WOW #58

 

I am the walrus…. No, wait. That was John Lennon.

I AM THE ARCHON

And I have been since a high school history class in 1958, when we studied the Classic Greeks. The king of Sparta was killed in a battle, and his son was only 11. The law stated that he needed to be 18 before he officially succeeded his father.

Seven of the king’s closest friends and advisors formed a committee, and offered to protect and mentor the young teen until he could take over. They became ‘The Archons.’   True to their word, they trained and advised the young man for years, and when he came of age, they crowned and installed him as king.

Impressed by their wisdom and honesty, I decided that I wanted to be an Archon – a tribal elder, a senior statesman – passing along knowledge and integrity. It is a self-appointed title that I’ve held for over 60 years.

Somewhat sadly, the word/name/concept did not begin with the ancient Greeks. It actually goes back to, or beyond, the time of Gilgamesh and the Mesopotamian Empire. The original meaning was of beings that held power and positions which they were not authorized to hold.

Modern Christian Apologists have decided that these tales were about demons afflicting mankind. I have been unceremoniously dismissed by Christian debaters, because my ‘Archon’s Den’ website is obviously a home for the Devil.

Well, now that I’ve made it all about me, it’s about time that I dragged out the Word Of the Week, gave credit where it is due, and explained why.

Once upon a time, I claimed that I was ‘The Archon,’ and blogger buddy Jim replied that, of course I was, and he was the

POLEMARCH

That had me quickly scurrying for a dictionary and a history text. It turns out that, while an Archon may be a noble, a member of the aristocracy, one who makes the laws to rule a country – the POLEMARCH is a senior civilian bureaucrat, charged with the administration and enforcing of the rules.

I hope that Jim is not dismayed when I say that the Polemarch is Fascist. Like the swastika symbol, the poor word ‘Fascist’ has suffered a reversal of fortunes and meaning, which may not be set right for another hundred years. The left-hand, reverse swastika has been the symbol of the Zuni Indians’ Sun God for centuries.

The right-hand version, presented flat and square, instead of the diamond Nazi method, had been a good-luck symbol to the Hindu and Jain religions for millennia. It has even been accepted by various Christian sects as the cross of Saint John.

The Greek concept of the Polemarch was adopted and modified (along with so many other things) by the Romans. Administrators named Magistrates – a word, which in English, means ‘master’ – patrolled Roman cities, dispensing justice. They were accompanied by one or more assistants, bearing their badge of office, called ‘Fasces.’ (fass-case) These consisted of an axe, the blade visible and facing outward, surrounded by a sheaf of wooden rods.

Actually, only the rods were fasces, but the whole assembly soon took on the name. The axe (more than) symbolized the power of death – by beheading – capital punishment.   The wooden sticks were used to administer a beating or flogging – corporal punishment, for lesser crimes.

Instant justice, delivered hot and fresh, on the spot – today’s lawyers would be aghast at the lack of fee-producing stays and appeals. The term ‘fasces’ produced the word Fascist when Mussolini’s WWII Brown-shirts co-opted it, and the symbol, to show the government’s seizure of the right of life and death over the population.

No True Atheist

Like “No True Scotsman”, no “Real Atheists” can exist, because Nada insists that they would all kill themselves to escape the evils, ills and woes of life – among other foolish claims.

I say….
No ‘real Atheist’ would be fool enough to claim that it is impossible for God to exist. Only a few are arrogant enough to even insist that He does not exist. What Atheists have evidence of, is that your particular delusional description and definition of God does not, and can not, exist. The proof of that are the continued skeptical denials in the comments to your heated claims.

Thanks dear! I sincerely appreciate your reply and it got me curious. So what is the atheists’ conceptualization of God? And what’s the solid scientific evidence of such conceptualization? (P.S.: I did not actually present a description of God … but let’s assume I did anyway)

That’s it, Nada; push those goalposts back another 10 yards. Begin with the baseless assumption that they have one, and then demand not only a description, but scientific proof for something that Atheists don’t even believe exists.

I hesitate to speak for others, but I’ll try to explain Atheists’ conceptualization of God. It is very much like their conceptualization of Bigfoot, but with less hair; like fairies, without their tiny wings, much like their concept of leprechauns, but without the pot of gold.

It very much resembles the inside of a whiskey bottle, after you’ve drunk all the booze. There’s nothing there, but it distorts your perceptions, and makes you feel good.

