mother told Me that I could start smoking when I could buy My own. Being sneaky was fun; smoking in the boy’s room! Cigarettes looked cool when I played the guitar, when I had My arm around a cool smoking girl, or when I was just hanging out with the guys and being cool.
Cigarettes were real cheap when I started smoking. They became expensive when I had to support My habit.
Who says that smokers have no will power? When a smoker wants a cigarette, a smoker will get a cigarette. I once walked fifteen miles down a mountain to buy a pack of cigarettes. How is that for will power? I was lucky to get a ride back up the mountain. I wonder how far a non- smoker would walk to get a shot of wheatgrass.
Non-smokers are so annoying. They never have a cigarette when you've just run out and really need one, and they never have a light. "Hey buddy, you got a light?" "I don't smoke" "I didn't ask you that! What if the lights went out and you had to light a candle? Well, you won't get a light from Me!"
These days it is not cool to smoke. I once had an aunt who spent her entire life trying to quit smoking. She tried many different methods and nothing worked. Every time she tried, she would over-eat and become grumpy. She felt guilty about her cigarettes. When she died at the age of ninety-three, she was a slim and happy lady. I continue her noble work, and trying to quit makes My life exciting now. I quit everyday. Thank you RJ Reynolds, Philip Morris, Lucy, Ricky, Barney and Fred...and Bogie.
When I was eleven years old, I started smoking. I wanted to be cool and sexy. I wanted to look more grown up. Smoking will certainly make you look older; which is something you won't want when you are older. I was exposed to cigarette commercials throughout My entire childhood. Good looking, healthy young models with beautiful white teeth, who had never smoked a cigarette, and boating by a waterfall ,were depicted on billboards everywhere ... What a life! All I had to do was smoke!
Lucy and Ricky smoked, Fred and Barney smoked, My parents smoked, and all the pretty girls at school smoked; Humphrey Bogart smoked. Smoking was cool!
Smoking made My life exciting. Stealing My mother's cigarettes was mysterious and fun. My mother told Me that I could start smoking when I could buy My own. Being sneaky was fun; smoking in the boy’s room! Cigarettes looked cool when I played the guitar, when I had My arm around a cool smoking girl, or when I was just hanging out with the guys and being cool.
Cigarettes were real cheap when I started smoking. They became expensive when I had to support My habit.
Who says that smokers have no will power? When a smoker wants a cigarette, a smoker will get a cigarette. I once walked fifteen miles down a mountain to buy a pack of cigarettes. How is that for will power? I was lucky to get a ride back up the mountain. I wonder how far a non- smoker would walk to get a shot of wheatgrass.
Non-smokers are so annoying. They never have a cigarette when you've just run out and really need one, and they never have a light. "Hey buddy, you got a light?" "I don't smoke" "I didn't ask you that! What if the lights went out and you had to light a candle? Well, you won't get a light from Me!"
These days it is not cool to smoke. I once had an aunt who spent her entire life trying to quit smoking. She tried many different methods and nothing worked. Every time she tried, she would over-eat and become grumpy. She felt guilty about her cigarettes. When she died at the age of ninety-three, she was a slim and happy lady. I continue her noble work, and trying to quit makes My life exciting now. I quit everyday. Thank you RJ Reynolds, Philip Morris, Lucy, Ricky, Barney and Fred...and Bogie.
If you don't behave yourself,the lawyer will punish you
“God is going to punish you!” How many of us have heard these words when we were children? Engaging in mortal or venial sin, violating any of the Ten Commandments, neglecting our chores, and talking back to our parents were surefire ways to enrage an intolerant god who would punish us by causing us to fall down and receive little boo boos on our knees or fingers. All we have to do is say our prayers before bedtime, mommy kisses our boo boo, and we are forgiven. How good we had it as children.
We learn to accept the consequences for our actions when we become teenagers. This is when our hormones begin to awaken and we begin looking for opportunities to sneak the occasional feel. We get a little braver and are more willing to take the risks associated with some light shoplifting, or smoking in the restroom at school. We may get chastised, arrested, sent to juvenile court, to counselors, priests, the dean, or be grounded by our parents for a week or two. We can get away with quite a bit without too harsh of a punishment.
Once we become adults, get married and have careers, our punishments become more severe and we can’t get away with anything. We begin to think differently about consequences and the terminology changes. God becomes Karma, boo boos become penalties, and forgetting to mow the lawn or improperly disposing of our garbage can result in fines from the Public Works Department. Insolence toward our superiors results in termination from our jobs, and simple flirting can bring sexual harassment charges against us. Theft, no matter how petty, can land us in jail with career criminals, and smoking anything jeopardizes our health, our careers, and our love lives. Little asides become gross insults, money misspent results in accusations of grave financial irresponsibility, or worse, embezzlement; all the prayers in the world will not save us from the lawyers. When we divorce our spouses, we fear the lawyers. When we become old and ill, we place our faith in the doctors. The lawyers and the doctors have replaced God.
When we are on our deathbeds, God comes back into the picture. Our parents are probably long deceased by now. So are the counselor, the dean, the cop, the spouse, and the boss. We don’t care about the Public Works Department anymore, and flirting stopped when erectile dysfunction set in.Yep! It is just you, the doctor, the priest, God and…the lawyer.
