Yesterday’s blog got me thinking about cannibalism. In general it’s a practice to avoid, but there have been times in history when the practice has arisen out of necessity. I’m thinking of the Donner party way back when and various other examples of extreme need. However, the practice in general has intrigued me almost as much as the zombie phenomena.
Many tribal cultures from various continents have practiced cannibalism as a way to steal their enemy’s power. They would eat the flesh of the vanquished foe to gain their strength and power. If you watch old movies, as Romona and I do, you find many examples of the culinary practice. Abbot and Costello for example had a few run ins with the occasional cannibalistic tribe. There is an old movie staring David Carradine and Eli Wallach, along with a few others, where Eli was standing chest deep in a big pot waiting to be boiled in oil. Now, in the movie there are no other people in the scene the cannibalism is implied.
I wonder what a cannibal will be named, possibly George or Fred, whatever the last victim’s nametag stated. Possibly a tribal name of intrigue such as Leg Bone, or Fingers, hmmm the possibilities are endless.
I have an idea to use Cannibals and Zombies in the same movie or book. The cannibals could be hunting the zombies and the zombies are hunting the cannibals. Just think of it.
My daughter Kathe and I were discussing zombies when she described a game to me that is played in the mountains of Montana; it’s called Zombie Tag. I’m greatly intrigued by this game, some folks are designated Zombies and the other’s are the people. The people go around and shoot the zombies with nerf guns before they have their brains eaten, great fun.
I always root for the zombie. After all these poor souls have been transformed into a lifeless brain eating, well zombie. They have lost all serious motor control and any thought processes have been taken up by this sudden addiction for human brains, poor bastards. You’d think there would be a twelve step program or something, but alas no.
As for the people, the stupid ones get caught and have their brains eaten. They are stupid because zombies aren’t the quickest monster on the block and usually to get away from one all you need do is walk away at a relatively faster pace that a zombie can walk, which is about a step quicker than a snails pace.
Zombies are some of my favorite monsters and I always cheer for them. So, go zombie go.
A year or so ago we started receiving a wrong number calling in on our phone. Romona was at first irritated, but later decided to strike up a conversation with the caller. This caller repeatedly dialed our number and finely started talking, it was amusing.
Romona began to know this caller by a first name. They would talk and from my perspective, enjoyed the conversation. We even met a relative of this caller at a venue out of town. That was a tad strange, and I even met Ivan the Mad Russian, a wrestler from old. It was cool.
The calls came in so often that Romona finely called back and asked the caller if she needed any assistance. This is when we found out that the caller was indeed an elderly person who enjoyed the conversations just for the sake of it. I even spoke to the caller on one occasion and found our conversation entertaining. Allot can be learned by listening to our elders.
Romona and the caller struck up a phone call friendship that lasted for a little more than a year. Karmic interventions happen when we least expect them or even understand them, they just happen, lessons are learned.
I bring a newspaper home with me from work as often as I am able. Today Romona was reading the paper and gasped and struck me on the shoulder with a muted, “oh my god.” The friend she had made over the phone had passed into the great beyond and was in the obituaries. There are many ways to end things, many ways to finish. The entertaining wrong number will no longer appear on our line. This was the caller’s way of saying, “Good Bye.”
The 21st is past and we are officially into the summer season. The days of hot dogs and hamburgers, lemon aid and ice cream, of swimming the backstroke on a float while contemplating the clouds as they float by; the days of summer.
The summer time represents a certain kind of freedom for many a school aged person that longs for the warmth of a lost sun. Here in the North Country the sun stays away for a great portion of the year and we suffer. We suffer the long ravages of winter and the pains only a few short hours of sunlight a day and nine months of snow throw upon us.
So, freedom comes for a short time every year for those who wait. And we celebrate. We celebrate the sun by absorbing it’s rays and wholesome goodness, we become tan and speak of things metaphysical and etheric while we drink our beer. We are sun worshipers for a short time every year. We are all the new children of the sun, the surfers of that great wave, freedom from winter.
