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“Politicians Be Damned – Statesmen Are Needed!”
IM000268

By
Gregory V. Boulware

‘What Defines a Republican, a Democrat, a Politician, or a Statesman?’

What is a ‘Republic’ as opposed to a ‘Democracy?’

How many of us have actually met or spoken to a “Black Republican?” Would you know of one who actually represents you and your community? What about the Asians, Latinos, Native Born Indians, and other non-white groups? How about Black Tea Party Members?

Would you believe it if I told you that Dr. Martin Luther King, Frederick Douglas, or George Washington Carver were staunch Republican Members and Supporters of the party?

Maybe you might think that I’m completely ‘crazy’ or ‘off-my-rocker’ to say such a thing. But, I’m here to tell ya – oh yes, it’s true!
However, they also stood up and fought for us – they tried to educate our people on the country / world economics, political clout, held and maintained a strong-ness in our (your) beliefs.

One such portal to education, economical strength building, and political clout was the now gone, ‘Philadelphia Berean Institute!’

“The Jewel In Our Community” would have/has turned One Hundred and Sixteen Years Old. It was founded in 1899 on the original site of 1901 Girard Avenue, in the heart of North Philadelphia. The Rev. Matthew W. Anderson, one of the first Black Graduates of Princeton University developed a school for the economically disenfranchised masses of Southern Blacks who migrated to the North in droves without the education, economical savvy or political clout it took to prosper in the predominantly white power structures of the country’s northern cities.

Back then, students were taught and trained in plumbing, carpentry, dressmaking and tailoring professions.

Today (pre-closing), the school teaches accounting, business administration, electronics, paralegal services, data processing, computer science and repair, secretarial science, cosmetology and barbering, among a host of other available educational programs. The college (post 1900) specialized in Career Certification and Associate Degrees. Students who qualified for the courses either had to possess a high school diploma of G.E.D.

The courses have changed (from past to current) while the mission continued. Dr. Spencer, who was ‘Dean’ when I attended, said:
“The main goal is to keep tuition affordable and create a state-of-the-art campus. We hope to expand our campus by 2005 with the addition of a new building, right across from the existing building on this very site.”
That dream never came to pass.

In a 10 year span, Berean Institute had graduated more than two thousand students. That’s an average of about two hundred graduates per year – with the majority being ‘Black Americans.’
The school, barbering and cosmetology, the two main professions where Blacks could always become successful entrepreneurs, were offered; continued to peer into the future by tackling and taking head-on the premise of a national shortage of computer technicians or technology workers. The Government Educational Grant of $2.8 million federal dollars was received by Berean to offset the danger to the economy. Ney-sayers accused the government of allowing foreigners to come into the country for those American Jobs – the open computer industry tech vacancies.
“We got this grant to try to offset that, so companies can’t keep saying, ‘we’ve got to go overseas.’ We have many needy people (and who are needed) right here in North Philly who can be trained to fill those jobs,” said Dr. Norman K. Spencer.

The Berean Institute facility has also played host to a number of community affairs and a meeting place as well as being a place of educational upgrading. The Million Woman March was germinated here in 1997. Additionally, other Philadelphia chapters of alumni groups, Historical Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU’s) have utilized the facility for their activities and affairs.
Where is this significantly needed institution now? What has happened to this sorely missed and needed Black College? Was its demise simply greed and corruption or some politically motivated ingenuity?

In Philadelphia, republicans (media reporting records) are outnumbered nine to one, and African American Republicans are outnumbered by a ratio that’s too ridiculous to bother mentioning.

That doesn’t mean Black Republicans don’t exist. Here in ‘Philly,’ there is a group called ‘The Philadelphia Republicans of Color (the Philly ROC). Believe it or not, some African American candidates do run for political office in this city – as Republicans.
“Philly’s Black Republicans are often scorned by both political constituencies,” said a weekly Philadelphia newspaper. “Whenever the white republicans wanted to post a Black face in opposition of Our Sitting President – ‘Obama’ – they were always lead around like they were dogs, like puppets on a string. They were portrayed as controllable window dressing.”