We learn to accept the consequences for our actions when we become teenagers. This is when our hormones begin to awaken and we begin looking for opportunities to sneak the occasional feel. We get a little braver and are more willing to take the risks associated with some light shoplifting, or smoking in the restroom at school. We may get chastised, arrested, sent to juvenile court, to counselors, priests, the dean, or be grounded by our parents for a week or two. We can get away with quite a bit without too harsh of a punishment.
Once we become adults, get married and have careers, our punishments become more severe and we can’t get away with anything. We begin to think differently about consequences and the terminology changes. God becomes Karma, boo boos become penalties, and forgetting to mow the lawn or improperly disposing of our garbage can result in fines from the Public Works Department. Insolence toward our superiors results in termination from our jobs, and simple flirting can bring sexual harassment charges against us. Theft, no matter how petty, can land us in jail with career criminals, and smoking anything jeopardizes our health, our careers, and our love lives. Little asides become gross insults, money misspent results in accusations of grave financial irresponsibility, or worse, embezzlement; all the prayers in the world will not save us from the lawyers. When we divorce our spouses, we fear the lawyers. When we become old and ill, we place our faith in the doctors. The lawyers and the doctors have replaced God.
When we are on our deathbeds, God comes back into the picture. Our parents are probably long deceased by now. So are the counselor, the dean, the cop, the spouse, and the boss. We don’t care about the Public Works Department anymore, and flirting stopped when erectile dysfunction set in.Yep! It is just you, the doctor, the priest, God and…the lawyer.
Man as God
Science, religion, and the death of Death
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the Earth shall awake;
some to everlasting life and some to shame and everlasting contempt.
Daniel 12:2
Galvanize; To stimulate to muscular action by electricity-To rouse to action, startle, excite... Webster's Dictionary
God may have served a purpose when people were less informed or superstitious. The Christian doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, and the Hindu and Buddhist belief in reincarnation have provided hope to the faithful that life does not end with physical death. However, in recent years, scientists have begun to unlock the ages old mysteries of the creation of life, and have sought the postponement or elimination of death. Life expectancy rates have doubled and some people are living healthy lives well into their eighties and nineties. Once fatal diseases are now treated or cured with simple over the counter medications or a fifteen minute visit to the doctor's office. Organ transplantation, limb and joint replacement, blood transfusions, and cosmetic procedures have become commonplace. Defibrillators are used routinely to reactivate hearts that have stopped beating. Will Bionics, Robotics, Transplantation, and Cryogenics one day render natural death obsolete?
It is possible that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's masterpiece Frankenstein; The Modern Prometheus was the progenitor in man's quest for immortality. In this story, Victor Frankenstein, despondent over the death of his mother, who has fallen victim to scarlet fever, vows to put an end to death. Victor begins to experiment with electricity and it's potential to reanimate dead tissue; using corpses, which he exhumes from a local graveyard. In time, Frankenstein succeeds in fashioning a man; utilizing harnessed electricity to stimulate and reanimate dead tissue. It moves. “It’s Alive!” he cries. But is it? One question remains unanswered for this reader at this time. This creature is comprised of the cells of many men! If a man's memory is stored in his cells, then could this creature be one man with many souls? It is generally assumed that the name of 'Victor' for Shelley's ill fated character comes from the poem 'Paradise Lost' by John Milton. In this poem, Milton frequently refers to God as 'the Victor', and Shelley portrays Victor as a man playing God by attempting to create life. Victor was also once a pen name of Percy Shelley's. The story parallels events not only in the lives of the Shelley’s, but also in the medical, scientific and intellectual communities of their time. Three decades earlier in the 1790's, Italian physician Luigi Galvani's experiments in the reanimation of dead tissue in frogs using controlled electric current opened a gateway of hope into humankind's quest for eternal physical life.
Galvani's work was continued by his nephew Giovanni Aldini who in 1803 performed experiments in public upon the severed heads of condemned criminals. On November 4, 1818, Dr.Ure and Professor Jeffray of Glasgow University performed an experiment at the Glasgow University Anatomy Theatre using electrical charges on the body of convicted murderer Matthew Clydesdale who had been sentenced to hanging and anatomization for killing a seventy year old man while in a drunken rage. The muscles of Clydesdale's body twitched in response to the electric current. The bodies of executed criminals were frequently used for medical and scientific research.
During the reign of Adolph Hitler in 1940's Germany, Nazi doctors performed gruesome experiments on Jewish prisoners for the advancement of biological science. These prisoners were regarded as sub-human and were used in much the same way as rats and other species in the animal kingdom are treated in modern day research; often without the use of anaesthetics.In the 1970's,a test tube baby was created by inserting the DNA of two people into an emptied egg. Recently, a sheep was cloned and named Dolly. The subject of stem cell research in the use of re-creating organs and limbs is undergoing much debate by politicians and members of the clergy. Is all of this ethical? Does it benefit mankind as a whole or just those who are bent on creating a master race? Are we dangerously close to displacing and replacing God?
Reanimation of the dead and the postponement of death are no longer confined to the dark laboratories of mad scientists. Today it is possible for someone like Dr.Galvani or Dr. Frankenstein to receive government funding for research on dead tissue for the advancement of medicine. Cloning a beloved pet, a stillborn child, Grandma and Grandpa, or fallen troops are not only possible, but achievable within our lifetimes, or those of our children. Life, as nature intended it, is designed to accommodate death. Death makes way for new life. Humankind may eventually suffer the consequences for treading on creative territory that was once exclusively God's or nature's as our ecology and resources are continuously ravaged and exhausted by an over-populated planet. Although it appears to be a wonderful endeavor, tampering with the natural cycle of existence and annihilation may be asking for total annihilation.
