What Can I See?
Month: April 2018
That Is How We Roll…In the Country
We got the Courtroom. Check. We got the Judge. Check. We got the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty…don’t we??? That is when the fun began because he-thought-she-thought-they-thought…
Wasn’t it someone else’s Job Description to actually bring the accused from the local holding cell to his arraignment? Seems everyone was so busy busting their chops to arrive early to meet the newly assigned Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge that one worrisome detail was neglected… transporting the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty.
Trying to wear her very best poker face, Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge asked which prison official had the duty to ensure the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty made it to court? Easy answer …It was George-Come-Lately…but today was the first day of the hunting season and well, that was like as sanctified (in his mind) as a Pilgrimage to Mecca, or like Lent to a Catholic. No way he and his buddies would be anywhere but the back country in their neon colored hunting jackets with reflective strips, matching caps, long barreled hunting rifles religiously ensconced in slings. Safety first…always…Safety First…
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge sighed (or was it a scoff) and asked who was cross-trained in that event? Bewildered, the local constabulary gazed back at her – the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges, the Crown Attorney who would go to the ends of the earth to keep his Stats at ZERO losses and the Court Appointed Paid From the Public Purse Defence Lawyer, who had no skin in the game but it did guarantee him some paid legal fees…and of course, the town folk, split in to two factions…a small group of members of the Secret Society of Scryers (who supported the former Judge) and dared show their unrepentant faces. Then, those that embraced the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty and like an Amish Zealot, shunning the English, they shunned the Establishment and its trappings.
Now, you know and I know the former Judge, who knew when a butterfly flapped his wings, in this town, (still does) would have been sure all the bases were covered, tasks assigned. Even his naysayers admitted (grudgingly) that his courtroom ran like clockwork….seemed Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge had some learning to do about this part of the country. The simple life…well, it is not so simple.
The Crown Attorney puffed out his chest recommended ‘someone’ just phone the Warden and have Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty sent over to the Courthouse.
At that point the Officer-That-Laid-the-Charges jumped up and said it would be more efficient if he’d just crossed the street and walked the prisoner out of jail, across the four lane highway, with cars whizzing past like they were on the Autobahn, and up the Courtroom steps. No way he’d put leg shackles on Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty. It would be tricky enough without that. Okay, okay, he’d make sure the handcuffs were on securely but this was Farmer Joe’s son….he wasn’t going to pull any funny stuff….and if he did, well, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges had a gun….not that he would have to use it, you understand.
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge looked at the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, asked the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges how long it would take to complete his delivery of the accused, banged her gavel and said, ‘Court is Adjourned till Mission Accomplished’, stood up abruptly, barged through the swinging door behind her, into the sanctity of her chambers.
A quick scan around the courtroom saw smirks and grins, even some guffaws on the faces of not only on the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges but also on the members of the Secret Society of Scryers and the town folk that shunned the Establishment and its trappings. It seemed though they had opposing view points, their sense of humour
was still in sync.
It was going to be a steep learning curve for Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge…not like anyone would put a hand out to help her…and if she put her hand out….well, don’t be shocked if someone (accidentally, I am sure, totally), stepped on it….
Because… you not kin…. you not in…. even worse if you’re a ‘Come from Away’…Cuz that is how we roll…in the country.
I Do It My Way
I am the Diva Calico Gen, prone to seek out and claim all things that Sparkle and Glow…like a big old cantankerous crow….without the feathers. No, I am Divinely Calico, sleek and soft and sometimes….just sometimes, more trouble than I am worth.
Please understand, what is off-limits for others, never applies to me…at least in my mind…the way that I see it. If God made me in such a way that in one leap, I could be on a kitchen table or cupboard, surely He meant for me to do just that…even if it brings out the tattle tale in Jakita, who believes she was put on earth to being Law and Order to all Four Footed creatures. One sure thing…if I go fishing in the basket for a treasure, like say a push-pin, a ribbon, a no longer in use penny and knock it to the floor, Jakita will pursue it with passion. Game On….till she looses…because I have more finesse and speed and staying power.
I ♥♥♥ Jakita….but when it comes time to share WonderBoy’s affection…not so much….It is each beast, on its own mission and the winner takes all.
If Jakita wedges herself by WonderBoy’s side to sleep, I claim his pillow, purring annoyingly loud, look at me, listen to me….anything she can do, I can do better….much better. After all I come from the rough and tumble, born in the Great Outdoors, with no Two Footed Assistant. Even though I scoff about Jakita’s Pedigree Blue Blood lines, (according to her) I acknowledge that the Two Footed assisted in her birthing process in order to sell her for big green back bucks. Sadly, though I was a freebie, Jakita, through no fault of her own is part of Evil Capitalism….but I try not to let that diminish my love for her.
In my heart, I am a Pacifist and am curious and welcoming of all felines in my midst….I’ll even seek out the tattered strays….because I like to live on the edge and….realize, truth be told….that could have been me…if Momma had not scooped me up, along with Bad Boy Andy and Beau-Regard, out of a Life of Noise and Confusion, Hunger and Adventure at the Tier One Automotive Plant.
Still I can never deny my feline DNA, even though at three and a half weeks I lost my Cat Mama and gained a Two Footed Momma who never could teach me how to stalk my prey, sleep all day, prowl all night.
I am not quite sure Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte (Charlie) is really a cat (except she has the hissing down to a science), because she has no interest in hunting, scavenging or even stepping a foot outside….no, Charlie is inside all the way, in a Cocoon of Bliss created by Momma.
Why would Charlie ever leave a safe haven for the unknown??? Is it possible….maybe Charlie is wiser than me…even? Yeah, but…. who wants to do a Risk Assessment for each and every dreary step (obviously come under the influence at the Tier One Automotive Stamping Plant) me…I’d rather do an Action Plan ….(If my toes are held to the fire…long enough).
Cuz…Just like Frankie Baby…I do It My Way….
Liberate Me, Set Me Free
Her: Liberate me, set me free…..I just hate it, when you patronize me….
Him: Lend me a hand, I’ll set you free….You liked me Macho when you first met me…
Her: Analyse me, I want you to see…Shadows lurking, so don’t blame me……
Him: I look in your eyes, what do I see….I can’t take it, when you hypnotize me….
Her: Codify me, don’t make me flee… You say it’s for my sake, when you criticize me….
Him: You want to play hide & seek with me……But now you’re it, from me you flee…
Her: Please understand me, hear my plea … If you want me to stay, don’t antagonize me.
Him: I just don’t know, don’t got no key….Big words frighten, a simple man, like me.
Both: Words are the weapons, as two worlds clash…Make us understand, God help us last….
