Cancer, the Pale Rider.

"The dark hand will call you,
From out of nowhere it seems
The black cloud will bust apart
Shattering your dreams."*

I have a cousin, an absolutely delightful person, one of the sweetest people. If you ever met her you are lucky. She is losing a terrible, endless battle with cancer. May have already lost. We have drifted apart over the years, but, her smile, and kindness are unforgettable.

Her toughness is undeniable. She has battled bravely. For years, it seems, she has fought the most pervasive, terrible scourge unkind nature has delivered. She told people that she could only work three days, and she said it apologetically. She seemed to feel she was letting people down. She had cancer, and was worried she was not doing enough! Her bravery and strength are a monument to all of humanity.

Think, for a minute, if you are lucky enough to have never faced that demon (and those of us who
have not, are the lucky ones) what that diagnosis must be like. For just one minute put yourself into the seat across from the doctor sentencing an innocent soul to that torture. "You have cancer. Even if it isn't lethal the next few months are going to be hell. And even when we think you have won, you may have lost, this may never end." Think for a minute the terror, and gloom, and pessimism that would invoke. But, do yourself a favor and don't think about it too long.

Thinking, briefly, about the people I know personally, who have been through it, the numbers are staggering, and I hardly know anyone. My cousin, her mother, my mother, my brother-in-law, the CFO of a small company where I worked for a short time, my uncle, another cousin, and his sister, whose cancer moved so quickly and completely the fight was over before it really started, my wife' boss's wife. And this list is not complete, by any means, and I avoid sick people because I am a coward. Of course, there is no way of knowing how many people who have faced this and just did not want to talk about it.

According to Medical News Today, 1 in 2 people will develop cancer. Further, according to the American Cancer Society 1 in 4 men, and 1 in 5 women will die from cancer. Horrifying numbers, mind numbing numbers, incomprehensible numbers, but only numbers. Think of the people you know, think of the nicest among them, think of their smiles. Cancer doesn't care, it will take them just the same.

Really, our only recourse is to try to live a healthy life, take care of ourselves, donate to our favorite charities, try to make a difference any way possible. And whatever else you do, be nice to people, they might be next. And that is an awful thought.


Graham Parker, Fear Not

So It Begins.

Our building is very old. It has a past that is not entirely wholesome. People speak in hushed tones about the days it was used as a speak easy. Tales, awful tales, circulate about the time it housed the overflow from the local jail. Mythical, monstrous stories, of terrible and awful occurrences. All dubious origin. Nobody thought they were true, but everybody believed them.

Initial construction was completed in the late 1800s. Three additions were cobbled on to the original over the next 37 years, leaving dark corners, small dank recesses, and oddly shaped rooms scattered in unexpected places. The whole building teeters on the line dividing reality and the other places. Places where the darkness is more than the absence of light. Places where the darkness lives. Places where the darkness is so absolute it cuts a clean line at the threshold, even sound won’t enter those places. Places where people go and never return. Sometimes the body, the vessel, comes back, but the person doesn’t. There are lines in our building nobody should cross.

This too, has been a place of darkness

In the basement is the darkest place of all. It is up a small flight of stairs, with a small rectangular landing. There is a heavy gauge chain link fence with a sturdy gate, held secure by an imposing lock, that separates the two places. In there, the darkness is darker. If a person were to watch long enough, and that person would be a fool, the darkness will start to boil, and roll. Twisting, dancing, living. Occasionally a toy will tumble down the steps, landing at the fool’s feet. If the fool had any brains at all he would not touch the little ball, or truck. No, the best course is to finish your task in the less dark part of the basement, and get out, as fast as possible.

During those early days the company had developed a very workable relationship with several manufacturers in developing countries. They produced the components for several machines that were moving beyond planning to procurement and production. Transformative machines with enormous potential. It would take some time to gather all the pieces, and assemble the parts into the whole. All of those parts needed to be stored somewhere. Once the rest of the building was full we were left with only the basement.