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the Earth shall awake;
some to everlasting life and some to shame and everlasting contempt.
Daniel 12:2
Galvanize; To stimulate to muscular action by electricity-To rouse to action, startle, excite... Webster's Dictionary
God may have served a purpose when people were less informed or superstitious. The Christian doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, and the Hindu and Buddhist belief in reincarnation have provided hope to the faithful that life does not end with physical death. However, in recent years, scientists have begun to unlock the ages old mysteries of the creation of life, and have sought the postponement or elimination of death. Life expectancy rates have doubled and some people are living healthy lives well into their eighties and nineties. Once fatal diseases are now treated or cured with simple over the counter medications or a fifteen minute visit to the doctor's office. Organ transplantation, limb and joint replacement, blood transfusions, and cosmetic procedures have become commonplace. Defibrillators are used routinely to reactivate hearts that have stopped beating. Will Bionics, Robotics, Transplantation, and Cryogenics one day render natural death obsolete?
It is possible that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's masterpiece Frankenstein; The Modern Prometheus was the progenitor in man's quest for immortality. In this story, Victor Frankenstein, despondent over the death of his mother, who has fallen victim to scarlet fever, vows to put an end to death. Victor begins to experiment with electricity and it's potential to reanimate dead tissue; using corpses, which he exhumes from a local graveyard. In time, Frankenstein succeeds in fashioning a man; utilizing harnessed electricity to stimulate and reanimate dead tissue. It moves. “It’s Alive!” he cries. But is it? One question remains unanswered for this reader at this time. This creature is comprised of the cells of many men! If a man's memory is stored in his cells, then could this creature be one man with many souls? It is generally assumed that the name of 'Victor' for Shelley's ill fated character comes from the poem 'Paradise Lost' by John Milton. In this poem, Milton frequently refers to God as 'the Victor', and Shelley portrays Victor as a man playing God by attempting to create life. Victor was also once a pen name of Percy Shelley's. The story parallels events not only in the lives of the Shelley’s, but also in the medical, scientific and intellectual communities of their time. Three decades earlier in the 1790's, Italian physician Luigi Galvani's experiments in the reanimation of dead tissue in frogs using controlled electric current opened a gateway of hope into humankind's quest for eternal physical life.
Galvani's work was continued by his nephew Giovanni Aldini who in 1803 performed experiments in public upon the severed heads of condemned criminals. On November 4, 1818, Dr.Ure and Professor Jeffray of Glasgow University performed an experiment at the Glasgow University Anatomy Theatre using electrical charges on the body of convicted murderer Matthew Clydesdale who had been sentenced to hanging and anatomization for killing a seventy year old man while in a drunken rage. The muscles of Clydesdale's body twitched in response to the electric current. The bodies of executed criminals were frequently used for medical and scientific research.
During the reign of Adolph Hitler in 1940's Germany, Nazi doctors performed gruesome experiments on Jewish prisoners for the advancement of biological science. These prisoners were regarded as sub-human and were used in much the same way as rats and other species in the animal kingdom are treated in modern day research; often without the use of anaesthetics.In the 1970's,a test tube baby was created by inserting the DNA of two people into an emptied egg. Recently, a sheep was cloned and named Dolly. The subject of stem cell research in the use of re-creating organs and limbs is undergoing much debate by politicians and members of the clergy. Is all of this ethical? Does it benefit mankind as a whole or just those who are bent on creating a master race? Are we dangerously close to displacing and replacing God?
Reanimation of the dead and the postponement of death are no longer confined to the dark laboratories of mad scientists. Today it is possible for someone like Dr.Galvani or Dr. Frankenstein to receive government funding for research on dead tissue for the advancement of medicine. Cloning a beloved pet, a stillborn child, Grandma and Grandpa, or fallen troops are not only possible, but achievable within our lifetimes, or those of our children. Life, as nature intended it, is designed to accommodate death. Death makes way for new life. Humankind may eventually suffer the consequences for treading on creative territory that was once exclusively God's or nature's as our ecology and resources are continuously ravaged and exhausted by an over-populated planet. Although it appears to be a wonderful endeavor, tampering with the natural cycle of existence and annihilation may be asking for total annihilation.
Televangelist Superstar
I watch the Televangelist on Sunday morning. If I want to contribute a Love Gift to his ministry, I can call a toll free number. Major credit cards, checks, and money orders are accepted. He calls me 'Friend' and I can even put my hand on the screen for a healing and forgiveness from Jesus Himself! He works for Jesus and in return, Jesus works through him. He also gets a great salary. Great job!
He has the most beautiful teeth I've ever seen on any mortal. If I were a dentist, I could only pray that he would come to me regularly for a cleaning, a filling, or a denture alignment. I would have a good salary too! We could even barter. I could get a blessing for a cleaning, a healing for a filling, and eternal life in exchange for a lifetime of soul winning smiles. I wonder who his tailor is. I'll bet next month's tithe that he doesn't own a suit like that. Maybe he can barter his services for some stuff from Jesus, a button for a blessing; I'd like to have that job.
