Archive

Archive for the ‘secular’ Category

This is not Bigotry

July 14, 2017 Leave a comment

I am going to avoid forming friendships with two groups in the future. One group is the Jewish cult of Hassidic people. The other group is black people. I know how it can look like bigotry, but I am not against any kind of people in general. Let me explain.

I have had friendly relationships with three black people; two women and a man. All three disappointed me. They took advantage of my sincerity, my ability, and in general, they each, in separate friendships, disappointed me. Of course I will meet with and talk with other black people, but I will shy away from forming any kind of friendship or relationship. I have befriended three different black people in three different environments. They did not know each other. Each one, in ways similar to the others, betrayed my affection.

Similarly, I am never going to form a friendship with a Hassidic person. I have done business, and formed friendships with three Hassidic families. We enjoyed many conversations, teaching each other things from our separate societies. Each was a separate relationship, in business and in friendship. Of course, they knew each other, because they are all connected within their division of the cult.

In spite of very comfortable relationships, each of the Hassidic businesses cheated me. They refused to pay bills, even bills that I had to pay to my suppliers. They would pretend the colour was wrong, or the type was wrong, and used that to justify their thievery.

I did some research into how orthodox people can be crooked. What I learned is this; they have a connection with god, and their allegiance is to god. That’s why they pray 4 or 5 times a day. Their connection with society, however, is unimportant. It doesn’t count, as long as they’re in god’s good books. If one is not a practicing orthodox Jew, one does not qualify for honesty.

All religions, in one way or another, are built with the same self-importance.

Advertisements

Rituals

July 12, 2017 Leave a comment

Rituals organize our lives. We ritualize our days, and have special rituals for some days. Monday to Friday, we do our morning ablutions, maybe eat something, and hurry off to the job. Throughout the day, on the job, a ritual of productivity proceeds. The journey to the job and the return to home at workday’s end are also rituals. Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday might be rituals unlike the workday rituals, but rituals all the same. Those of us that embrace religion have even more rituals. It matters not which religion one chooses to follow, rituals will be a big part of it.

A young couple lived a neatly organized and busy life. They lived in a small bungalow with just two bedrooms. They planned to have a family after five years, when they could afford a larger home. The second bedroom was Richard Stern’s office, in which he worked on line for a large transportation company. Mona Stern, Richard’s young wife, was a tax consultant. She worked for a large accounting firm. She was a certified public accountant, and had risen to become supervisor over a staff of nine. It was one of several ‘cells’. The company found that ‘teams’ in separate cells were more productive.

Mona Stern enjoyed her rituals. She’d rise at six in the morning, go straight to the bathroom to relieve herself and to shower. She would wear the outfit she planned the previous evening. In the small kitchen, she would enjoy her orange juice, rye toast and coffee while watching the news and weather report on her tablet. After the weather predictions, the sports news came on. Mona turned off her tablet, put it into her handbag, and left for the walk to the office. It was five blocks to her place of business.

By eight o’clock, Mona Stern was striding happily along Acorn Road, observing the many small, neat bungalows similar to her own. Ancient Oak trees shaded the street until the next corner. The busy rush hour was under way on Charles Avenue as it was every morning. As on every weekday morning, Mona turned right and strode along the narrow sidewalk. Old industrial buildings encroached on the sidewalk. They were remnants of the industrial revolution and had stood empty for decades. Mona ignored the cars lined up at red lights. She enjoyed her walk every morning, and was comfortable in the familiar routine that she had been repeating every morning for five years.

In the next block, an old building that had been a garment factory was to be transformed into luxury apartments, with the high ceilings and huge windows as selling points. The fact that there was a change taking place along her route after five years was just a bit unsettling. It altered the routine walk to work.

There were pickup trucks along the curb. Rubber cones were guiding the heavy traffic into one lane, around the trucks. High up on the roof parapet, people were installing a heavy beam to project out from the building. It was needed to create an elevator of sorts, to carry up workers, equipment, and materials. Mona was annoyed at the traffic clamour, and hastened her pace, to escape the irregularities.

At that moment, the rooftop workers faltered in their job. The beam dropped, slowly rotating top to bottom. It did not hit the sidewalk lengthwise. End first, the beam struck the old concrete walkway, pierced it like a piecrust and buried itself two feet into the ground. It hit the spot where Mona Stern had been, a second before she hurried to get away from the cacophony of car horns and engine roars.