I have heard, literally, hundreds of similar-but-different descriptions of God. Is yours like that of ‘Good Christians’, Catholic or Protestant? Does it resemble the Yahweh of Orthodox Jews? Does it agree with the Allah of observant Muslims? Heard all those and still don’t believe them. Is it like Joseph Smith’s, or L. Ron Hubbard’s, or even worse, Heaven’s Gate??! All sizzle – no steak! All claim – no proof!

If you have a definition which varies significantly from any of these, I would be most interested to hear it, likely entertained, and probably amused. 😳

So you’re saying that for atheists there’s a notion of a potentially existing God but it is also a mythical non-describable being that created all of this??!! Is that it? That’s what you prefer to and find logical to believe?
Please don’t misunderstand me for making fun, I’m genuinely bewildered

To sum up my thought: I find it incredibly bewildering that an atheist is willing to believe anything, any theory unproven yet, any ridiculous illogical argument for the non-existence of a proper All knowing Creator , but vehemently opposed to the possibility of a Creator.. it’s almost like they hate the idea with a vengeance despite all the good that may result from such a proposal, even if it was a myth that people chose to believe.

I too am genuinely bewildered. It must be all the unfounded assumptions, the sweeping claims and questions, and your tendency to put words in other people’s mouths. You ask about what Atheists think/do/feel/believe, as if they are all one cohesive bloc. There are as many opinions, as there are Atheists. The only thing that they all agree on, is that they have never been presented with a description of a God, potential or real, that they find believable. They do not find it logical, and their preference has nothing to do with it. No, I don’t ‘say that’, nor does any other real Atheist.

I am bewildered that you disapprove of Atheists supposedly believing unproven, “illogical” scientific arguments, but believe the idea of a personal God on blind faith. You don’t seem to understand the difference between the active pursuit of proof of the non-existence of God, (which can’t be done) and the passive lack of belief of claims that He does.

There are some few, usually not ‘Real Atheists’, but failed Christians, who desperately claim that He does not exist. Many Real Atheists that I know, would welcome His existence, and would have the honesty to accept Him. I mean, Who Wouldn’t? I would! – Salvation?? – Forgiveness?? – Heaven?? – Eternal Life?? There’s just that little sticking point of no real proof. The loudest of the Christian Apologists not only do not provide it, but, if you’d read my Dec. 11/19 30 Day Challenge, you’d see that some of them offer theories so crazy illogical, that disbelief is almost mandatory. 🙄

You expect me to believe that a universe that I even cannot see all of, let alone imagine its boundaries and content exists just like that… by itself.. no beginning… no instigating force… no management?

On a percentage basis, there are as many arrogant, deluded Atheists, as there are Theists. I don’t make any of the above claims. I don’t expect you to believe anything! I stated that my mind was open to evidence, and the chance of change. You clearly stated that I would not change your mind. For a self-avowed Science-lover, you seem disturbingly ill-informed. Your glass-of-water analogy shows that you don’t understand the concept of nascent properties.

Time and Space are inextricably interwound. Time only began when the hyper-dense singularity blossomed to become the Universe. Before that, it existed in a timeless, spaceless “place” where all happenings occurred simultaneously. Therefore, it could be infinitely old, yet have been ‘created’ yesterday.

The construction of your objection does not make your intent clear. Universe…. boundaries and content exists just like that… The Universe is a brute fact, which must be accepted as is. It exists, and has existed, the way it does…. Because! Did you mean, ‘without an identified Creator’??

by itself.. There may have been previous Universes. Perhaps a property of that trans-dimensional space, is to occasionally shit out baby Universes. There may be an infinite number of co-temporal ‘Multiverses,’ but we can’t reach them to prove that they do, or do not, exist. Again, are you looking for a Creator?

no beginning… The ‘Beginning’ of the Universe was 13.78 Billion years ago, when the Big Bang caused the singularity to unfold, creating time and space. Before that, it was only an unrealized potential.

no management Why would it need management? The Universe possesses a number of immutable laws, which control the grand scheme. The very purpose of the variable minor details is to create change and improvement. If I plug in an electric alarm clock, it needs no management. I don’t have to reset the time each day. The Universe is not like a car, which needs to be constantly steered.

no instigating force… It is possible that an entity, existing in that non-space ‘space’ reached out a tentacle, and nudged the singularity, causing it to expand. The creature which ‘instigated’ the Universe may not have ‘created’ it. In any case, you are conflating the concept of a Creator, with a God, or in your case, Allah. Even if I specify to the existence of a being which created the Universe, I, along with many others, see no evidence of a personal God/Allah – no miracles, no answered prayers, no care or concern about what we eat, drink, think, believe, say, do, wear, or have sex with.