HEEEEAAAALLLLLl!!!! Satan! Come out! He slaps the woman with the not so great teeth on the forehead; she falls back only to be caught by his impeccably dressed Deacons (another nice job) and is laid gently on the floor to sleep off her miracle. Did she receive the Holy Spirit, or did he knock her out? She wakes up refreshed. She's been cured of her insomnia, but she could still use a dentist.
Thanking Jesus, she jumps up and down like a game show contestant who has just won a cruise to the Virgin Islands. I wonder how much she got paid; enough to see the dentist for a cleaning?
Cool! I'm going bald. Maybe if I put my hand on the screen and call in my bank card number, my aging follicles will re-generate and I'll wake up tomorrow morning just in time for work sporting an Afro! I called the toll free number to see if I could get a prayer. Someone answered immediately. "Jesus Loves You!" It’s nice to know that some Palestinian who died 2,000 years ago, rose from the dead, and who is still somewhere in my heart, loves me.
I was given another number to call. The prayer line had an area code in another state and I'd have to pay for the call. That’s okay, it’s cheaper than Monoxodil. After confessing that I was a sinner whose righteousness was not worth a pile of filthy rags, and after accepting that great big God into my little unworthy heart, I received my prayer. I could just begin to feel my bald spot tingling when I was asked if I would like to become a member of the Trinity Prayer Family. "What is that?" I asked.
"The Bible says that when two or more are present in The Lord's name, He is present and prayers are answered. The Trinity Prayer Family is a worldwide congregation of millions of the faithful who pray all day for the Lord to answer your prayers.
You'll receive a quarterly newsletter that contains testimonials from the saved who have received their miracle in the last ninety days, Praise the Lord, a T-shirt,the Reverend's new book, and a TGI Friday's gift certificate for two. You will also receive a 10% discount on airfare in the Reverend's private plane and accommodations in The Prayer Family Hotel during our annual Family Field Trip to the Holy Land. If you will allow us to debit $100.00 a month from your checking account, you can be a part of the God loving family of our Heavenly Father. You will also receive a gift certificate that you can use to buy Holy Water from the Jordan River, Prayer Cloths, and other souvenirs from the hotel's gift shop."
Man! What a deal! I told the girl on the phone that I would talk it over with my wife since she is the one who makes the decisions about how large our family should be, and how much we spend on airfare and hotels. I thanked her and Jesus and went to the bathroom to shave my head.
He has the most beautiful teeth I've ever seen on any mortal. If I were a dentist, I could only pray that he would come to me regularly for a cleaning, a filling, or a denture alignment. I would have a good salary too! We could even barter. I could get a blessing for a cleaning, a healing for a filling, and eternal life in exchange for a lifetime of soul winning smiles. I wonder who his tailor is. I'll bet next month's tithe that he doesn't own a suit like that. Maybe he can barter his services for some stuff from Jesus, a button for a blessing; I'd like to have that job.
HEEEEAAAALLLLLl!!!! Satan! Come out! He slaps the woman with the not so great teeth on the forehead; she falls back only to be caught by his impeccably dressed Deacons (another nice job) and is laid gently on the floor to sleep off her miracle. Did she receive the Holy Spirit, or did he knock her out? She wakes up refreshed. She's been cured of her insomnia, but she could still use a dentist.
Thanking Jesus, she jumps up and down like a game show contestant who has just won a cruise to the Virgin Islands. I wonder how much she got paid; enough to see the dentist for a cleaning?
Cool! I'm going bald. Maybe if I put my hand on the screen and call in my bank card number, my aging follicles will re-generate and I'll wake up tomorrow morning just in time for work sporting an Afro! I called the toll free number to see if I could get a prayer. Someone answered immediately. "Jesus Loves You!" It’s nice to know that some Palestinian who died 2,000 years ago, rose from the dead, and who is still somewhere in my heart, loves me.
I was given another number to call. The prayer line had an area code in another state and I'd have to pay for the call. That’s okay, it’s cheaper than Monoxodil. After confessing that I was a sinner whose righteousness was not worth a pile of filthy rags, and after accepting that great big God into my little unworthy heart, I received my prayer. I could just begin to feel my bald spot tingling when I was asked if I would like to become a member of the Trinity Prayer Family. "What is that?" I asked.
"The Bible says that when two or more are present in The Lord's name, He is present and prayers are answered. The Trinity Prayer Family is a worldwide congregation of millions of the faithful who pray all day for the Lord to answer your prayers.
You'll receive a quarterly newsletter that contains testimonials from the saved who have received their miracle in the last ninety days, Praise the Lord, a T-shirt,the Reverend's new book, and a TGI Friday's gift certificate for two. You will also receive a 10% discount on airfare in the Reverend's private plane and accommodations in The Prayer Family Hotel during our annual Family Field Trip to the Holy Land. If you will allow us to debit $100.00 a month from your checking account, you can be a part of the God loving family of our Heavenly Father. You will also receive a gift certificate that you can use to buy Holy Water from the Jordan River, Prayer Cloths, and other souvenirs from the hotel's gift shop."
Man! What a deal! I told the girl on the phone that I would talk it over with my wife since she is the one who makes the decisions about how large our family should be, and how much we spend on airfare and hotels. I thanked her and Jesus and went to the bathroom to shave my head.
Proof of God
Before science, anything that could not be explained was considered to be the will of God.