The blasting sounds of the beam demolishing the concrete right behind her startled Mona. She jumped and turned around to see dust and particles swirling around an eight-foot tall steel beam. A nearby worker asked if she was okay, but Mona didn’t answer, she just strode on her way to her office. She used a quicker pace than her usual, ritual stride.

Throughout the rest of her day, Mona Stern struggled to do her work on the Dominica and Bolivar account. She struggled to stay focused while she assigned her team to various parts of her employer’s largest and most profitable account. The dropped beam, and the vast repercussions that might have come had it hit her, invaded her mind. She sat at her desk and analysed the routine that she knew so well. She began to question the wisdom of so regular a routine. Perhaps a change of situation, rather than a predictable routine, would be safer and perhaps beneficial. Mona resolved not to follow her usual, routine stroll home.

The office closed at four-forty-five. Mona Stern took the time to leave her files in impeccable order, her desk clear and the tools of her profession alongside her computer keyboard. She left the building moments after her staff and coworkers departed. In her normal routine, she would turn left and stride the route home. On this occasion, Mona turned right out of the building and strode in the direction away from home, husband, and fallen beam.

With no preparation and little thought, the young woman strode as far as the train station and boarded a train because it was leaving soon. Mona Stern didn’t care where the train was going; she just needed it to be free of routine.

At the point where the train journey terminated, Mona left the train. She attained an apartment, a professional position, and a new life. She fell in love with a co-worker that fell in love with her. They moved in together. Meanwhile, the young husband back home was frantic with worry. It seemed the authorities could not find Mona because she changed her name to Rose Kroll.

Rose Kroll, formerly Mona Stern, lived with her new husband in a neat bungalow within walking distance of her office. Her new husband began to work from home designing furniture. Every morning Rose showered, enjoyed orange juice, rye toast and coffee while watching the news on her tablet. When the weather forecast ended and the sports news came on, Rose Kroll left the home to walk to her office.

It’s Good To Be A Canadian

July 1, 2017 Leave a comment

My parents were born in Canada, and my grandparents were born in Europe. They were driven from their homes late in the 19th century, and through much hardship and deprivation, started over in Canada.

red leaves

I’m happy and proud to be Canadian, and I enjoy the friendly encounters one has in Europe, when one wears the Canadian flag or Maple Leaf symbol. It should be a sign to the Usas (we don’t allow the name ‘America’, so it’s now Usa. Canada is much more of North America than is Usa) that their flag elicits animosity while ours elicits warmth.

Canada is 150 years old today, and celebrations are rampant throughout the land. Laughter and happiness among all the people, comprised of families from throughout the world. They are not segregated, no matter who or from where.

 

Changing The Lives Of Others

June 19, 2017 Leave a comment

I’ve blogged in the past about being blamed for ruining some peoples’ lives. I debunked the accusations by pointing out that they were getting a free ride from me, while they had little to offer in return. Therefore, when I moved on, and spent less and less time with them, they blamed me for ruining their lives. I guess they were pissed off that they were going to have to get their own cars, boats, cottages, and all. Tough!

I might be able to claim some positive points because I’ve changed some lives for the better. A family was fragmented, there was an ocean between some of them, and when I was attracted into it, several benefits ensued.

I was divorced, and had put a little free ad on ‘Friend Finders’, and it was very effective. I was enjoying several dates each week, and frequent sleepovers. One day I received a response that was different from most.

“I am a doctor in Budapest,” she wrote. Obviously, she was of interest. I thought of her as exotic. In truth, I always hoped to date a doctor. I assumed she would be knowledgeable about the body and how to enjoy it. I also have always hoped I’d have a European lover. I feel that Europeans are more sensual than are North  American women. It’s just an assumption based on personal experience.

This Hungarian doctor was planning to visit a city where I’d lived. She was taking a rare trip to visit her only child, a son, during the Christmas holidays. The boy had moved with his father to my city, for a better life. The boy was just 20, and worked very hard to support himself and his father. He also educated himself and got a job. His father was a chemist, but ill health kept him from working.

The lady doctor is very intelligent, and did a lot of work to communicate with me in English. To help her understand my writing in the many emails she received, I spoke the same words as I wrote, so she could follow the meanings. We began to fall in love on line, even before we met. I was not eager to marry again, and I was having a very satisfying social life. Still, the doctor proved to be wonderful.

To be sure of our feelings, I went to Budapest when the doctor was back home, and stayed with her for six weeks. It went well. I went home to sort things out, and moved to Budapest. I was not able to diminish my love for her because she was so damn smart she was able to patch any leaks I might cause in the relationship.