As the final crate was pulled from the elevator and the ordeal was almost over there was the slightest movement from the darkness.  A darkness slightly darker than the impenetrable black. Stirring, shifting, fading, coming closer, moving away. It had a  sound, breathless, gasping, terrifying. We stood, frozen in terror, knowing our lives were over. All of the sudden the great price on all the needed parts seemed a terrible deal, a balance sheet that was going to be zeroed out with our deaths.

As we stood, waiting for the end, a small cup tumbled down the stairs, it had a delicate ring as it fell from step to step. At the bottom it landed gently on its base. It was spotless, and shone as though it had just been polished. The voice grew louder, clearer, and it sounded as if someone were clearing their throat. “Tell John🍺 our cappuccino machine is broken, please.” It said.

“Right away.” we said, running up the stairs, faster than any man had ever run.

🍺 John is the equipment manager.

Life Explained, by the Life Explained India Office

One bizarre fact about living is knowing that one day you won't. Let's start from the start. I was about 5 foot smaller than I am now when I was born. I weighed about 60 kg less. Astonishingly, I could not even talk. I could not even walk.

I recently had a new member introduced to our family. Incidentally, he is small too. Neither can he walk, nor can he talk. Hell! He pisses in his pants, and he can't even tell everyone of what he just did (not that he would want to). Poor kid. So difficult is life for him now. It was once for me too. Mom says everyone goes through the phase. I think she is right. Mom also says life may not exactly be difficult for the kid. She might again be right.

Then, with time I grew up. I went to school. Made wonderful friends. Learnt what I thought was necessary. Then, in no time everything became a 'blast from the past'. All the good stuff became sweet memories. Rarely, I get to meet my friends. My academic career in the aftermath became a bit of 'hit and miss' too. So, what was the point of all that? If we got to loose everything at some point. Why life addicts us to them initially?

I met a friend at the day of writing this post. I felt he had changed since the last time we met. Shockingly, he changed for better. I remember this guy who I often advised on why to be positive, and why he would do big things in life. The same boy this day tried his level best to explain to me the reason to have an open attitude toward life. To live in the present. He did not need to say a word, really. He was himself an example of a welcome change.

Let us consider something serious. I am alive now. I would assume that you are alive too if you are reading this (disclaimer: it's not mandatory to be alive to be reading this). I will die sometime. You will too, only if you are alive in the first place (disclaimer: to die, it is mandatory to be alive, you can blame nature for that). However, the timing of death has not been mentioned to us. Unfortunately, it could be the next moment. Let's take in another situation. Think of things you enjoy (the little things like jumping from 8,000 metres above sea-level, with a parachute of course). How about I tell you that the RIDE you enjoy, you can sit on it for free, but the ride will never stop. Do you still want to get on it? Just that RIDE is life.

At the time of writing this post, my referred friend is not someone who has achieved it all. He may become one, he might not. He is enjoying his moment, he understands CHANGE is life. He has learnt to love his life, to LIVE his life. Have you?

All I wrote here is for me. I share it still for no reason. It's nothing new, but still it kind of is. Is it?

It was not my fault, not all of it, anyway

My aging is kind of a problem. For example my memory. It has improved so dramatically I remember things that didn't even happen. Man, I was a hero, epic and immortal. When things got bad, who did people call?  Well, you know the answer. Not really, mostly my memory is very unflattering, and it seems like I spent most of my life as a dork. But, that is fine, because it doesn't seem to be genetic. My sons seem to be able to manage in social situations. It, it one less thing to worry about, and life offers plenty of opportunities for concern.

1. Phosphorous Deficiencies.
2. Curly Top Virus.
3. Flea Beetles
4. Tobacco Hornworms
5. Fusarium Wilt
6. Bacterial Canker
7. Catfacing
8. Sunscald

And these are just if you are trying to grow tomatoes. Plants are pretty simple things and seemed relatively fool proof, until we decided to garden. 