“The democratic party must be defined by what it stands for,” shouts Brother Al Sharpton. “Too many centrist democrats have moved the party to the right. As demonstrated by the past and recent elections. The base of the democratic party has felt abandoned by the many – so-called minorities, women, progressives, and young people.”
Brother Al was one of nine 2004 presidential candidates who happened to be Black. Another candidate of color was a female. Her name is Sister Carol Moseley Braun. She and Brother Al were some of George Bush Jr.’s harshest critics.
“The Bush Administration has been a disaster – Americans have lost and continue to lose jobs. Many are without healthcare, and the republican president has given massive tax cuts to the richest one percent in our society,” says Braun.
Reparations are likely to be addressed by these two African American Candidates. Carol Moseley Braun states her support for reparations. She says it should not be forty acres and a Lexus, but a program that brings Americans together to resolve the nation’s contradictions between the society’s commitment to equality, opportunity, and how so-called minorities are actually treated.
“Education is the silver bullet; we need to rebuild crumbling schools!”

Brother Al addressed an agenda that was apparently forgotten by the republican lead team – public education. Sharpton proposed a two dollar an hour increase in the country’s minimum wage debacle. He also says America should address the disparities in the criminal justice system, eliminate racial profiling, and to make sure that appointed judges on the bench are not insensitive to women and people of color.
“Too many political figures want to direct public resources to private education via the voucher system. We cannot afford to write off the majority of America’s children. And I would have a foreign policy that recognizes that we, Black People, are part of the global village – whether you want us or not! America should be an international healer not a bully,” says Sharpton.

Carol Moseley Braun’s credentials include a law degree, a term in the US Senate, and was ambassador to New Zealand. She was the only former diplomat in the presidential race that year. Carol’s experience, in addition to the aforementioned, also show that she served as a State Representative and the Cook County Recorder of Deeds – she was the only candidate who proudly served both levels of government; local and state.

Al Sharpton was the only candidate who has never held public office. His contentions are that his leadership skills are far from lacking.

Al’s plan is to connect with the people. The candidate has spent many weeks on the road pushing his agenda. He has gone to college campuses, churches, grass-root communities, and to the streets. He said “That’s where the people are!”

“Do you really think that Black folk would struggle through slavery, carrying bags, talking about ‘we shall overcome’ and all those kinds of things; that a little voter ID issue would have actually stopped us from registering for the vote? Only a fool would think that Black folks wouldn’t go out and do what they need to do when they think their rights have been threatened!” says a Black Philadelphia Republican.

“We (Black Republicans) love President Obama! We, at least I, think it was great that he’s an African American person who has made it to the level of being recognized as being the First Black President.”
Another Black Philadelphia Republican rationalized what Paul Ryan mouthed during an interview while campaigning for vice-president.
“I think it’s cool that we have our first African American Presidential candidate.”
If one can or could believe in that sincerity, ‘Willie Lynch’ would make a great candidate too.

A third Black Republican told of how he caught all kinds of negativity for broadcasting his respect for the then candidate; President Obama!
He said that he had to go off and checkmate just about everybody in the building.
“Did they think that they could actually tell me how to think? We believe in politics and we believe in our platform, but let’s keep in mind that we’re all part of the human race and we’re all Americans, and Obama is our Commander-in-Chief!”

One of the three interviewed Black Republicans thought republicans should do what Malcolm X did. That exercise is to go out into the field and rap to the people. He added, if Malcolm were here today, he’d probably say go out into the field and rap with the people.
“Ya know…we as Republicans have to stop that… We have to speak with the people and not to them or at them. I hear a lot of people in the Tea Party say they don’t understand why (so-called) minorities don’t become republicans. Did anyone question the fact that Martin Luther King was a Republican? No one cares!
Half of em don’t even know about that. I don’t believe they actually care either. Folks are tired of white republicans talking from D. C. and Harrisburg while not even bothering to go to the neighborhoods and speak with the people.
It should be very important that republicans focus on recruiting and speaking with our neighbors and getting the word out. The other thing is the need to show up at the community meetings. They don’t see us in the neighborhoods, we don’t exist there.
And we as African Americans need to understand that we’re dominant in many of the world’s major sporting competitions and the music industry. What is not understood is why we have an open door opportunity in this city to take over a political party – we just sit and cuss and fuss to deaf ears.

The Republican Party needs to understand that the demographic sands are shifting very quickly right under our feet. And it is highly possible this party will cease to exist by 2016.
Republicans need to become more sophisticated. We are no longer working on a local, state, or national platform. We are working now toward a global economy.
The Party has by-passed the Black Community and gone straight to Latino’s, knowing the Hispanic Population has increased drastically and continues to grow.
Republicans feel that Blacks are so indoctrinated with the Democratic Party for so many years, they’re a lost cause and they’d have a better chance with the Spanish population because they are not so ingrained.”