There was some more flying back and forth over the Atlantic Ocean, some high drama getting Hungarian permission to marry, and finally the paperwork was done. Several more adventures took place, but I want to get to my point.

The doctor retired, she married me in a village on the banks of the Danube, we flew home the next day, and the day after that we moved into our cabin in the forest.

As a result, the loving mother who had been separated from her only child for two decades now had Mom close by. He had me, her Mom’s husband, as a helping hand when his father was unable to.

His life more stabilized, her son married. We moved to a house in the village where her son and his wife lived. They had a baby. My wife was a grandmother, living a couple of blocks from her grandchild. Her son and his wife each had important day jobs, so my wife and I got to participate in raising the child. She spent every weekday in our home, being cared for and taught every day.

After the baby started school, we still had her for about 3 hours every day after school.

So how did I make some lives better? Well a 40 year old son had his mother with him most every day, after 20 years apart. His mother has a grandchild that is with her for part of about 300 days a year. The child’s mother can pursue her goals and have some personal time.

I’m happy as hell, because I love being part of the child’s life, and being accepted as her ‘Papi’, or grandfather. Her biological grandfathers are unable to see her often. My own children elected to be childless, so the stepchild is a dream come true.

As for the marriage, we’re in the 15th year of our honeymoon.

Always in the Wrong Flock

March 27, 2017 Leave a comment

I came from an upper-middle class family. Sufficiently ‘upper’ to belong to a top country club, an exclusive yacht club, and to have a fine city home and a fine summer home on a lake. The catch is; I hated it. I liked having a speedboat, a sports car and a free credit card; after all, I was a teenager. At the same time, I hated the kind of people among whom I lived. I hated the country club ways, and the people that gathered there. If you’ve seen ‘Goodbye Columbus’, you get a look at what it was like. It wasn’t for me.

I like simple people. Honest people with car payments and rent problems like average people. So I lived among simple, hard-working people. I became a simple, hard-working person. I worked in a wholesale fabric warehouse, assistant to the shipper. But I was always separate. Most of those people are devoted Christians. I’m a devoted Atheist. I speak in a more accurate way than my neighbours, and it’s obvious to them. I know some things about art, theatre, and music. They know country music, agriculture and animal husbandry. The people in my area tapped the trees and boiled sap into maple syrup. I helped neighbours with that, just for the love of the experience.

After a few years, I had some friends in the area, but still at arm’s length. I dated women I met on the Internet, so I could seek some that were from a somewhat similar background to mine. They were just small social events among people who wanted to spend less time alone. I believe some of the women would like to have formed relationships with me. To avoid misunderstanding, I always made it clear that my intent was to enjoy with her, some dinners, some movies or concerts, some picnics and goodnight. Each always agreed that it was simply keeping company. These women were usually up to twenty years younger than I was, and a relationship wouldn’t work.

I felt fed up with being semi-accepted in my community and in my private life. I decided to change up, although I’m not sure that the wealthy community is up and not down. Especially during the era of Trump. In any case, I sold out and took my talents into advertising. I used my art and writing commercially. I also created and wrote a television series. I was soon able to buy my way into the pinnacle class of Private Clubs. The average member family had at least a billion dollars. I wore the right suits, I spoke the right words and dated the right ladies. Still, I was again on the fringe.

It was the reverse of the simple, hard-working people. These people never worked. They only lived high and wasted excessively on grandpa’s efforts and innovation. They collected art by price more than quality. They supported operas but rarely attended. Their children were ghastly and destined to replicate their decadent parents. I didn’t fit in. I couldn’t stand them.

Finally, I realized that I’m deeply antisocial, and all of these different levels of society don’t fit me, nor I them. I took a job as a lighthouse keeper. Now I sit out there on that rock, the sea around me leaping and dancing, while I make lunch. Sometimes I paint pictures. Sometimes I watch seabirds, plunging and rising with their struggling prey held tightly in their sharp beaks. I have my dog. He and I have an excellent, calming relationship, and all is well in the lighthouse. My flock is me and my dog.

Lured Into A Secretive Squad (continued 19)

April 27, 2015 Leave a comment

I didn’t sleep very well that night. I have to admit that knowing a splendid amazon was asleep in my guest room at the other end of the hall was the cause. As you can imagine, I suffered with fantasies of her coming down the hall to my room and crawling under the covers with me. Fantasies also of me going down the hall to her room and crawling under the covers with her. I didn’t like that scenario. I preferred the scenario when she comes to my bed. Anyway, neither thing happened and I finally fell asleep about four in the morning.

