In Honour of the Great Pumpkin

[totally off the wall, by Sha’Tara]

Forget everything you know… or think you know, and follow, follow, follow… the Great Pumpkin as SheHeIt rises out of the pumpkin patch and rolls merrily down the street, spewing out GMO candies for all the obese little boys and girls. The Great Pumpkin, akin to all gods, likes to see those over whom he rules and drools, resemble herhimitself.

Ideas from quotes found wherever and other sources too numerous to enumerate. Some of them could even have evolved from my own vale of imagining-making. Let’s not be sickly sweet truthful or honest.

Choices, choices: I do not know what, or how, to decide my next move. But am I asking you for help or direction? No, so relax while I digress.

Sometimes, out of the blue and for no particular reason, I smile. Please do not interrupt me when I am thus so rarely occupied.

Out there, in the far distant distance, behind some trees and a small muddy river, hidden by rising clumps of blackberries and red elderberry bushes a cow mooed. Not just once, but many times. No one answered. I’m assuming that’s OK with the cow. I’m assuming it didn’t expect any answer. I didn’t answer: my bullshit analyzer and mooing translator was dead; I’d forgot to put it on the charger when last at the barn. I also realized I wasn’t up to the embarrassment if I mooed the wrong message and called up a load of bullshit.

This shady suburban area collects cats and squirrels. Squirrels are destructive rodents, I do not like them. Cats are rodent killers, but do I like that better? I’ll leave that answer blank, the STTTPCTDA* might take exception to whatever answer I give. Honestly I think it’s a trick question.

The advantage of self-empowerment over self-delusion is, you don’t have to ponder rhetorical questions: they ponder themselves into senselessness. (I thought I’d throw that in while the lid was open.)

There’s a giant box store just out of town. It’s full of stuff it’s convinced people they can’t live without. House sparrows make their homes in the rafters and girders. I like that. If the business of selling crap isn’t too loud (or noisy if you prefer), you can even hear them chirp in those heavenly highs. Brave little guys, living up there in their chosen heaven, inhaling all those fumes from Chinese plastic wrap. Box Store House Sparrows are known to have short life-spans. It’s in the Threatened Species book, no, not last years’, the new one published last month.  They sell copies at the box store.

They have a freeway out here. It isn’t free and it’s over fifty years old. It’s obsolete – two lanes each way when three would barely accommodate commuter and long weekend traffic. Doesn’t matter, weekenders have lemming brains. (Sorry, lemmings and I hope the STTTPCTDA doesn’t read this part.) Necessary or not, tell them it’s a long weekend and they have to be on that freeway with all the claptrap of an imploding middle class of two-day tourism to rented cabins and over-crowded campsites on unwashed lakes. Do they care that they’ll be wasting ten or more hours of their lives commuting to those places and back? Of course not. Caring implies intelligence; please don’t spoil the weekend.

Feel free to browse, she said with a commercial smile. Was she telling me how I should feel? How presumptuous. I left the store, crossed the street, walked over the raised railway track and stared at the sea. The fog was lifting. I wondered what it would be like to feel free? Neither the fog nor the pale sun had any answer.  I was on my own here.

You can’t “feel” free said the Darwinist scientist. Freedom doesn’t exist; it’s a mental concept, and the mind only exists as brain, so you are mindless, he said. And I thought, what does that make you, you insipid idiot? I didn’t say it out loud though I itched to do it.  Sometimes I think it’s good to be proprietary, or do I mean simply proper?

Here’s a short list of the types I don’t like. My “like” or “don’t like” aren’t arbitrary. I spent an entire lifetime (up to now, that is) deciding which professions I liked and didn’t like. Here it is, in “don’t like” order: doctors, lawyers (liars), judges, every sort of academic twat, psychiatrists (shrinks), counselors, preachers (without exceptions, should have put them in with the lawyers), bankers (in with the lawyers you go, now!) politicians (without exceptions also – in you go, into the lawyer tank!), lobbyists, evolution-pushing Darwinists, professional entertainers, sports figures, military types (any military type), commentators, TV anchor people drones and talking heads, CEO’s (disliking those who don’t even know they’ll become one- I can always tell, there’s a smell about them), gods, born-again Jesus peddlers and newspaper editors.  OK, don’t go away mad… just go away.