Another spin from Republicans is the worry concerning Blacks in the Democratic Party using a famous named person on the ballot, while a bad incumbent who hasn’t done anything outside or from inside an official political position, hides behind the so-called famous person on the ballot. The premise is that we’re going to go in and vote for everyone on this list because our so-called famous person is on here as well.
These are some of the reasons that we as Black Entrepreneurs have become Republicans. We tell people to stop hitting the one lever; the straight lever, voting for the entire list. We don’t want our people to be duped of hoodwinked either by Democrats of Republicans.
“An excellent opportunity has presented itself for the Republican Party. However, they have not taken advantage of it because we are Black,” said another Philly Party member of color.
“We are not acknowledged as much as we should be – we’re put on the side until needed – and that needs to stop.”

Many Black Philadelphians have never met a Republican in the first place, let alone a Black one. Republicans have traditionally been demonized in many Black households. One of the Black Republicans related his first experience in South Philly’s Wharton Street Center. He painted a vivid picture of his first contact while chairing a community based board at the center.
The Wharton Street Community Center has an historic and proudly rich history relating to Abolition, Quakers, and Slavery – according to the chairman, back in 1982 a lady came up to him and asked if he’d like to make history. She said they wanted to hold a meeting of Black Republicans at the center for the first time. The chairman, then a Democrat, was set aback.
“A Black Republican” I had never seen or heard of a Black Republican!

He itched with the curiosity and enthusiasm of seeing and meeting a one. He did not even ask them for rent money. He just wanted to see if these particular human beings existed. He said that he was surprised at how many actually showed up.
“I was stunned and flabbergasted! I sat in the back of the room because I was a Democrat. The gentlemen who entered the hall were very well dressed, mannerly, and neat. They were not drunkards or ‘Uncle-Tom-ish’ either. They just appeared to be well-to-do regular Black Men preparing for a community Town Hall Meeting.
Then, in walks this tall light-skinned Black Man. He was very well dressed in a bright yellow satin shirt, silk tie of gold, and a beautiful maroon colored semi-pin-striped suit. He was followed by neatly dressed happy faced rotund white guy. They stepped right in front of the group and announced the disbanding of this meeting.” The Chairman continued his story.
“The two men were local Republican Party Officials. They said to everyone present ‘you’re not having a meeting her tonight’ – I was shocked – ‘you all don’t have the proper permission to do so.’ The next thing I knew, the group got up and left the building without comment or complaint.
That’s when I said to myself, they need someone like me in there. That was my first contact with the Republican Party – on the Black side.”
The third Black Philly Republican expressed his first-hand experience.
“We had to go to the state party on three different occasions. It started for me then. It was 2010 when I ran for governor. My position was:
“If you have a complete compliment of other candidates listed on the Republican Website, we, the Black Candidates ought to be listed there as well!” expressed the Philadelphian.
“After the first 2010 episode, I switched from being a Republican to an Independent. The following year, I converted back to Republican because it was where I felt comfortable. Becoming an Independent has proven to be a very lonely experience.
In 2012, I was asked to run for the second Congressional Seat. After I relinquished the run, and agreed with them to do so for the US Senate Race. In reality, I understood that I didn’t stand a chance in hell of winning.
In order to help the Party, the best thing that I could do for the Black Republicans was to run for the seat and raise the profile of the party – even in the face of the United States President.
My campaign allowed a strategic decision to oppose the repeal of the Affordable Care Act. When that was done…all hell broke loose and everybody went ape-shit crazy. All of the Republicans, the Tea Party, etc., were going behind our back, saying that I’ve decided to drop out of the race; they recruited another candidate. I was called “RINO” by the Tea Party. They said that I was un-American, I was anti-American, and pro Obama.

Back in the 1970’s, I was asked to join ’The Junior Police’ by a back-in-the-day politician. He suggested that if we, my ‘Homies’ and me, supported his campaign; would be able to go into the police academy; and when we graduated we could look forward to sitting and working behind a desk until we turn twenty-one.

In Pennsylvania, back then, you weren’t allowed a gun until age twenty-one.