I woke up at almost nine to the pungent fragrance of bacon frying. I felt fried myself. I dragged myself into the bathroom and made myself presentable. It wasn’t easy. Anyway, I wasn’t about to seduce Naomi Cheslow. She was ‘way out of my reach. She’s rich and smart and beautiful and tall and strong. What would she want with me? On the other hand, she came to my apartment with delicatessen treats and spent the night here. And the fragrance of the very not-kosher bacon must be caused by Naomi. So now she’s making breakfast for me. It was as though a night of sex had just ended and my lover was making breakfast for me. I wish. I jumped into a jogging suit and went to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said when she saw me. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw that you were a secular Jew like me when I saw some of the things you have in your kitchen. There’s nothing Jewish in the place except for the menorah.”

“I hope you were comfortable,” I said. I poured myself a mug of coffee from the pot she’d already made.

“Very comfortable,” she said. She stopped and looked up from the frying pan and straight into my eyes. “Seriously, I’m kind of frightened. Can I stay here for a while? I need to hide and I don’t want to be alone. I promise I won’t get in the way. I’ll stay in my room and…”

“You’re being ridiculous, Naomi. You’re very welcome to stay as long as you’re comfortable. Don’t hide in your room. Just enjoy the place. Order anything you need, on line. Personal things, clothes, things like that and have them delivered,” said I.

“I could have Aileen Schachter go by my place, pack up some stuff and bring it here,” she said.

“Bad idea,” I said. “If they’re watching your place and see Aileen go in and come out with stuff, they’ll follow her here.”

“You’re right, of course,” she said. “What would I do without you?” I believed she was schmoozing me. How could a powerhouse like her, need me?

Lured Into A Secretive Squad (continued 6)

April 4, 2015 Leave a comment

southern_pickup-620x412Clark McCracken’s face went white and his eyes bulged as he stared at the photograph of himself with a penis in his mouth.

“Where the Hell did you get that?” he cried.

“Where we got it is not interesting,” Aileen Schachter said. “What’s interesting is that we have it, McCracken. But don’t worry about it being exposed. You can easily stop that from happening.”

She was still kneeling on his chest while he lay there, blood trickling from his nose, his arms out wide in surrender. I had to smile at this bizarre sight. Aileen was thin as a stick and about five feet four inches tall and weighed barely one hundred pounds. McCracken, on the other hand, was six feet three inches tall and built hard at about two hundred and twenty pounds.

“What do you want?” McCracken growled. Aileen stood up from kneeling on his chest and stepped back. McCracken jumped to his feet and glanced at me. I leveled the Glock at him. He stepped back from Aileen. “How do you mean, exposed?” he said.

“I mean exposed,” she said. “We’ll print up posters and put them up on lampposts all over town. We’ll put them in store windows, plaster them on fences and of course, there’s the Internet.

“Oh, fuck,” said Clark, looking at the ground, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. The poor guy was tearing through his feeble mind, looking for a way out. “What do I have to do to get that picture?” Without hesitation, Aileen flipped the print at him. He tried to duck, but it hit his upper lip and picked up some blood before it dropped into his hands.

“You can have this picture, Clark, to remember your happy time. But don’t worry, we have lots of copies,” Aileen said. “What you’re going to do, superior Aryan, is first; give us the names and addresses of your two helpers in the Hahn family atrocity. After we take care of that, you will be our eyes and ears inside the Aryan Nation. You will advise us in advance of any attacks that you slugs plan.”

“You’re crazy!” Clark said. “I can’t do that!”

“Oh God,” Aileen said, “That’s terrible because I can’t stop that photo from being published.”

“Maybe we can make a deal,” said McCracken.

“Of course we can,” Aileen purred. “You’ll be our spy and we’ll lose that photo. If something goes down that we don’t know about in advance, we’ll find that picture and bring it to you again.”

“Have a heart, Aileen!” McCracken said.

“We have hearts as sympathetic as yours was when you stuck your smelly cock into that poor little girl’s pussy,” she said. “Right now, I want the names of the two assholes that were with you.”

“How do I know you won’t flash that picture around anyway?” Clark said.

“You know because you have a permanent position in our activities. You’re our inside man at the Aryan asshole club,” Aileen said. “If I advertise that you’re a cocksucker, I lose that advantage. I hope you don’t fail me and make me ruin your image.”