A Gentleman's Agreement

The President was beyond frustrated and he vented to his old Chancellor.

“I’m tired, Franz. I’m 85 years old and you know I didn’t even want to be here. I’m missing my retirement and instead what am I dealing with? We’ve suffered to keep this land together since the end of the war and we’ve never been able to form a consensus in the government – not once! All I’ve done is use Article 48 to bypass the representatives in order enact the most basic of legislation. And when they manage to somehow find enough agreement to try and nullify the laws, I simply dismiss the government and call for new elections! What’s the point of even pretending that we have a Constitution?

“Since you were forced to resign the Chancellorship, I’ve been miserable. The American banks calling in their loans, hyperinflation, six million unemployed, spending cuts, higher taxes... The economy? I don’t remotely understand it and frankly I have no desire to!”

Franz consolingly frowned at his old friend.

“There is a way; a way to peace. I have secured a gentleman’s agreement with the leader of the majority party. But there is one condition...”

It has been said that a person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. Paul von Hindenburg appointed a man to the Chancellorship in order to placate him and avoid the continued deterioration of the Weimar Republic. He inadvertently placed his nation on its fated path because a year later he was dead, and the man he legally appointed used his unique power to merge the office of Chancellor with the vacant office of President.

Neville Chamberlain also made a gentleman’s agreement with Adolf Hitler on September 29, 1938 naively intended, as before, to achieve a “peace for our time.”


The Megalithic Magician

Edward stopped his work when the frogs quit their night-chorus. Someone was prowling about. Outside the walls surrounding his property two teenage boys crept through a grove of palms:

“I’m tellin’ you Johnny, that stone floated like a balloon, right over his head.”

“Okay, but if mama finds out I sneaked out on a school night again, I’m done for.”

“Come on, you chicken; boost me up...”

A few minutes later, the two boys peered wide-eyed over the top of an 8’ coral wall. By the light of the moon, they saw a short man in coveralls standing motionless before an intricate stone machine.

“What’s that thing?” Johnny whispered.

“I don’t know. Keep it down ‘for he hears us.”

The man didn’t move for a long time and Johnny grew impatient.

“He ain’t doin’ nothin’, I’ve gotta’ go... hey... is he singin’?”

A low chant echoed through the night as the man finally broke his trance. He raised his hands into the orans position and slowly repeated a single word over and over.


Suddenly the wheels on the machine came to life and began to turn. A shower of sparks erupted from it and a boulder beside the man shakily lifted into the air. But just as quickly as it happened, it ended. The machine went still, the rock dropped, and the man violently turned towards the boys.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted.

The boys didn’t stop running until they reached their beds.

Satisfied that he was alone again, Edward matter-of-factly went back to his block and tackle.

On December 4, 1951, after 32 years of solitary work, Edward Leedskalnin hung a sign on his front door: “Going to the hospital.” Three days later he met his end, but the mystery and legend of his Coral Castle was just beginning.



Welcome and thanks for the "follow" to YADU KARU!


"... or the goose gets it!"

A small group sat on a bench by the door of Callahan’s General Store, waiting for it to open.

“We ought to just snatch one from Town Lake,” Captain James said.

Lori shook her head, “Look, the press is already on our side, we don’t need to add a crime to whatever publicity we get.”

Mother Nature added quickly, “But there definitely has to be some kind of consequence, right? Like when those Vietnam protesters out in Berkeley threatened to burn the puppies if no one listened, right?”

The bells on the door jangled and an employee poked her head out.

“Good morning, folks!”

Diana replied with a warm smile, “Can you show us where you keep your swans?”

A few days later on May 6, 1988, the officers from the newly-formed Street People’s Advisory Council met on the banks of Barton Creek in Central Austin, Texas. About a hundred supporters were there, along with representatives from most of the major press outlets.

A man was listing his grievances behind a microphone but the attention of the reporters kept being drawn towards the bird honking away inside a parakeet cage.

“...and these are our ten demands: First, a public meeting with the mayor...”

A journalist from the Statesman leaned over to Lori, “What happened to the swan?”

Lori blushed.

“We only had $17... Who knew swans cost so much? We had to improvise...”

As the speaker wrapped up, “Either these demands are met...“, another homeless man came swimming up from the creek. He removed a Bowie knife from his mouth and yelled out, “...or the goose gets it!”

Homer the goose didn’t “get it” though, this time or the next. And his perpetual reprieves soon made Homer one of the celebrity-faces of homeless advocacy across the nation and the world.


Сардэчна запрашаем і дзякуй

Dimitri Bashko, the latest and bravest to "follow" here!

Sensical Nonsense!

Welcome and thaks for the "follow" to alix-black!


The Cosmic Conspiracy

Trudy Truelove. That was truly her name. What a name. She was Jim’s girl, in Roswell on July 2nd, 1947, anyway.

The couple reclined in the bed of Jim’s pickup some 35 miles north of town, giggling and kissing. A collection of empty beer bottles lay on the ground and bits of clothing were hanging randomly about; a shirt draped over the tailgate, a sock balancing on the mirror, a bra clinging precariously to a branch above them.

On the horizon, lightning flashed.

Trudy sat up and inhaled the ozone as the wind suddenly whooshed down from the sky.

“Jim, we better get the tent up before the weather sets in.”

Jim grunted and gently pulled at Trudy’s wrist, inviting her to lie back down.

“Sweetie, I’m serious!”

With a smiling sigh, Jim got to his feet. A long groan of thunder echoed through the hills and a streak of light unexpectedly caught his eye.

“Look at that!”

Trudy looked up just in time to see a fiery disk whiz overhead at a tremendous speed. A loud clap accompanied its disappearance over the ridge a mile or so away.

The lovers quickly dressed and sped off to investigate the crash-site of the flying saucer.

What followed proved to be a tangled web of deceit, fraud, and cover-ups. The government tends to be the usual suspect in these types of cases, but in this particular case the web was especially spun by the “witnesses.” (This version of) the story of Jim Ragsdale and the stories of nearly every single participant in what has become the colossus of all conspiracy theories don’t hold up to competing and contrary facts.

But that has never stopped man from believing, once he’s set his mind to it... or if there’s a dollar to be made.