The bastard, after the election, turned right around, and every Black person who helped him by running him around in and throughout the neighborhoods, introducing him, bringing him into the Black Churches and all…screwed us in every way possible! I could not, for the life of me, understand why. I wasn’t particularly politically savvy back then. But I finally did figure it all out and finally got it. Someone was decent enough to ‘Hep’ me to what it was he did. He threw us to the side; under the bus; out onto the street; in the garbage – we had suddenly become a load of shit; taboo, refuse, the discarded shredding. This is the problem I had with the Republican Party!
They wanted to use, and use us again, and again. And once they did that and got what they needed from us, it was to hell with you and your kind – not caring or thinking about tomorrow or the future for that matter.”

The Eldest participant in this discussion stood up and walked over to a nearby window. The glazed look upon his face brought an abrupt, yet insidious disposition when he espoused a bitter memory.
“We all have to remember, up until the 1940’s; African Americans weren’t allowed into a general hospital in any given city, town, or borough in the country. We had to go strictly to a Black only hospital or get delivered by a midwife. If the midwife didn’t keep any treatment, birth, or death records, you didn’t have a record of birth. Fifty percent of Black Senior Citizens living today do not have a real or original certificate of birth. Many simply didn’t know where their birth certificates were. Republicans counted on that when they proposed the ‘Voter ID Act. If you can remember, in 1956, the Hall of Records in Philly caught fire and was burned to the ground. Of course, the fire destroyed a whole bunch of people’s birth records. So how is the Voter ID law supposed to be fair to those people?”

The second of the three interviewed Black Republicans stated if the Republicans had come to us, any of us – and said:
“We want you to help us defeat this Democratic President. The color of his skin doesn’t matter.” He stood up from his chair with a smirking smile upon his face and continued speaking.

“We’d have responded – ‘At this particular time, going against President Obama, a Black Man – I think you’d better think again.’” He continued speaking after re-seating. “What they did was not include us or anybody in their decision making – to not even ask us what we think or thought!
When it came to pass, we…I laughed. I laughed at what they’d done with the Voter ID Law because in knew that Black Folk are primarily moved by emotion. But, when you think you’re going to take something from Black Folk, that’s when we become your worst nightmare. I knew we were going to be a nightmare to Republicans because only a fool would think that Black Folks wouldn’t go out and do what they needed to do when they think their rights and liberties are being threatened – that was surely the dumbest of moves.”

All three interviewees agreed. The second Black Republican Party Member chimed, “That’s one of the reason’s I try not to disrespect the Commander-In-Chief by referring to the ‘Affordable Care Act’ as “Obamacare!” It is not Obama Care! Republicans have told me ‘we’re not voting for you because you don’t stand for the repeal of the Affordable Care Act!’
Well, don’t vote me – idiot!
They are contradicting themselves by chastising Chairman Harris for making a comment about respecting the ‘First African American President of The United States.’ First of all, you need to understand, most of my heroes do not appear on a damn stamp. If you really want to know – in reality, W.E.B. Dubois and Frederick Douglas were the ultimate Republicans!
Now what is a Republican?
If I had to distinguish myself between a Frederick Douglas Republican and a Reagan Republican, one could firmly believe the choice would be a Frederick Douglas Republican!”

My way or the highway?

It’s okay to be a Republican or a Democrat without compromises. But you need to come to the table – the art of legislation is about compromise – not the ability of receiving rewards for contempt and complete stupidity. Will you not exercise your right of choice and vote for the best candidate that you see fit?

We shall see…

PreGraduation Photo 4 2004

What is a Democrat, a Republican, or a Statesman?

Politics:
The art and science of the government of a state – public affairs of public life as they relate to this – the opinions, principles, or policies by which a person orders his participation in such affairs – scheming and maneuvering within a group.

A Politician:
A person engaged in politics and in the techniques of civil government – in a derogatory sense – a person engaged in politics (is) merely for personal gain.

A Republican:
a) A Republic is a form of government in which the head of state is an elected president rather than a monarch; a form of government in which the sovereign power is widely vested in the people either directly or through elected representatives; a state with either of these forms a government; a society whose members are equally engaged in the same activity, the republic or letters. (publicus; public)

b) A Republican is pertaining to, characteristics of or having the nature of a republic; favoring a republic – republican of or belonging to the Republican Party; a person who supports the form of government of a Republic Republican, a member of the Republican Party.