Now, we have to check the soil acidity, and pH levels. Fertilizer, and water, and sweat, and tears, and they produce a few tasty, but small tomatoes. And then the plants wither and die. But, hope springs eternal, and every year we try.

This year it was two tomato plants and a pepper plant, and we killed them, poor plants. They aren't
dead yet, but they are fading fast. I feel awful. Poor, innocent plants, stuck in the ground, motionless, unable to escape, helpless against the coming catastrophe. I am not sure they understand the hopelessness of the situation.

Next year I might warn them, when we are picking them out, I might add, "this is a suicide mission, you will have no chance of success, and we are looking for volunteers. Any takers?" I will have to do this behind my wife's back, she still believes we might figure this out, and enjoy a bountiful harvest. Poor, innocent wife.

It might be kindness that kills the plants, it might be they need a little discipline. "Grow, damn you!" I don't know.

After looking at our plants our neighbor said we could have some of his tomatoes, a little charity is good for the soul, and the salad, and the bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich. We will feast tonight.

Come back when you have a real list.

According to an article on the Newsweek website (Newsweek stopped publishing their printed version several years ago) now is not the correct time to worry about the Ebola virus.  There are several things much more worrisome, (What, nothing about spiders) for people living in America.

While it is very reassuring that Ebola will probably not cause my untimely demise (in my opinion it will be untimely anytime) it is nice to know someone is still thinking about other lethal problems.

Being decapitated by a roller coaster was not even on the radar, until now.  Sure, there was always the secret suspicion that a person could be launched into low Earth orbit by a faulty seat belt detection module, and a careless, bellicose ride operator.  But, if that happened I was taking the person in the car with me, sorry son, you shouldn't have made me get on that suicide machine.

Being killed by horses was always a concern, however armed with the knowledge that over 100 people in this country every year are killed in "equestrian related activities" really cements the concern in the psyche.  Occasionally, in Columbus, mounted police patrol streets when there are festivals, or events.  They might as well start riding pit bulls, or those nasty, awful wolf things from the Lord of the Rings, called Wargs, I think.  Plus, every year we have the Quarter Horse Congress, (whatever that is) we should probably make sure our wills are current, and our final arrangements... arranged(?).

Malaria, food poisoning, bee stings, self immolation from excessive drinking, all of these could kill me.  Thank you, Newsweek, for making me aware of these potentially lethal incidents, but, trust me, that is an amateurs list.  You wrote nothing about elevators, scorpions, jelly fish, sharks, tall buildings, flying, lightning strikes, falling space debris, commuting,  and on and on.

When you are ready to talk about impending doom and catastrophe you can send me an email, and we will put together a real manifest of hazard.

This Life Suck? Don't take chances with the next.

Reincarnations Control, Inc.

Don't wait for life to give you what you "deserve."  Life stinks, and it always has and it always will.  Unless you take control.  Unless you are willing to invest a little in your future, your future life, that is.

Now is the time to take control of your next life, with Reincarnations Control, Inc..  Don't wait, who knows how long you might have.  We are the leading supplier of next life preparation, and option planning.  We know what it takes to get you the life you deserve!

Don't put something so important in the hands of fate, or chance, they are fickle, cruel and cursed with a wicked, bizarre, twisted sense of humor.  They will have you shoveling out horse stalls in the heat of the southwest, they brought you this life, is that what you want?

A little planning (with a minor outlay of capitol) will make sure when you come back you will have looks, wealth, charm, wit, fame, respect, popularity, happiness, personality, shiny lustrous hair, all of the things you lack now.

There is no point in spending your next life toiling in a dead end job, living in a hovel, friendless, ridiculed, scoffed at, discarded, ignored, struggling to scrape together enough for a decent funeral, that nobody will attend. You tried that in this life, and look how miserable it made you.

Remember our motto, "Don't let your next life suck as much as this one!"

Reincarnations Control, Inc. a division of Kraft Food.