(Dr. Bonnie Ronson, HCC, 2007)
Knowledge comes with death’s release
(David Bowie 1972)
God is a concept by which we measure our pain.
(John Lennon 1970)
All things must pass.
(George Harrison 1970)
With God all things are possible
(Jesus...Not so long ago)
I am a jealous God
(God ...Long ago)
Jehova,Allah,Bramha,The Gods and Goddesses of legends and mythology,Zeus,Apollo,Mars,Mercury,Poseidon,Radha,Sita,Kali,Venus,
Aphrodite, countless other names, many unpronounceable, some forbidden to utter; Godmen or Avatars like Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and their saints and disciples;
Everyone has their belief system. A belief system is just that. Anyone can believe anything, but that does not make it true. Many are willing to die as martyrs for their truth. Is it possible that there is only one truth? What is truth? Maybe we learn the truth when we die. Here is some truth. We will all die. Everything will die.
Where do we go when we die, or do we go anywhere at all? Some say we go to Heaven or Nirvana or back to Godhead. There are other places; Purgatory, Hell. There are those who are willing to blow themselves up to go hang out in Paradise with a bunch of Vestal Virgins for eternity. Not Me! I’m almost willing to blow Myself up if I was certain that I would be hanging out with nymphomaniacs forever!
Some believe in life after death. What is life? What is death? One is a part of the other. Nothing comes after anything. We wake up, we do our thing, and we go back to sleep. We are born, we do our thing, we die, and we move on to something else. Even if we become bug food, or fertilizer, we continue to serve some purpose.
How unfortunate it would be for Me to have lived my life as a Christian only to die, come face to face with Krishna, Buddha, or the Devil and find out that I had it all wrong the whole time. I cover all the bases and give each one their due; just in case.
There are many references in all of the world's holy books, to extraterrestrial activity here on Earth. The Vedic Scriptures, Native North and South American lore and legend, Greek and Roman mythology, and the Holy Bible are rife with evidence that God may not be a single entity, but a race or races of extraterrestrial beings that colonized Planet Earth. Is it possible that we are just clones of an extraterrestrial race? An experiment? Is the Earth a penal colony for rogue ‘Angels’, and are we their descendants? Were Adam and Eve explorers, clones, or prisoners? Cave drawings and temple carvings from nearly every ancient civilization depict helmeted beings and flying machines.
How is it that we can live on the most habitable planet in our solar system for carbon based life forms and wage war and disrespect our environment? Maybe we are here to learn from our mistakes until we get it right, and then we can go back home.
I don’t believe for one minute that a loving and merciful god would damn us for eternity if we don’t believe in just one of his messengers. Many messengers have come to teach us how to love one another; some of us listen and some of us do not. Some start religions which become huge corporations or small cults. Wars are fought, saints are martyred, and scientists explain or discredit what were once considered miracles.
One group will try to convince another that their belief system is the one and only truth. Yes, there is only one truth. No one knows what it is. Maybe when we die, we will find out.
Is god male or female? Both? None of the above? Perhaps it depends on what we want the idea of god to accomplish. Subjugation of women? Male god. Hindu men may use Radha or Sita to exemplify the ideal wife. In Judeo-Christian lore, Eve bears the blame for man’s fall from grace.
In all fairness, in order to prove the existence of god, we must prove that it doesn't exist. I refer to god as ‘it’, because god is still a theory and theories have no gender.
(Dr. Bonnie Ronson, HCC, 2007)
Knowledge comes with death’s release
(David Bowie 1972)
God is a concept by which we measure our pain.
(John Lennon 1970)
All things must pass.
(George Harrison 1970)
With God all things are possible
(Jesus...Not so long ago)
I am a jealous God
(God ...Long ago)
Jehova,Allah,Bramha,The Gods and Goddesses of legends and mythology,Zeus,Apollo,Mars,Mercury,Poseidon,Radha,Sita,Kali,Venus,
Aphrodite, countless other names, many unpronounceable, some forbidden to utter; Godmen or Avatars like Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and their saints and disciples;
Everyone has their belief system. A belief system is just that. Anyone can believe anything, but that does not make it true. Many are willing to die as martyrs for their truth. Is it possible that there is only one truth? What is truth? Maybe we learn the truth when we die. Here is some truth. We will all die. Everything will die.
Where do we go when we die, or do we go anywhere at all? Some say we go to Heaven or Nirvana or back to Godhead. There are other places; Purgatory, Hell. There are those who are willing to blow themselves up to go hang out in Paradise with a bunch of Vestal Virgins for eternity. Not Me! I’m almost willing to blow Myself up if I was certain that I would be hanging out with nymphomaniacs forever!
Some believe in life after death. What is life? What is death? One is a part of the other. Nothing comes after anything. We wake up, we do our thing, and we go back to sleep. We are born, we do our thing, we die, and we move on to something else. Even if we become bug food, or fertilizer, we continue to serve some purpose.
How unfortunate it would be for Me to have lived my life as a Christian only to die, come face to face with Krishna, Buddha, or the Devil and find out that I had it all wrong the whole time. I cover all the bases and give each one their due; just in case.