Did I miss anyone important, impotent? As I said, it’s a short list, a very sort list. Don’t feel bad if your profession is mentioned, I don’t know you and that means you remain redeemable, even if you are a god or a gynecologist. People have been known to come back from the dead. Even if they didn’t remember being dead that takes nothing from their accomplishment.

I digress, I know, but I love digressing. You can dress casually when digressing and society doesn’t go into lock-down or fakebook global panic.

Imagine, if you will, a wide sandy beach. The tide is almost completely out; the sea sparkles out there a half a mile away, blue-grey, shining it’s brightest.
Imagine if you will a lone individual walking towards what is about to become a returning tide, purposefully striding away from the safety of the shore.

Imagine if you will that same individual of no discernible gender or vintage, walking naked and unafraid to the open sea, a silhouette of dreams.

Watch carefully as the individual’s stature shrinks steadily with each naked footstep in the wet sands; as the distance separating the individual from the returning tide diminishes, as the water wraps itself hungrily around the feet, ankles, calves, thighs and finally wraps itself entirely around the body, picking it up and casually floating it back towards the shore. 
Imagine… I don’t have to, I’ve done that, many, many times. I can’t explain how wonderful it felt then and still does now.

That’s digressing. Wonderful, isn’t it?

I wrapped up the job, he said as he sat down beside me. (“He” being Dave). We were in a restaurant where we had planned to meet. So far, so good. I wondered, as I’m wont to do when I’m not digressing and trying hard to be in the moment, what you do with a wrapped up job. Do you put it on a shelf? Do you mail it back to yourself, or send it to someone you like, or someone you dislike? Your boss? The customer? Is it like a birthday present? A Christmas present? I wondered what colour of ribbon he used and if he affixed a bow? The bow is always a nice touch, especially if the job was well done. I’ll ask the cook.

Speaking of presents, would you like a job already wrapped? If yes, I’ll need your address, of course. How much does it cost to mail a job? If no, then it doesn’t matter, does it. Of course if you say yes, I’ll have to ask Dave what he did with the wrapped up job. How much insurance do you put on the package? Is it valued in weight or in time? So many questions, so little time.

The waitress came to our table. She looked harassed and haggard. Both. I wondered if she ate there and thought I’d ask Dave if we could go somewhere else to eat. He was ogling the waitress, below her harassed and haggard looks and down her tip-expectant cleavage. Dave isn’t big on discernment. (Take that as an opinion backed by some serious observation.) She had on a short black skirt and heels, both well below the haggard and harassed looks, both also tip-expectant recent purchases. New to the beat, hm.

I sighed, long and deep, with much feeling involved on my part. We were going to stay, order, and he was going to eat. I could hear his thoughts, ‘I’m not about to waste a perfectly delectable waitress.’ Of course he didn’t use the word ‘delectable’, that being way beyond his vocabularian expertise. It’s practically beyond mine!

With so little to do and Dave totally engrossed between steak and lust, I thought I should digress a little. Digression isn’t fattening and I didn’t think it would make me harassed or give me haggard looks. A good digression beats a good digestion any day of the week except maybe after Sunday brunch. It is well behaved, and totally reliable. Besides, I was wearing a turtleneck sweater and slacks. I felt safe from both harassment and haggardness.

Now just in case I come down with something and can’t answer when you ask, “Haggardness” used to be a small town in eastern Scotland. It had two golf courses but it played havoc with their tourist trade so they traded it to Australia, or so I’m told. I don’t, of course, believe everything I’m told, but this particular telling is intriguing, so I am partially believing it. I wonder what they got in exchange? Kangaroos, I’d bet. There are ten zoos in Glasgow, start looking!

… and finally, as I return from plagiarizing my own mind and a wonderfully satisfying digression… a reminder: “The owners of this country know the truth, said George Carlin: its called the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.”

