This, that, - - - and the other thing

As the snow melted away in Boston, Massachusetts it remained deep in the Berkshire Mountain areas to the west. State Troopers and The Wildlife department joined together to rescue a family who had been trapped at their family farm for over three months. The farm is located at the distant end of a twenty mile dirt road.

It was necessary for the family to continue milking their one hundred head of cows. However, the milk truck tankers could no longer reach the family after the first twenty-six inches of snow started to accumulate. The family came upon a unique solution.

One of their silos had been emptied just a few weeks before the trucks stopped arriving. The family hosed the silo down and inserted a white sleeve made of the long plastic hay holders often seen on farms. When their stainless steel milk cooler became full the family began putting the milk…

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I had heard the story once or twice before. I believe the first time was on a park bench beside the Red Robin Diner in Johnson City, New York.

Red Robin


The second time surprised me because of my location. I was sitting next to an elderly gentleman on a Greyhound bus ride between Malone and Binghamton; both in New York.

It was surely a tale to be heard and then dismissed.

But now I am now compelled to tell you this story because of something that I recently read in an old yellowing newspaper. To be exact it wasn’t called a newspaper when it was printed; sometime around 1865. It was called a periodical; you know, one of those monthly ink menstruations. To my best recollection it was the Atlantic Monthly – – – but please don’t hold me to that.

Ragged Lake


I cannot vouch for the veracity of the story. As I have stated, I had heard it twice before and read it once in print. As that old politician Ben Franklin once said; “Believe nothing of what you hear, and only half of what you see.” So with good prudence I allow you to make your own judgment regarding what you are about to read.

It supposedly took place on Ragged Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of New York.

Now what I have written here is not exactly what was written in print, or heard on a bench at the corner of a small decrepit village, or while sitting in an interminable bus ride. The bus trip took me from the northernmost corner of New York State to the far south where New York shares a border with Pennsylvania. As I have stated, the story may not be exact; rather, it is the story that my mind has combined of all three experiences.

Let’s forget about the park bench, the bus ride and the Atlantic monthly so that we may get on with the story.

It seems as though a British soldier who deserted during the War of 1812 (The Battle of Chateaugay to be exact) found himself wandering through those North Woods. He had been able to exchange his uniform with that of a dead US Volunteer; a buckskin clad woodsman.

The Brit was able to survive due to the accuracy of the Pennsylvania Long Rifle that he had also removed from the dead body. However, that did not last longer than a month or two.

Now here is where the three sources differed. One told me that the Brit lost the flint on the rifle. Another stated that he ran out of ammunition or powder. The printed version said that he encountered a group of Indians who absconded with the rifle.

With his rifle gone, the only means for obtaining sustenance was an occasional apple from an abandoned farm or a purloined chicken now and then. The chicken brings into question the assumption of the lost flint. Otherwise, how would the Brit be able to start a fire to roast the chicken? But, once again, I wander.

The Brit, due to hunger and exhaustion, eventually wasted away into a mere shadow of his former self. One stormy day he took refuge in a small cave. It was hardly more than a cleft in the face of a precipice. Tired, weary and out of strength, he slept there for a day or so.

Upon awakening he lay there pondering his fate. He noticed that at the back of the cave, or niche, the stones appeared to be unnatural. Upon inspection he found that they had been laid up by human hands. His curiosity won out over his hunger. He dismantled the stone wall and found that the cave continued far into the mountain.

The floor of the cave was smooth, apparently worn so by an underground river over the eons of time. The Brit had to crawl on his hands and knees for a short period. Then to his surprise the natural tunnel opened up into a dimly lit cavern. He was able to stand up.

His eyes had become accustomed to the dim light. He cautiously walked forward about fifty paces. There, on a rectangular rock, lay a handful of black walnuts. He picked them up and sniffed at them in order to determine if they were fresh. He finally determined how old they were, not by smell but by seeing that the outside husk had shrunk from age. The Brit took a sharp rock and scraped away the husk of the nicest looking nut. The nut looked fine so he cracked it open. It smelled fresh so he picked at it and found it to be delicious.