I’ve been reading the blog of my friend Ray. He writes about the great art of bartering and sharing. I’m usually a silent participant of the bartering economy, but I’ve come to the realization that my lawn has grown into rain forest proportions. I walk carefully into the yard swearing I can hear the occasional monkey and cockatoo. I even find myself stepping lightly hoping large man eating snakes have taken leave from my forest. The truth is my grass is long enough that I have seen a family of bears, a sow and two cubs, playing and sleeping in the grass comfortable enough that they lounge around. I’ve got to mow the lawn.
The art of bartering for me has taken a rather neat swing. I may have gained a way to mow my forest while riding. Just for the trade of an old pickup in my drive. I find that a good trade. Many years ago a white man traded Manhattan Island for a hand full of beads. The natives in New York thought the poor white fellow might have lost his sense of reality, the island was worthless; it was a good trade.
I am now looking at the prospect of a lawn tractor as a good trade for my little truck. I’m wondering which one of us is holding the beads?
Occasionally I’ll take a step out to the edge and look beyond the precipice. Out beyond the horizon lies a void that fills the darkness with the unknown things that dwell there. If you listen real hard you’ll be able to hear the growlings and gurgles of the spooky things hidden there in the dark.
As do most I tend to ignore unknown things and place them in a special place where all forgotten thoughts are placed. As it might, other things get caught in that special place and are forgotten. It was brought to my attention, by an unexpected message appearing on my TV screen sent by my satellite server. Apparently I had forgotten to pay last months bill. Upon digging further into the inquiry I discovered that I had forgotten to pay all of my bills for last month, Holy **##!!
Unintentionally I had taken a step out on the precipice and was given a look. I am behind in many bills, the water bill, the phone bill, the electric bill, everything… Not enough money comes in to pay, but we are paying one piece at a time.
This is what happens when you forego one thing to focus on another, the void snatches you up and drags you to the edge. Got a parachute anyone?
We are self-indulgent creatures. We tend to think in one area at a time, as long as it has to do with us. We also complain about aches and pains and other such things when we don’t get our own ways. We are like children crying in the dark for our mommy’s to come and comfort our booboos. Sounds cynical? Yes, but the truth it is.
A long time ago I climbed to the top of a mountain and sat there expecting to gain some sort of enlightenment or such something, I sat there for quite awhile, nothing happened. However, after about four days of no food or water strange things begin to happen… As I arose to go back down the mountain I tripped over a stump and hit my head. Blinded by the pain and dripping goo in my face I had an epiphany. If I stayed there and moaned and groaned I would probably die due to the weakened state I was in.
I stood up and began to walk. At that point I was talking with anything that I perceived a response. That’s everything in sight. You can learn the coolest stuff from a bug.
That day I found out that complaining only gets me a hell of a headache. However, I did learn how to complain a point and make it stick. Bugs complain all the time, that’s what that buzzing sound is.
My advise to you is, if you ever go to the top of a mountain for enlightenment make sure you watch where you put your feet when you decide to leave because self-healing is not painless.
It’s been a long hiatus away from the blog world. The world has changed in ways that make the viewer wonder what will survive of it. Things have changed indeed.
I was off in the world of academia finishing a project long ignored to achieve a personal goal, attaining a degree in Science Education. I finished the project and have since walked down the isle of the commencement. The thing about the modern college graduation is they put a few classes into one ceremony and make the degree candidate wait for the conferral of the sheepskin at the appointed time. In other words, I walked the walk, did all that was required of me, and now after donning cap and gown I wait for the paper.
My dear wife, Romona, has been so very patient waiting for me to finish. I do believe that sainthood must be given to those who wait. She is a prime example. Having ignored bills, friends, family, and yes Romona, I now have great penance to pay to save my soul from the inevitable of each ill. Damned I might not be, but darn close enough to smell sulfur rising over the hills.
I didn’t know that Summa Cum Laude meant, “You survived with your britches in tacked.” Now I have to find myself a “real” job to pay the devil his due.
Anyways folks, I’m back, and will try to keep up on my writing as much as possible. I hope I haven’t lost you, but will gain you back through the stroke of pen and that charming whit you all know me by. Gracias…