’20 A To Z Challenge – D

I am the God of Hellfire and in this episode of the A to Z Challenge, I bring you

D’EATH

(deeth)
This little-known English word is almost as uncommon as the imported surname. The D’eath family originally lived in the town of Ath in Belgium. There it would have been rendered D’Ath, or De Ath, meaning from Ath. It was also occasionally an occupational name for a gatherer or seller of kindling. In this case, the name is derived from the Middle English word dethe, which in turn is derived from the Old English word dyth, which means fuel or tinder.

Families with the name D’eath might know where it came from and what it meant. The word’s other reference is to the rather sketchy occupation, whose bundles of firewood sticks known as faggots, have deteriorated into a modern insult for homosexuals. To the superstitious, this, and its similarity to the word ‘death,’ make them uneasy when they encounter it.

Lord Peter Death Bredon Wimsey DSO is the fictional protagonist in a series of detective novels and short stories by Dorothy L. Sayers (and their continuation by Jill Paton Walsh ). A dilettante who solves mysteries for his own amusement, Wimsey is an archetype for the British gentleman detective.

In one book, the hero investigates a suspicious fatality at a company doing sensitive government work. He poses as the man’s replacement, under the name Peter D’eath, telling the manager that he hopes it will startle the guilty party into somehow revealing himself. It was an amusing but needless literary device, because the author goes on to show that it was a prank of a mail-room teen with a slingshot – an English ‘catapult’ – which caused the man to fall down a flight of stairs.

Flash Fiction #227

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

INVEST IN YOURSELF

Josh’s orientation meeting at the investment firm was an eye-opener. He thought that he would be offering carefully researched stocks and bonds to willing buyers.

The Sales Manager said, “Our analysts are good, but we’re not here to make our clients rich. We’re here to collect a commission on every trade, whether they’re buying as stocks soar, or dumping when they dip. The economy works, because they believe that it works. If you sense any reluctance, turn up the volume! Give them a little song and dance. Most of them love the personal attention, and your paycheck will appreciate it.”

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Small Town Reality

A recent humor post about small towns elicited some comments, questions, and not-necessarily-good memories. For those with curiosity, or defective nostalgia, here’s the real low, down.

Baskin-Robbins only has three ice cream flavors.

Corporate America has still not reached my little Canadian town. There used to be a couple of independent, Mom-and-Pop convenience stores that hand-dipped ice cream, before pre-packaged treats became available. Now they subsist by selling lottery tickets to folks dreaming about having enough money to get out.

You had to step out of the village limits in order to change your mind.

That’s a trick question. Nobody in my town changes their mind.

The nickname for the city jail is amoeba because it only has one cell.

Hah! Our town jail has two cells. One for drunken white men, and another for drunken Indians from the adjoining reservation.

McDonalds only has one Golden Arch and the nearest one is 15 miles away.

The nearest one is in the next town, 5 miles closer to the nuclear reactor, and the only source of employment left in the area.

Instead of a 7-11 they have a 3.5 – 5.5.

See ‘no corporate America’ above. 3.5 X 5.5 refers to metres – 20 by 30 feet sized convenience stores.

The New Year’s baby was born in April.

With all the screwing that’s going on, some of it even by people who are married – to each other – you’d think this would happen earlier in the year. All praise free birth-control information on the internet.

The “Welcome To” and “Thanks for Visiting “signs are front and back of the same sign.

The town has a lot of long-term summer residents – rich city folks who own expensive cottages. Neither they, nor the residents, really want transient, stay-at-a-tourist-camp visitors. There is no ‘Welcome’, or ‘Thanks’ sign. It was left to the Department of Highways to identify where drivers were with a generic sign.

You have to go to the next town to find 2nd Street….

At least there’s nothing as bland as 1^st, 2^nd, or 3^rd Street in my home-town. We have a British-type, High Street, which I was born on, as well as street names like Morpeth, Anglesia, Grosvenor, Grenville, Landsdowne, Breadlebane, and Augusta.

A “Night on the Town” only takes about ten minutes.