The Brit promptly finished off all the black walnuts. He saw no other food in his vicinity and wondered if a squirrel or other small animal had deposited them for later. The Brit sat there contemplating his next move.

“Maybe there are more nuts to be found deeper in the cave.”

He proceeded on until he saw another large flat rock. This one had dried fruits laying on it. The Brit became suspicious and halted his progress immediately. He stood there frozen, almost afraid to look around for fear of what (or who) he might find. Like a timid deer in the forest he stood still for an interminably long time. Finally he roused enough courage to walk over to where the fruit lay and cautiously took a bite from one piece.

It was delicious. He finished off all the dried fruits.

Pondering his condition, his flight from the armies of the United States and the British Empire, his hunger, his lack of weapons, and his unholy predicament; he decided to go deeper into the cave.

Up ahead he could see something on the wall. It appeared to be carved into the stone; words or symbols of some sort. He soon came close enough to make out the characters. They were unreadable to him, unfamiliar symbols. He stood there studying this collection of nonsensical scratching.

A thought appeared in his mind; a thought that seemed to reflect the meaning of the symbols.

“But how could this be? I do not understand the characters but I understand the meaning!”

Convinced that he was hallucinating, he sat down for a minute to rest. Finally he had enough sense to look at his hands. “YES, there is the yellow stain from the black walnut husks” he thought to himself. “And I can still taste the flavor of the dried fruits. I am not hallucinating.”

Finally he raised enough courage to look up at the wall of undiscernible symbols. There it was; one language on the wall and the meaning of that language within his own mind.

“You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame; how could you rise anew if you have not first become ashes?”

The Brit shook from fear as he understood the words. Falling down in deep despair he sobbed like he had never sobbed before. He asked himself ; “What does it mean?”

After some time he was able to control his fear. He decided to determine what he was being told. You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame. “How or why would I do that?” he asked himself. “No, wait, there is more” How could you ‘rise anew if you have not first become ashes?’

“What does it mean? What does it mean?”

Finally – – – it came to him. “I must repent, but for what? I have done nothing wrong.”

He had not viewed his desertion from the army or stealing from a dead man as anything wrong. But now, with this thought on the wall, he clearly saw his own misgivings.

“I know I should repent, but how, there is no one or nothing to repent to.”

He thought about the phrase “You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame.”

“What exactly does that mean? Do I kill myself? Do I flog myself? What does it mean?”

Finally he saw a meaning that made sense to him. He must admit his wrongdoing to himself. But he had already done that and it seemed not to renew him. There must be something deeper that he should find. It was not the act of desertion, nor the act of stealing a dead man’s cloths and weapon.

“What must I do to turn myself to ashes?”

He sat there pondering the question. Then the hunger overtook the question and he continued moving forward through the cave.

The Brit found more nuts and dried fruit to eat. Yet he had found no sign of squirrels, bears or any other sign of life. Soon he found another set of strange symbols on the wall.

Still unable to read the symbols he stared at them and they became clear.

“Silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.”

“That’s it!” the Brit shouted to no one. His voice echoed off the walls of the cave.

“That’s it!” “That’s it!” “That’s it!” “That’s it!” “ it!” “it!” “it!” “it!” “it!”

My mind has been silent. I have not admitted my error. I have kept a truth from being accepted by myself. He shouted once again to no one; “I AM A COWARD!”

“I AM A COWARD!” “I AM A COWARD!” “A COWARD!” “coward!” “coward!”

He felt much better about himself now that he was no longer silent to himself. Yet he did not feel that he had risen from the ashes.

The Brit’s trek through the cave continued on for several days. Each day he found sustenance and could not determine its source.

And several times each day he found more of life’s secrets symbolized on the walls of the cavern.

“What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal.”