There are many references in all of the world's holy books, to extraterrestrial activity here on Earth. The Vedic Scriptures, Native North and South American lore and legend, Greek and Roman mythology, and the Holy Bible are rife with evidence that God may not be a single entity, but a race or races of extraterrestrial beings that colonized Planet Earth. Is it possible that we are just clones of an extraterrestrial race? An experiment? Is the Earth a penal colony for rogue ‘Angels’, and are we their descendants? Were Adam and Eve explorers, clones, or prisoners? Cave drawings and temple carvings from nearly every ancient civilization depict helmeted beings and flying machines.
How is it that we can live on the most habitable planet in our solar system for carbon based life forms and wage war and disrespect our environment? Maybe we are here to learn from our mistakes until we get it right, and then we can go back home.
I don’t believe for one minute that a loving and merciful god would damn us for eternity if we don’t believe in just one of his messengers. Many messengers have come to teach us how to love one another; some of us listen and some of us do not. Some start religions which become huge corporations or small cults. Wars are fought, saints are martyred, and scientists explain or discredit what were once considered miracles.
One group will try to convince another that their belief system is the one and only truth. Yes, there is only one truth. No one knows what it is. Maybe when we die, we will find out.
Is god male or female? Both? None of the above? Perhaps it depends on what we want the idea of god to accomplish. Subjugation of women? Male god. Hindu men may use Radha or Sita to exemplify the ideal wife. In Judeo-Christian lore, Eve bears the blame for man’s fall from grace.
In all fairness, in order to prove the existence of god, we must prove that it doesn't exist. I refer to god as ‘it’, because god is still a theory and theories have no gender.
Rated X+Y
I live an uncomplicated life. It costs Me very little to keep it that way. Does anyone ever say, “I don’t think I’ll go on this hot date tonight because I’d rather stay at home and do math?”
John drove from Florida to New York in twenty-four hours stopping twice at a rest stop for a one hour nap. Paul made the same trip in twenty-eight hours stopping once for a two hour nap. Combined, the nap time totaled four hours and the driving time totaled fifty-two hours. If John and Paul had shared the driving, how many inches of snow could Connecticut expect next winter?... Do people really talk about this stuff?
When I was a child, I understood that 2 plus 2 is 4, but why isn’t 2 and 2 22?. One 2 next to another 2 certainly looks like a 22. I was able to count to ten. I had no problem with twenty and up, but I had a real hard time with everything between ten and twenty. My solution? Eleventy-one, eleventy-two, eleventy-three, all the way to eleventy-nine. I was fine from twenty on. Telling time was another thing altogether. Twelve fifteen was three after twelve. A quarter to one was nine before one or nine after twelve depending on who asked.
This semester I am taking pre-algebra. I wasn’t ready for this one. I understand that 3 times 4 equals 12, but noooo…it’s not that simple with algebra. Algebra exists for the sole purpose of complicating My life. Now there’s a whole process that one must go through to prove that 3 times 4 equals 12. Get a load of this: 3 times two times two equals twelve or 3 times 2 equals 6 and 6 times 2 equals 12 or 3 times 2 squared equals 12. My future, which by the law of averages is not too much longer, depends on My understanding this process. My happiness and sense of self-worth is at stake if I do not learn how to complicate simple problems. My life can be ruined. I may never be able to write another article, get a good job, or find the woman of My dreams if I can’t explain 3 times 4 equals twelve.
I‘m not sure where this headache came from. Maybe I’m thinking too much about the $150.00 I paid for a book that promised to further uncomplicate My already uncomplicated life by explaining how to uncomplicate uncomplicated problems by making them more complicated. Does anybody have an aspirin?
John drove from Florida to New York in twenty-four hours stopping twice at a rest stop for a one hour nap. Paul made the same trip in twenty-eight hours stopping once for a two hour nap. Combined, the nap time totaled four hours and the driving time totaled fifty-two hours. If John and Paul had shared the driving, how many inches of snow could Connecticut expect next winter?... Do people really talk about this stuff?
When I was a child, I understood that 2 plus 2 is 4, but why isn’t 2 and 2 22?. One 2 next to another 2 certainly looks like a 22. I was able to count to ten. I had no problem with twenty and up, but I had a real hard time with everything between ten and twenty. My solution? Eleventy-one, eleventy-two, eleventy-three, all the way to eleventy-nine. I was fine from twenty on. Telling time was another thing altogether. Twelve fifteen was three after twelve. A quarter to one was nine before one or nine after twelve depending on who asked.
This semester I am taking pre-algebra. I wasn’t ready for this one. I understand that 3 times 4 equals 12, but noooo…it’s not that simple with algebra. Algebra exists for the sole purpose of complicating My life. Now there’s a whole process that one must go through to prove that 3 times 4 equals 12. Get a load of this: 3 times two times two equals twelve or 3 times 2 equals 6 and 6 times 2 equals 12 or 3 times 2 squared equals 12. My future, which by the law of averages is not too much longer, depends on My understanding this process. My happiness and sense of self-worth is at stake if I do not learn how to complicate simple problems. My life can be ruined. I may never be able to write another article, get a good job, or find the woman of My dreams if I can’t explain 3 times 4 equals twelve.
I‘m not sure where this headache came from. Maybe I’m thinking too much about the $150.00 I paid for a book that promised to further uncomplicate My already uncomplicated life by explaining how to uncomplicate uncomplicated problems by making them more complicated. Does anybody have an aspirin?
The Masque of the Red Death;An essay by MASTER NIGHT
Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel...Samuel Johnson
Symbolism in Gothic and Biblical Literature and the use of The Psychology of Fear against the citizens of Post 911 America.