There are bars in two hotels on High Street, a block apart. White folks drink at one. Indians drink at the other. If you drink too long at either, your ten-minute ‘Night on the Town’ could stretch to 72 hours in the appropriate comfortably-appointed jail cell.

The Subway restaurant that serves foot-long sandwiches cannot fit within the village limits.

See ‘no corporate America’ again. There is a French-fries/hamburger/ hot-dog take-out building on the highway, behind the bank. It limps through the winter months, and produces retirement income during the summer.

You do not bother using turn signals because everyone already knows where you are going.

Laid out by British surveyors, the town has good sight-lines, and broad streets. It is one of two towns in Canada with a 100 foot-wide main street – most have 66. If you do manage to cut off a local resident, they feel free to tell you where to go.

Big social events are scheduled around when the high school gym floor is being varnished.

The local Legion is big enough to handle most ‘big’ social events. The local high school was closed in 1955, because of lack of students. The couple of dozen per year are bused five miles to the 350 student ‘District’ high school.

You call a wrong number and the person who answers can give you the correct number for the person you are trying to call..

While this was once true, the internet has become a boon, since the big Don’t-Give-A-Damn epidemic hit town.

There is no point in high-school reunions because everyone knows what everyone else is doing anyway.

This is true of those too dumb to get out. The ones who leave, just tend to disappear.
“Do you remember Bob?”
“Bob who?”
“We went to school with him.”
“You mean Rob?”
“Maybe….”
“I got no idea where he went.”

School gets canceled for Provincial sporting events.

No-one in my town was good enough at any sport to qualify for Provincial meets. Senior elementary classes are sometimes bused to District events.

It was cool to date someone from a different high-school.

It had to be from the same ‘District’ high school, but at least you could date someone from a different town – or a farm girl, who could show you alternate social uses for the hay-mow in the barn.

The golf course had only three holes.

There’s a quite-nice golf course, 2 miles out of town, where the old highway wisely bypassed this social morass, a century ago. More recently, a developer included a tournament-worthy course as a perk with his new housing subdivision, on the other side of town, right next to the Indian reservation, whose residents are wisely not allowed to be members. They are both 18-hole courses. Amusingly, just 2 miles away from my current, big-city house, is a course that the city has grown out and surrounded. It is a par-3 course.

Anyone you are looking for can be found at either the Dairy Queen or Wal-Mart, over in ‘The Big City’.

I remember when I thought that it was the cultural center of the Universe, with all of 10,000 residents.

Directions are given using the one and only stop light as a reference – after they finally installed one.

Even after they redirected the highway through the town, instead of past it, the intersection with the main street was a 4-way stop until the Department of Highways insisted on a traffic light in 1955. It’s still the only one.

Weekend excitement involves a trip to the grocery store.

1955 was a year of excitement. A Canadian-based supermarket came to town to challenge 3 little independent grocery stores. While considerable excitement can be had with bananas and cucumbers, the entire town was agog when they imported coconuts.

Your teachers remember when they taught your parents.

My Dad was a Johnny-come-lately, carpet-bagger, non-native. My Mom left in her early teens during the dirty-Thirties, and returned as an adult. None of the teachers had been inoculated, or developed a resistance to me.

The best burgers in town are at the four-lane bowling alley.

Our bowling alley had the best burgers and 8 lanes, but was an unheated summer-only, beach bowling alley, only open from the end of May, till Labor Day. The next town down had a year-round, 4-lane alley, but no lunch bar. The best burgers were next door at the owner’s A-frame, chalet diner.

Tell us about your tiny home-town…. or the unfortunate section of big city that you grew up in.

Double The Fun

Yesterday, I went to my boss and asked, “Can I have next week off for Christmas?”
He said, “It’s MAY.”
“Sorry boss, MAY I have next week off for Christmas?”

***

My roommate claims that I’m schizophrenic….
….The joke’s on him. I don’t have a roommate.

Today is International Cannibal Day….
….Celebrate with a friend

My head says, Gym….
….My heart says, Nachos

My wife tripped and dropped a basket of freshly ironed clothes….
….I just sat back and watched it all unfold

I just bought a new mouse pad….
….That should stop them leaving footprints all over the kitchen

Kids don’t put anything back where they got it….
….unless it’s an empty cereal box

There are two times when a man doesn’t understand a woman….
….before marriage, and after marriage

A little boy asked his father, “How much does it cost to get married?”….
….Dad replied, “I don’t know. I’m still paying.”