“I love him who reserves no share of spirit for himself, but wants to be wholly the spirit of his virtue: thus walks he as spirit over the bridge.”

“He who climbs upon the highest mountains laughs at all tragedies, real or imaginary.”

“I have learned to walk: since then I have run. I have learned to fly: since then I do not have to be pushed in order to move.” “Now I am nimble, now I fly, now I see myself under myself, now a god dances within me.”

With each day’s passing the Brit felt more alive, more attune with himself.

Although he did not realize it the next symbol on the wall was the last.

“The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters.”

“What does that mean. Am I ‘The lonely one?’ Surely I am in this cavern by myself.”

“And why wouldn’t I offer my hand quickly to whomever I encountered? Wouldn’t anyone do so?”

Not realizing that he was coming to the end of his journey the Brit continued walking, looking for food, searching for more symbolic logic.

Then, he saw what appeared to be daylight. Surely it was far off, but it was daylight. He quickened his pace. Upon reaching the end of the cavern he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight that he had not seen for weeks.

There was nothing of note to be seen; a few rocks, a several small trees, a far-off stream, low hills and no sign of life. Surely this was not the Adirondack Mountains.

He caught a motion.

“What was that?”

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me?”

The Brit stood there motionless so as not to give away his position to whomever or whatever may be watching him.

“There it is again!”

He had detected motion. An eye peered around a tree. Then another from behind a large rock. Then another, and another and another.

Eventually he could determine that these were the eyes, head, hair and noses of humans. He felt great relief. Eventually more and more humans peered out from behind various hides. None of them moved forward. They and he watched each other cautiously. Neither dared make a move.

Finally the Brit took one step forward.

The humans came out from their hiding places but did not advance.

He raised both hands in the air to show that he carried no weapons.

The humans cheered and jumped for joy. More humans appeared. One had a beautiful Arabian horse on a rope. They slowly advanced toward him.

The Brit smiled broadly and took a few more steps out of the cave.

The throngs of humans held out their arms toward him. The man with the horse walked briskly, but not menacingly, towards the Brit.

They were all dressed in very coarse woven cloth. Some had their heads decoratively wrapped in linen. Most clothes were light brown but a few were dyed scarlet.

One person took off his red cloak and covered the horse’s back with it.

The throngs of people cheered as the Brit was lifted up by four strong men. They proudly carried him on their shoulders and placed him on the horse’s back.

The people crowded around him and several touched him with great deference. Others desired to touch the hand of those who had touched the Brit.

There was much joy and happiness in the crowd.

As the horse was led forward the Brit could see carpenters working up on a small hill.

As he drew closer it became obvious that they were constructing a crucifix; just for Him.


Quotes on the cave wall were from the collection of Zarathustra; F. W. N.



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Jan 21-Feb 19


Friendly and humanitarian

Honest and loyal

Original and inventive

Independent and intellectual


Intractable and contrary

Perverse and unpredictable

Unemotional and detached



A real Aquarius that plays an Aquarius




Posted in THE ZODIACS | 2 Comments





Diplomatic and urbane

Romantic and charming

Easygoing and sociable

Idealistic and peaceable


Indecisive and changeable

Gullible and easily influenced

Flirtatious and self-indulgent



Thanks for agreeing to meet me.

Good afternoon sir.

It is totally my pleasure.

That is very nice of you to say.

It is meant, my good man.

How are you feeling today?

I am well, thank you.

And you sir?

I am fine.

Do you call everyone ‘Sir?’

No, it is simply the proper

thing to call someone

who you are not yet

familiar with.

Oh? Well can we drop the ‘Sir?’

It makes me feel uncomfortable.

Yes. I would be comfortable with that.

May I introduce you to my Associate,

Miss Simone?

Good afternoon Miss Simone.

Good afternoon Mr. Smythe.

Please call me Peter.

And you may call me Pheobe.

Alright – – – Pheobe – – –

that is a fine name.