Edgar Allen Poe's character Prince Prospero in The Masque of The Red Death offers an escape from the plague,which would eventually diminish by one third,the population of Europe,by barricading himself and one thousand guests into his gated home.All is well with dancing and merriment as the utilization of the Psychology of Fear by Prince Prospero on his unsuspecting guests holds them captive in their own web of denial."Do not fret my friends!It will not harm you as long as you are here!"Ah, but what self-deception lies in his good intentions.Death will visit everyone once;and as the revelry commences,their well intentioned 'friend' ultimately fails to protect them from the inevitable.All of the signs are there,yet they do not see them for they are drunk with the false sense of security that has been instilled in them by Prince Prospero.
Terrorism in the world today possibly posseses the the same destructive power as The Bubonic Plague in Prince Prospero's time;even greater if the use of weapons of mass destruction wer to be employed by either side in the War on Terror.Our Homeland Security Department,our President,and our military can be likened, for example,to Prince Prospero in the sense; that they offer us the false blanket of security with closed borders,surveillance of citizens,and our willingness to sacrifice certain civil rights and freedoms in an attempt to elude our final visitor.
Let us ,for the sake of argument,examine the state of Post 911 America and the wold as the scenario of Poe's story.The privileged few are invited to attend the ball are of the Aristocracy.The wealthy class;those who have influence and the wealth to lead a decimated society to reconstruction and renewed prosperity.We'll seal our borders;allow only those who can obtain clearance to attend the party of the faithful who adhere to the rules administered by our host,the President,and his cohorts in the War Department and Homeland Security who repeatedly attempt to reassure us that the War on Terror is outside of our gates and can not possibly enter the Great American Masque Ball and impose death our citizens.So too do the attendees of The Masque of The Red Death place their security on faith based on the promises of Prince Prospero.
It is believed by some that certain schools of thought in Islamic radicalism envision an Apocalyptic scenario where God's armies would defeat the infidels and establish an Islamic religious world order.If in theory the ratio of Muslim vs non-Muslim were 2 to 1,Islamic radicalism would have to eradicate one third of the world's population to achieve this end.Those who survive could be subjected to slavery or genocide.
The Masque of The Red Death and The Book of the Revelations of St. John the Divine are both rich in symbolism especially in the use of color to symbolize timelines and degrees of fear as the reader anticipates the climactic conclusion of both visions of partial annihilation;those who are saved, and those who are not.Whether one has The Seal of God on his forehead,or if we are living behind sealed borders protected by our government,or within the confines of Prince Prospero's gates,our visitor will arrive.
The Red Horse in Saint John's apocalyptic vision,as a symbol of war and man's inhumanity towards man,in comparison to this particular work of Poe's,serves as an example of a plague,if you will;as Terrorism is the current plague threatening the safety of the world's inhabitants.The potential use of nuclear,chemical,and biological weapons by either side in the War on Terror threatens to reduce by an estimated one third,the entire population of our planet.The suffering of the victims of The Bubonic Plague can be weighed equally with the suffering of the victims of an attack by terrorists as pestilence and conflict between the survivors would abound.It will affect those who are sheltered in their bunkers and safe havens who will eventually fall victim to a damged environment,scarcity of medical care,and crime and acts of barbarism not only by those who would seek power,but also by those merely seeking to survive.
In Poe's story,the room with the scarlet curtains is the room that immediately precedes the final room which houses the ebony clock.It is in this room that the mysterious masked figure enters the scene.The Scarlet Curtains,the Red Horse of the Revelation,and The Red Death (actually,The Black Death is how The Bubonic Plague is historically referred),symbolizes the imminent reality of the end of civilization as we've come to know it,or the end of human life itself.It is in this room that Death manifests itself as the cataclysmic participant in this race with destiny and proceeds to claim,what is rightfully as regulated by the laws of nature,it's due.There is no escape!The Ebony Clock will sound it's chimes!The revelers once secure in the belief that iron gates and doctrines will protect them,will become aware,mouths agape,that the final chime has been struck.Thus,the promises of Prince Prospero and our 'leadership' becomes null and void.
Edgar Allen Poe's "The Masque of The Red Death"issues forth a lesson.Our status in society and all of our fortifications will not serve to spare us the horrors of pestilence,famine,and war.It will come on cosmic horses,in the guise of false saviours,or in signs and wonders.There will be proclamations of safety and security.We can raise our daggers or absorb ourselves into self indulgent oblivion and denial,but our visitor will penetrate the gates,dance through the corridors,and present himself in the final room which houses the Ebony Clock;The clock that can not be stopped or rewound.
Frankenstein; An essay by Master Night
No one loves the man whom he fears.....Aristotle
Whom men fear they hate, and whom they hate, they wish dead.....Quintus Ennius
Many of those who sleep in the dust of the Earth shall awake. Some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.....Daniel 12:2
Galvanize; To stimulate to muscular action by electricity-To rouse to action;startle;excite...Webster's Dictionary
Imagination has always had the powers of resurrection that no science can match...Ingrid Bengis
The year 1818 was a very good year for the dead. Three decades earlier in the 1790's,Italian physician Luigi Galvani's experiments in the reanimation of dead tissue in frogs through the use of controlled electric current sparked interest in the possibility of Humankind's conquest of death, and therefore, hope for eternal physical life.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's masterpiece 'Frankenstein (pronounced Fronkensteen);The Modern Prometheus, was conceived during a visit with her lover, the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1814 to their friend Lord Byron (another poet of the Romantic era) at the Villa Diodati near Lake Geneva, Switzerland in June,1816.It was the 'Year Without A Summer' due to the eruption of Tambora in 1815 and poor weather forced Lord Byron and his guests to remain homebound where they would pass the time reading the book 'Fantasmagoria';a collection of German ghost stories.