The Republican Party:
One of the two main political parties of the U.S.A. (cf. Democratic Party). It was formed (1854) by anti-slavery groups to oppose the Kansas-Nebraska Act, and attracted many ‘Whigs,’ ‘Free-Soilers’ and those ‘Know-nothings’ who opposed slavery.
It rapidly gained power in the north and held its first National Convention in 1856. Lincoln became the first Republican President in 1861. The Republicans held the presidency from then until 1913, with the exception of the administrations of 1885-89 and 1893-97 of Cleveland.
They were weakened by the secession of the Liberal Republicans 1872 and the ‘Mugwumps’ in 1884.
In the late 19th century the Republican Party favored ‘Protective Tariffs’ and the ‘Gold Standard.’ After the administrations of Theodore Roosevelt and Taft (Taft-Hartley Act), the secession of the ‘Progressive Party’ split the Republicans 1912. They returned to power in 1921-23 under Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover, but were blamed for the economic crisis of 1929 and were out of office until the administration of Eisenhower, 1953-61.

A Democrat:
a) Democracy is a form of government by the people, usually through elected representatives; a state so governed; social equality democracy, the principles of the Democratic Party.

b) A Democrat is someone who believes in Democracy; Democrat – a member of the Democratic Party; Democratic pertaining to, characterized by, believing in, or practicing the principles of, political Democracy – Egalitarian – Democratic of or belonging to the Democratic Party.

The Democratic Party:
One of the two main political parties of the U.S.A. (cf. Republican Party). Its origins are traditionally linked with Jefferson’s Anti-Federalists who supported state’s rights and the interests of workers and small farmers.
The party too it’s present name and developed its organization during the presidency of 1829-37 of Jackson.
The Democrats won all presidential elections except three in the period of 1800-1860. They were split in 1854 over slavery, became associated with the ‘Slave-owning South,’ and were out of office after the Civil War.
Campaigning for lower Tariffs, they were again in power 1885-89 and 1893-97 under Cleveland, and 1913-21 under Woodrow Wilson. Under Franklin D. Roosevelt 1933-45, the Democrats were identified as the ‘Reform Party’ with the new deal. They remained in office until 1953, and regained the presidency in 1961, but lost in again in 1968.

A Statesman:
A person having a large degree of responsibility in the government of state. Such a person when characterized by wisdom and broadmindedness – Statesmanlike; The characteristics of “A WISE STATESMAN!”

 

Til Next Time…

 

Reference(s) and Acknowledgements:
Black Enterprise Magazine, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Philadelphia Weekly, Dictionary.com, and BoulwareEnterprises

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Remember the Massive Fire at the Philadelphia Zoo?
At 12:40 a.m. Sunday, the guards returned and found flames on the roof. Fire and zoo officials pinned the blaze on an electrical…
Pg. 63 – ‘FAIRMOUNT’ – Terror in The Park!

“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals
“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

“The Un-Obscure”

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‘The Triplets and One’

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“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence Comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012
By
Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware (Author)

A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

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ASIAN VOICES
NHK website.
Sep. 4, Thu.
Hong Kong on the Brink

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~ The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous – ‘Ajantala’ ~ http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2014/09/30/the-acrimonious-gauche-and-incongruous-ajantala/

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‘The One Thing I Know Is…’

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The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous

‘Ajantala’

satan_inhell_9.29.14

By

Gregory V. Boulware

“Religion is the sign of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions.

It is the opium of the people

~Karl Marx~

~”It is Glorious – This History of Ours”~

~Langston Hughes~

A surgeon is a doctor who operates on people is a quote from an author who wrote of a physician born in 1858. He died in 1931. The man as a boy dreamed of becoming a doctor.

One day while playing together, he and his sister decided to play hospital.

“You be the doctor and I’ll be the nurse,” she said. After playing together for a long while, he said aloud, “Maybe I’ll be a real doctor someday. I like to help people.”

It was raining that day. They had to play inside. The time spent after play, allowed for thought time.

“Is that really what you want to be when you grow up, Danny?”

‘Danny,’ Daniel Hale Williams discussed the possible endeavor many times. When old enough, he worked hard to earn money to attend college to become a doctor.

Everyone was proud of ‘Dr. Dan.’ His placement in the much desired environment saved many lives. One day, a badly injured man entered the hospital where he worked. He was in extreme distress. Dr. Dan operated on his heart and saved his life.

The president of the United States asked him to come to Washington, D. C. and teach his techniques to other doctors. President Grover Cleveland was very proud of Dr. Daniel Hale Williams of Hollidaysville, Pennsylvania.