And – – – Peter – – –

since we have eliminated the ‘Sir’

you can call me ‘George.’

I am pleased that we have that out of the way.

Phoebe – – – do you live locally?

Why, as a matter of fact, I do.

Why do you ask?

Your complexion is flawless.

It is quite prevalent among

the young ladies from this area.

Very observant Peter.

Thank you George.

Shall we get on with the meeting?

If you do not mind

I would like to get to know

you and Phoebe

a little better before we move

the discussion forward.

That is a good idea.

I did not want to

waste your valuable time

with small talk.

I appreciate that.

Thank you for the compliment

on my complexion.

The truth is easy to speak.

Thank you again Peter.

Now, George, tell me a little

about your experience.

I am not sure if the two of us

run in the same circles.

Therefore I have no names

to give you as references.

That is to be expected.

However, you have seen

my work in the newspapers.

Excellent! Do Tell.

The accident out on I-87?

Yes, I have read about it.

That was my work.

A small glitch in the braking system.

Very nice.

And how did you accomplish that?

When the auto was in for service

I installed a small bug in the

on-board computer system.

Timed and undetectable?

Of course.

Timed to execute only if

the auto was traveling at

70 miles per hour and

programmed to erase itself

as soon as it was done with

the execution; no pun intended.

Marvelous! And your other work

was that published?

Yes. The university expects me

to publish at least three times

per year.

I see.

The CEO that was killed

in the failing elevator;

do you remember reading

about that?

Of course; and on TV also.

Yes, I received a lot of publicity

on that one; well – – – not me

directly, but rather the incident.

How did you accomplish such a

brilliant piece of work as that?

The elevators are monitored by a

maintenance system that records daily use;

number of stops, average # of floors 

travelled per trip and such.


And this maintenance system can be

accessed remotely from any computer

if you know the phone number

and the pin number.

Phone number?

Yes. When you call the number

there is an automatic answering

device that ‘picks-up’ and then

monitors for the correct pin number.

And then?

And then I had complete control

over the elevator.

So I turned the braking system off

and the motors off also.

Can you say ‘free fall?’

(Chuckle) But how did you know

that the CEO was going to be in

the elevator at that time?

That’s were Phoebe comes in.

Ah yes. Sweet Phoebe;

tell me all about it.

It took me almost a month.

I made eye contact with

him at his favorite

watering hole.


It took him about 20 minutes

before he had enough nerve

to have the bartender

send over a drink.


Then another week before

I could seduce him and

another two weeks before

I could talk him into doing it

in his office.

During the daytime?

No Peter,

at night after everyone

had gone home.

And then you departed?

No. Well yes – – –

from his office.

But I hid until I saw him

get on the elevator.

And then you called George

to let him know that the target

was on the elevator?



And what would you have

us do Peter?

It is the Prime Minister.

The Prime Minister?

We don’t have

a Prime Minister.

But, my good man, I have one.

Oh. I see.

He is protected quite well.

But you – – – you apparently

have several methodologies.

That I do, that I do.

However, I don’t work

outside the country.

You should consider it,

we don’t have extradition

treaties with your country.

Good to hear.

But I still don’t work outside

the country.

If you are not confident

in your work

we can end the conversation

right now.

It is not a matter of confidence,

it is a matter of knowledge.


Yes. The knowledge of what

systems run which mechanical


I see; however,

are not all computer systems common?

All based on 1’s and 0’s?

Yes. That’s true. However,

the conventions for transmitting

the necessary data are many fold.


It is not necessary for you to know.

In fact it may be better for you

to be able to claim ignorance.

Ignorance my good man?!

Do I look ignorant?

No. I am saying it is better

for you not to know details.

Very good sir!

However; I am still not

comfortable about working

in another country.

If you don’t feel comfortable

then you are not the man for

the job.

I need a little reassurance from you

that I can move in and out of the country

at will and also move around within its


I can obtain such documents

as you may need.