One evening Lord Byron challenged each of his guests to write a ghost story. It is believed that Opium was the recreational drug in literary circles at that time and that a drug induced 'waking dream' may have inspired Mary to create what would become Frankenstein.
Frankenstein was completed on May 14, 1817 and published on January 1, 1818. A second edition was published in two volumes on August 11,1823. A heavily revised edition with a new introduction by the author appeared on October 31,1831. This is the version most widely read today although the 1818 edition is still published and it is still preferred by some scholars, as it contains the original spirit of this work.
Although the novel technically begins with a narration by Captain Walton as he describes his meeting with Victor Frankenstein in the Arctic, the story of Frankenstein and his creature actually begins in 1776 when Victor, despondent over the death of his mother, who had fallen victim to Scarlet Fever, vows to put an end to death.
In 1793 while in Germany at the University of Ingolstadt, Victor begins experimenting with electricity and it's potential to reanimate dead tissue; using corpses, which he exhumes from a local graveyard. Raw materials.In time, Frankenstein succeeds in fashioning a man; utilizing harnessed electricity to stimulate and reanimate this being created from dead tissue. It moves. "It's Alive!" he cries. But is it? This creature is comprised of the cells of many men! If a man's memory is stored in his cells, then could this creature be one man with many souls?
As we become more acquainted with the creature, we learn that he is a kind and compassionate vegetarian who plays the flute, is well read and speaks with great eloquence. He is obviously the culmination of the memories, educations and experiences of the many parts; as well as the ancestries of these parts, of which he is composed.
He is also very lonely.
Rejected by his maker; shunned, scorned and hated by the rest of humanity due solely to the hideousness of his appearance, the creature, upon learning of his origins, begins to foster vengeance in his heart and seeks retribution from Victor for his wretched existence. He demands that Victor provide him with a companion; just as everything else in creation has its counterpart, he needs someone just like him who will be impartial to his appearance, non-judgemental, unaccepted, and content to live out their lives in exile. Victor’s refusal to grant this request prompts the creature to demonstrate to his creator just how serious he is by ripping the heart out of the chest of Victor's beloved new bride, Elizabeth on their wedding night.
Overcome with grief, Victor restores life to his cherished bride, and in his haste, fails to restore her to her original beauty. Victor loves her nonetheless, and is happy to accept her as she is.
Victor’s monster upon seeing the horribly disfigured, reanimated corpse, claims her as his own. The ensuing battle between creator and creation ultimately results in the destruction of this 'corpse bride' and Victor becomes a haunted man for the rest of his days.Vowing to destroy that which haunts him, Victor pursues the creature who leads him to the Arctic Circle where upon their final confrontation, the creature wants to know what he is and why; certainly not to exist merely to survive a life of rejection, hatred and bitter loneliness.
It is quite evident that the name of 'Victor' for Shelley's ill-fated character derives from the poem 'Paradise Lost' by John Milton who was a great influence on her. In this poem, Milton frequently refers to God as 'the Victor' and Shelley portrays Victor as playing God by creating life. Victor was also once a pen name of Percy Shelley's.The story parallels events not only in the lives of the Shelley’s, but also in the medical, scientific, and intellectual communities of their time.
Galvani’s work was continued by his nephew Giovanni Aldini who in 1803 performed experiments in public upon the severed heads of condemned criminals. On November 4, 1818, Dr.Ure and Professor Jeffray of Glasgow University performed an experiment at the Glasgow University Anatomy Theatre on the body of convicted murderer Matthew Clydesdale who had been sentenced to hanging and anatomization for killing a seventy year old man while in a drunken rage. The bodies of executed criminals were frequently used for medical and scientific research. Raw materials.
It has been nearly two hundred years since the first publication of Frankenstein. Science has made great strides in the last fifty years. Life expectancy rates have doubled and some people are living healthy lives well into their eighties and nineties. Once fatal diseases are now treated or cured with simple over the counter medications or a fifteen minute visit to a doctor's office. Organ transplantation, limb and joint replacement, blood transfusions and cosmetic procedures have become commonplace. Defibrillators are used routinely to reactivate hearts that have stopped beating.Bionics, Robotics; and Cryogenics may one day render natural death obsolete.
Reanimation of the dead is no longer confined to the dark laboratories of mad scientists. Today it is possible for someone like Dr.Frankenstein to receive government funding for research on dead or living tissue for the advancement of medicine or military purposes. Cloning a beloved pet, a stillborn child, Grandma and Grandpa, or fallen troops are not only possible, but achievable within our lifetime or that of our children.
Life as nature intended it, is designed to accommodate death. Death makes way for new life. Humankind may eventually suffer the consequences for treading on creative territory that once exclusively God's or Nature's as our ecology and resources are ravaged and exhausted by an over-populated planet. Tampering with the natural cycle of existence and annihilation is to ask for total annihilation.
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