The secret to a happy marriage remains a secret.
Henny Youngman

Marriage is the main cause of divorce.

Death and taxes are inevitable….
….but at least death doesn’t keep getting worse

What happens when two raindrops fall in love?….
….They become rain beaus!

A seal walks into a club….

I tried to pack myself into a small suitcase….
….I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself

My religious next-door neighbor worships exhaust pipes….
….He’s a Catholic converter.

My Mother-in-law fell down a wishing well….
….I was amazed. I didn’t know they worked

I’m on a vodka diet….
….I’ve lost three days already

I was never a fan of SpongeBob….
….I prefer dry humor

To the person who stole my glasses….
….I will find you. I have contacts

You should always hang out your laundry….
….otherwise it’s launwet

God moves in mysterious ways….
….but Bishops move diagonally

I have a new theory on inertia….
….but it doesn’t seem to be gaining momentum

I invented a new word….
….Plagiarism

People who live in glass houses….
….should think twice before making purchases

How do I feel about the Earth’s rotation?….
….It makes my day

A Thesaurus is great….
….There’s no other word for it.

I’ve decided to sell my vacuum cleaner….
….Well – it was just collecting dust

My Father suggested that I register for a donor card….
….He’s a man after my own heart

I had a great childhood. My Dad used to put me in a tire and roll me downhill….
….Those were the Goodyears

WOW #57

Nobody is totally useless, or wrong all the time. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day. While they are often irritating and contradictory, a Christian Apologist recently gave me a new word. He wrote that ‘God is

FROWARD

The eyes do not see. It is the mind which truly sees, and the mind sees what it expects to see. The blogger’s usage of the word kept seeming wrong in his context. I read it three or four times, before I realized that his correctly-spelled word, which meant
willfully contrary; not easily managed
from the concept of ‘to and fro’ – this is not to-ward, it is fro-ward – the negative
was probably being used incorrectly.

I don’t know why a God-believer would describe his Deity with such an adjective. It seems almost as if he were trying to “control God” into doing, or at least meaning, something that supported his views.

Or, perhaps he was just flinging around scholarly, cultured words, in order to appear erudite. I know I do. I’ve just managed to get another whole blog-post out of a word that I don’t expect to ever use (or see) again. This is what happens when Ego runs high, and creativity runs low. I’ll do better next time – I promise!

Walkin’ In Memphis

A co-worker once tried to set me up with her pregnant nanny. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know about the baby bump till afterward.

In later years, I was awed and amazed at how much I walked when I was younger. As a child, I walked miles and miles of my hometown, including three paper routes. I had a bicycle, but there were times and places where bikes did not go – or were left unattended – so I walked.

When I got my first job, a hundred miles from home, I owned a little English car, but there was no place to park it, and I couldn’t afford to bring it along – so I walked and walked, to get to know my new city. One evening, I walked a young lady a couple of miles home from a restaurant, on a coldly bitter February night. I left at -18 F, and returned an hour later to -23 F. By the time I walked back, I had frozen both my ears solid.

Even 20 years ago, when we visited Charleston, SC, the wife and I walked all over the Old Town, one day, ending by walking from the aquarium, all the way down to Battery Park – about 2 miles – and back, to the car.

After I had worked at the bank for several months, the head teller asked me what I did in the evenings. With no communal rec. room or TV, I stayed in my room. I listened to radio, read, hand-wrote 2 or 3 several-page letters each week, and assembled car models.

That would not do. I should get out and socialize. She had two children under five, and had hired a nanny/housekeeper, so that she could work at the bank. The girl was about my age, and had come from Newfoundland to Ontario for a job. I was given an address, and a time next evening, to present myself.

The walk to or from work, was about a mile and a half. After walking home for supper, I cleaned up and set off. From my domicile, to her house, was a bit over a mile, but as I got near, I realized that there was a slight problem. The street I was on stopped, and continued, further on. The cross-street stretched a long block in both directions, turned in the right direction, for the width of two house-lots, and ran back together, forming a large horizontal O. I could see her house, but it was an extra two blocks…. if I walked all the way around.

The back yard of the home in front of me abutted her back yard. There was no fence at the top of the driveway, which meant no dogs. I quietly walked past the house, and across a couple of inches of snow in the yard, vaulted a four-foot chain-link fence…. and I was there. Going home later, I just reversed the process.