Good. Can you also obtain

any technical documents

that I may need?

Surely you jest!

I am the Cultural Minister

and have access to any

reading material necessary.

I don’t want you to obtain it.

I want you completely disconnected

from anything I may be doing.

If you do not trust me sir

then maybe we should not

be working towards each

others ends.

Come on boys!

Why is it you guys always

have to end up in some sort

of masculine pissing contest?



I believe Phoebe has

a point there.

Good. Then we can proceed?

Yes George, let us proceed.

My fee is $250,000

plus expenses.

I see no problem.



Are my skills needed

for this job?

We will determine that

as we proceed with a plan.

Bring her along with you.

I will cover her expenses

and we can discuss fees

when we see if her skills

will be necessary.

Thank you Peter.

You are quite welcome Phoebe.

Possibly we can have

supper some time?

That is up to George.

I see no problem with it

as long as you two are discreet.

Sir! Do I think I reached my position

by being indiscreet?

No. But you do look vulnerable.

Maybe I should rethink hiring you

for this job.

Boys, boys, boys!

Can we get serious about this job.

I’m in.

Fine. Contact me by the

usual method when you

are ready.

I am looking forward to

a nice dinner with you Peter.


Prime Minister Dead in Train Crash






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I received a telegram from Jock Crimmins a few years ago.

He said he was doing fine and that Albany is still in the same mess it was a century ago; and will probably be in the same mess a hundred years into the future.

Jock – – – appreciating full well how much the telegram would cost – – – for each and every letter of the alphabet used was quite expensive – – – mentioned a few quick things.

First; the McIntyre Iron Mine, up in Tahawus, was making good progress.

Second; Tammany Hall, down in New York City, was also making good progress.

Third; Ezra Cornell was making headway with purchasing the right-of-ways for his telegraph business.

I took the last item as good news.

Jock also mentioned that Paul C. Stevens had passed away. He said that Stevens died in bed; which is where everyone expected him to die.

Stevens had sort of – – – melted away – – – after the war of 1812. He was a soldier at the Battle of Chateauguay.

Battle of Chateauguay



It was the one and only thing he did in his life that he was proud of.

The battle was in Quebec.

The Battle of Chateauguay map

Stevens, remained in Chateugay, New York – – -not a great distance from the battle site – – -for the remainder of his life. No one could quite figure out why. He had no business place or relatives there.

Chateaugay Four Corners


Stevens liked to tell the story of the battle.

Of course – – – Stevens, being a Capricorn – – – was practical and prudent.

He also had a side that was not so ambitious – – – but he was disciplined.

Everyone in Chateaugay – – – New York of course – – – said the he was patient and careful; yet he could be humorous as well as reserved. That probably accounted for his dry humor.

However – – – Jock often mentioned that Stevens – – – deep down inside – – – had a pessimistic and fatalistic outlook. Jock – – – who supposedly was a good friend of Stevens – – – said several times that Stevens was miserly and grudging.

When I mentioned theses opposing qualities of Stevens, Jock offered a reason for them.

I don’t know if Jock knew what he was speaking of or whether it was something he surmised or if it was the rumors that often circulated around Stevens.

I don’t deal in rumors – – – however – – – it seems as though Stevens had come upon a cache of gold during the battle of Chateauguay. People say that he absconded with it and had reburied it somewhere on the banks of the Chateaugay River in New York.

There is one story that claims that a new keystone bridge covered up Stevens’ gold. He wanted desperately to retrieve the gold before the bridge was built. However, the bridge was in progress of being built before Stevens had a chance to recover the gold. The bridge was composed of large keystones and tons of fill.

Jock said that may be the reason why Stevens was miserly and grudging. He had all that gold and knew he was rich – – – but could never make use of his fortune.

Stevens, on his death bed – – – while in a fever – – – mumbled something to the wife of a potato farmer – – – she was acting as Stevens’ nurse – – – a story about the ‘Gold from Chateauguay.’ She didn’t think the story was factual and quickly forgot about it.