And closing with this one because if you don’t think about it, it has a Halloween touch:
“Trees talk to each other at night.
“All fish are named either Lorna or Jack.
“Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose.
“Tiny bears live in drain pipes.
“If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.
“The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago.
“Everyone knows at least one secret language.
“When nobody is looking, I can fly.
“We are all held together by invisible threads.
“Books get lonely too.
“Sadness can be eaten.
“I will always be there.
— Raul Gutierrez, “Lies I’ve Told My 3 Year Old Recently,”

( STTTPCTDA: Society To Try To Prevent Cruelty To Dumb Animals)

13 thoughts on “In Honour of the Great Pumpkin

  1. rawgod

    Digression is usually a brilliant way to waste time saying nothing while pretending you are saying something. But I digress, I meant to say that squirrels are beautiful animals, and cats are very intelligent, they just don’t like to show off in front of stupid humans–might give the humans an inferiority complex, if they are smart enough to know what that means.

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      We have black squirrels here, wandered up from the port of Vancouver or Stanley Park. They are the size of small cats and truly ugly up close. I’ve had to trap many as part of my home maintenance work. Big rats with bushy tails… possibly related to Hannibal Lector… 🙂

      Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks Frank. Free entertainment for all and sundry, step right up folks! Sometimes I have to shut down the serious railway for maintenance, so I give kiddie on the clown train.

      Reply
  2. Lisa R. Palmer

    I found a white squirrel in my backyard recently. And I have a black cat. They seem to get along just splendidly…

    I may look like the Great Pumpkin, but I don’t do sweets. I think I prefer the bitterness that life in these times is…

    And I stood on that shoreline last night, back to the incoming wave that threatened to swamp me, and I waited to be overrun. This morning it finally crested, smashing down with all the force of creation behind it. But, instead of toppling me into the sand, it rushed through me, funneling through my heart as though I wasn’t some obstacle. I didn’t drown. I didn’t fall. Some water trickled into me, pressing against my forehead, seeping down my cheeks as random tears. And I remembered another conversation I had with my grandson this weekend, about not drinking salt water because it will make you crazy. Even if you’re dying of thirst…

    But I digress here. What I wanted to say was “lovely post, Sha’Tara! It made me laugh, and think. And then smile again. Thank you!”

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks for commenting, Lisa. I have never seen a albino squirrel, must be something to see. You probably step mom an entitled cat. Entitled cats don’t do much of anything beyond meowing to see what it will do and stretching. Chasing rodents? You kiddin’ me? That went out with the ark, lady. Glad you enjoyed the kiddie ride.

      Reply
    2. Sha'Tara Post author

      Clever AND humorous? What is this world coming to. I was shooting for something when I concocted that post but forgot what the target was supposed to be. That’s when you use great-great-great grandpa’s blunderbuss. Bound to hit something as long as it’s within the 3 meter range. Thanks for your comment, Regis. Is someone called Regis automatically registered everywhere? That could be handy you know.

      Reply
  3. mcaimbeul

    😂 absolutely superb, we may have the same “don’t like list” which could explain my 21 years of wilderness solitude 😁. I going back through your recent post to check if any of my responses didn’t record.

    Reply
    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Hi Mike… I’m not ignoring you, just going down the line here saying hello and whatnot. I bet you we could both really pad that “don’t like” list. Peel the uniform, suit, and pretensions from some of those and oddly enough, sometimes if rarely, you actually find a human being. Dangerous occupation though as they strongly resent being exposed like that. They don’t have names, they have titles. Like books and movies, probably because their claims are fictitious, or is that frictitious? Fractious? Maybe they are inbred fractals?

      Reply
  4. Apple Rae

    What a mind you have! 😍 So witty with the perfect touch of humour in a beautiful form of digression. Oh well, i digress way too many times a day and I laugh at my own when I think of it. But the way you do it was just brilliantly funny and adorable! Kudos to you, my dear ❤️💯

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.