Later visits proved that I wasn’t alone. My double set of tracks in the snow were soon joined by several others. Either this was already a well-known shortcut, or I had started something. I never got stopped or yelled at.

On my first visit, I was met at the side door. I was not taken up to the main floor. I don’t know what her living room, her husband, or her kids looked like. She led me downstairs, introduced me to the au-pair…. and disappeared. On later visits, I just let myself in.

The basement was completely finished. There was a comfortable den, with stereo and cable television, the nanny’s bedroom, a breakfast nook, and probably a laundry room where she spent considerable time and labor.

Used to high school girls who weren’t giving away much, if at all, I wasn’t too insistent with my expectations – a little slap and tickle, a little grope and grab. Mostly, we just cuddled, watched TV, talked, and got to know each other. With each visit though, the petting sessions were growing a bit more intense. She was a lusty lass.

Finally one evening, she reached over, grabbed a big handful of my crotch, and said, “Oh, you’re horny.” Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how OCD I was about English usage. I knew from the vernacular, that ‘horny’ meant sexually aroused. I later found that it actually means ‘horn-like, hard.’ It’s mostly a male thing, although engorged nipples and labia must surely count.

I was usually horny when I was with her, but she said it almost like an accusation, so I replied, “Well, you’re horny too!” “What’s that?? What did you say?” I wasn’t about to debate definitions with a Grade 8 Newfy girl. I shut up, and wouldn’t answer her.

In an attempt to recapture the mood, she said, “It’s okay. You can do whatever you want. I’m already pregnant.” Screech! Wait! What??! Apparently she wasn’t as busy and lonely as her employer thought she was. I quickly let myself out, vaulted the fence, and never came back.

About three weeks later, the teller asked me if I knew that the girl was pregnant. I admitted that she had told me, the last time I was there, but that I wasn’t responsible. I walked away from that trap.

***

Click here if you’d like to hear Marc Cohn sing that 1990 title song.

’20 A To Z Challenge – C

 

 

 

 

 

 

Technological obsolescence! It’s a term to describe things that we no longer do or own, because our rapidly accelerating science-driven lifestyle has replaced them with something newer, although not always better. (Remember Windows Vista?) 😯 We’re on generation 12 of Smart phones, and the Chinese are providing the 5G cell phone system to run them on, as well as COVID19.

The telephone operator lost her job when dial phones came into existence. The dials turned into push-buttons, and the push-buttons morphed into touch screens. The poor English language is having trouble keeping up with it all.

Let me introduce you, and then say good bye, to

CHIROSPASM

Spasm of the muscles of the hand, as in writers’ cramp.

Now there’s an expression that you don’t hear any more. It was common for hundreds of years, from religious monks inscribing Bibles, up to school children frantically composing essays for English class all desperately, tightly, clutching quills, pens and pencils, till their hands cramped.

Then, along came the electronic age, with its word-processors and keyboards. Archaic old chirospasm and writer’s cramp have been replaced by hunched-over-the-keyboard data-entry shoulders, and your cell-phone-toting grandson’s texters’ thumb.

Fortunately, I have never sprained or strained either of my middle fingers, the ones so necessary to communicate with taxi drivers and politicians. That would be the only physical disability which might affect my capacity to express myself, although I am just an amateur, compared to some of the old masters.

From his seat inside a private rail car during a vacation in Salmon Arm, BC with his children on August 8, 1982, Pierre Trudeau, then the Prime Minister of Canada, gave the finger to protesters in Salmon Arm, British Columbia, earning the incident the nickname the “Salmon Arm salute”. The gesture itself has also been nicknamed the “Trudeau salute.”

Our young drama teacher ski instructor Prime Minister learned at the knee of one of the (self-described) greatest.

Flash Fiction #226

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

BETTER TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE

I came off the Parkway, to surface streets, and at the top of the ramp stood a 30ish female with a sign saying

Homeless and Hungry
Anything will help

Seat-belted in, guys can’t reach wallets. Women with purses are good marks.

Clothes are neat and clean – there’s an insulated bag, stuffed with something. Under/behind it is a $125 backpack, better than mine. Its carry-handles tied around a sign-post, is a Wal-Mart bag full of groceries, including four cans of Campbell’s soups. It’s hard to make those up over a campfire.

I’m not saying she’s a scammer, but she looks it. 😳

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.