There was a young boy in the next room who had overheard Stevens’ story. He made more of it than the farmer’s wife – – – and he kept it to himself. Later – – – when he grew into a strapping lad – – – a new bridge was built.

 Chateaugay River and Globe Mills and New Bridge

Much of the stone and fill from the old bridge was used as a ‘false-work’ during the construction of the new bridge.

The lad thought that this would give him a chance to recover Stevens’ gold.

He was wrong. No man – – – by himself – – – while trying to keep a secret – – – could move those large stones and tons of fill without being seen.

He, like Stevens, kept the secret of the buried gold to himself. “Someday, he thought, I will purchase the land around the old bridge, a team of strong horses, a sled for moving the large stones and an iron scoop to haul away the tons of fill.”

The young lad grew into a bitter old man as he imagined his gold buried deep in the earth. His only relief was a frequent trip between the Chateaugay Hotel and the Half Way House near Brainardsville. These were his watering holes.

His favorite topic was telling the story about how he knew where Stevens’ gold was buried.

The listeners – – – of the old and moldy tale – – – would continue purchasing him drinks – – – in hopes that the story was true – – – and in hopes that he would add one more clue to the location of the gold.

One day the bitter old sot fell off his horse and froze to death in a snow bank.

However, the rumors persist.





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The Dynamic Duo

Lucas and Toole

VirgoAug 22-Sep 23 Modest and shy

Meticulous and reliable

Practical and diligent

Intelligent and analytical


Fussy and a worrier

Overcritical and harsh

Perfectionist and conservative


Lucas Alone

Lucas said he attacked his mother only in self-defense. He was sentenced to between 20 and 40 years’ imprisonment for second-degree murder. He was released in June 1970 due to prison overcrowding.

PiscesFeb 20-Mar 20 Imaginative and sensitive

Compassionate and kind

Selfless and unworldly

Intuitive and sympathetic


Escapist and idealistic

Secretive and vague

Weak-willed and easily led


Toole Alone

Toole barricaded 64-year-old George Sonnenberg in a boarding in Jacksonville. Toole set the house on fire. Sonnenberg died a week later.


In 1976, Ottis Toole met Henry Lee Lucas at a Jacksonville soup kitchen, and they soon developed a sexual relationship. Toole later claimed to have accompanied Lucas in 108 murders, sometimes at the behest of a cult called “The Hands of Death”.

In April 1983, Toole was arrested for an arson incident in Jacksonville. For that crime, he was sentenced to 20 years in prison. While in custody, Toole confessed to killing George Sonneberg. Toole signed a confession stating that he and Sonnenberg had begun a sexual relationship and, after the two had an argument, Toole lit Sonnenberg’s home on fire.

Two months later in June, his accomplice Henry Lee Lucas was arrested for unlawful possession of a firearm. It was then Lucas began boasting about the murderous rampage orchestrated by the two. At first, Toole had denied involvement but later began backing up Lucas’s confessions. Lucas also backed Toole’s confession to the murder of  Adam Walsh. Walsh was the six year old son of  the host of  ‘America’s Most Wanted’, John Walsh. Lucas had backed Toole’s confession to the Walsh murder, claiming he had been in possession of the victim’s severed head.

Journalist Hugh Aynesworth and others investigated four articles that appeared in The Dallas Times Herald. It was calculated that Lucas would have had to use his 13-year old Ford station wagon to cover 11,000 miles in one month to have committed the crimes police attributed to him. Lucas became widely regarded as a compliant interviewee who was used by police to clear up unsolved murders that he had not been involved in, aided by Toole giving false statements in collaboration.

During Toole’s trial for murdering George Sonnenberg, Toole claimed that he did not light the home on fire and only signed the confession so he would be extradited back to Jacksonville. On April 28, 1984, a jury found Toole guilty of first degree murder and sentenced him to death. Later that year, Toole was found guilty of the February 1983 strangulation murder of a 19 year-old Tallahassee, Florida woman, and received a second death sentence; on appeal, however, both sentences were commuted to life in prison.

After his incarceration, Toole pleaded guilty to four more Jacksonville murders in 1991 and received four more life sentences.

On March 13, 2001, Lucas died in prison from heart failure at age 64. He is buried at Captain Joe Byrd Cemetery in Huntsville, Texas. Lucas’ grave is currently unmarked due to incidents of vandalism or theft

On September 15, 1996, at the age of 49, Ottis Toole died at Florida State Prison of cirrhosis of the liver. As his body went unclaimed, he was buried in the Florida State Prison Cemetery.

Data gleaned and synthesized from Wikipedia




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Leo jpg

So you claim to be a Leo?

Yes, and I am damn proud of it too.

Do you know what they say

the traits of a Leo are?

No, not really.

Generous and warmhearted,

Creative and enthusiastic,

Broad-minded and expansive,

Faithful and loving.


That’s me.

All the above.

Thanks for noticing.

I have to admit that

you are very generous.

How can you say that?

I have never given you anything.


I know you would give anyone

the shirt off your back

if you thought that they

needed it worse than you.

Well – – – thank you.

That makes me feel good.

And you are very creative also.

I try to be but it never

comes out the way I want.

Do you show your work

to anyone and ask

for an honest critique?


Why not?

I have tried it several times.


And the people I ask have

absolutely no idea what

I am attempting to create.

Have you entered into

a conversation with them

to explain your work?


Why not?

Let me try it one more time;

apparently you were not listening.

I said they had no appreciation

for my work.


I won’t talk to people

about my work if they

don’t know what they

are talking about.

Do you know how that

makes you appear?


And I don’t really care

to hear about it.

But you claim to be

a Leo.

Yet you don’t want to

hear what Leos are about.

I suppose I am about to hear it.


I think you should.


I wouldn’t be a good friend

if I only told you about the

good side of people who

are Leos.

Go ahead.

Get it off your chest.

I know there will be

no peace until you do.

You really should

hear this.

You, my good man,

are an ass.


I’m trying to help here.

Can I help it if I have

no tolerance for

your esoteric


THAT – – –

kind of attitude

is exactly what

I wish to tell you


Don’t hold it back,

like I said;

“get it off your chest.”

Here it is.

I can’t wait.

I have told you about

Leo’s good side.


There is another side

of the coin?

The bad side is they

appear to be

pompous and patronizing,

bossy and interfering,

dogmatic and intolerant.

You are saying

that is what I am?

Good friend you

turned out to be.



You didn’t listen.

But I did.

No you didn’t.

I said that is what

Leos APPEAR to be.

I didn’t say they were

actually like that.


You see Leos are not

named after a lion

for no good reason.


And they tend to

roar in order to

cover their fears.

Fear of what?

Fear of criticism.

I am not afraid to

be criticized!

Oh no?

You just told me

that you don’t want

anyone to look at

what you create.

I said I don’t want

people who don’t know

what they are talking about

to criticize my work.

Are you sure that all

those people have no idea

what they are talking about?

Of course!

Oh – – – I see.

Are you sure you are not

just rationalizing away

your fear of criticism?


DAMN IT – – –



You see – – –

right there – – –

you are a Leo

roaring to cover

your fear of my criticism.


Maybe you have a point.

Well – – –

I don’t want to belabor

the subject.

I appreciate that.

I will need some time

to think about what you

have just told me.


Now lets grab a beer

and go out to sit

on the patio.

Sounds good to me.


Then I can tell you

about my neighbor

who is a


Oh Christ!

More esoteric bullcrap.

You must be a Sagittarius.

How did you know?

You all think that you are

some sort of philosopher.


Maybe you have a point there.







Posted in THE ZODIACS | 3 Comments