He became a surgeon at Provident Hospital in Chicago. The man with the heart problem was stabbed. Everyone thought the man would surely die. That is, everyone except Dr. Dan. It was found that the man was still bleeding internally. Dr. Dan opened the wound and found that the man had been stabbed in the heart. There was a hole in the man’s heart that was causing the bleeding. Dr. Dan decided to try to save him. He operated and saved him…he operated and sewed up the knife wound in the man’s heart. He then replaced the heart with its own walls while it continued beating. The operation required great skill, great daring, and a great doctor. The Black Man, who happened to be a master surgeon, sewed up the wound in the man’s heart, thus becoming the first successful operation on ‘Open Heart Surgery.’

Dr. Dan was offered the position as head of ‘Freeman Hospital.’ He held that position from 1894 to 1898 when he returned to Chicago and private practice. He also continued practicing at ‘Cook County and Saint Luke’s Hospitals until his death in 1931. Dr. Dan was also elected a fellow of ‘The American College of Surgeons in 1913. This was a great honor. He is regarded as one of America’s greatest physicians.

~”This History of Ours – It is Glorious”~

The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous

‘AJANTALA’

Another version of the legend as suggested by

‘DO Fagunwa’ from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

A most noxious intruder, aka, a guest, named:

‘Ajantala’ was born in a Nigerian Village. “A hunter once lived in this village,” writes Amos Tutuola, “who had a wife.” Mr. Tutuola’s version of this story is included within a group of poems, essays, and stories from ‘Senegal’ to ‘Capetown’ by Brother Langston Hughes’, ‘An African Treasury.’

While she was pregnant, old people of the village warned him. They told him to “stop killing the bush animals. If you continue to do so, you will kill the baby that your wife is soon to deliver. When it is time, she will deliver a terrible creature in the form of a baby, but it will not be a baby.”

After the people had gone back to their houses, the hunter replied, “That is pure superstition.”

Other hunters did entirely stop killing animals until after their wives had delivered so that they might not kill their wives’ babies who possibly had changed to the form of bush animals and after that gone to the bush.

When the hunter’s wives’ time had come, she delivered a male baby.

“I will not keep here long before I go back to Heaven! Ha! Ha! Ha! This is how the world is! What did I come here for? I thought this world would be as beautiful as Heaven, from where I came! Look at everything. How it is very dirty! Of course, I will not keep long before I go back to Heaven!” exclaimed the baby immediately after coming down from his mother’s womb.

Having said that, he stood up from the blood and walked with trembling feet around his mother’s room.

“Ha! Look at this ‘Baby,’ standing here and walking all at the same time He is born!” The people all exclaimed with embarrassment. “Heigh! I’ve never seen a woman give birth to such a terrible baby as this one!” screamed the suffering woman.

And when he took the soap and sponge and washed from himself all the blood and goo away from his body, he wrapped himself in an article of clothing owned by his mother. He then sat upright atop a high stool and looked at the people. He looked into everyone’s eyes with his ungrateful red eyes.

“Ha! I am badly hungry for food. What can I eat now?” He then started to sniff the sweet smell of food which was inside the room nearest his mother’s room.

“Yes, I am glad, I shall get better food from this room; I’d better go in now.”

The room was filled with guests of the homes’ owner. He did not care. Without bearing fear of all the people and their wonder and surprised filled eyes, he stood up and entered the room. He ate all of the food. Food that was intended for thirty-five people or more. After that he kicked all of the pots, pans, dishes, and plates from the table. They shattered upon contact with the walls and floor. They shattered into hundreds of pieces. He then came out and sat down in the middle of the people who were looking on with withered hands and lips.

“Good evening to you good mother of this newly born baby! Thanks be to God who has helped you deliver him safely. We hope you have not any complaint after its birth?” The people of the village, craven as they were, were not thoroughly foolish, they knew when and to whom homage is paid. Hearing the news of the birth, they came to greet the mother and to see how the baby was.

“There is not any complaint at all and thanks be to God for that!” replied the unhappy mother.

“Without a doubt, this is not a real baby but a spirit of one of the animals which his father, the hunter, had killed.”

The people were saying so on their way when returning to their homes.

In the morning of the seventh day that he was born, several old people gathered in his father’s parlor, just to give him a name. This must be done even though he was terribly evil.

Then he walked into the place of worship and sat himself down in the middle of the people, and he was looking into everyone’s eyes as they were praying.

“Long live the baby, and may he – .”

But to their horror, when they were about to announce the name which his father, the hunter, wished the old ones to name him, the baby himself announced very loudly and clearly to the masses, “My name is ‘Ajantala,’ the Shrine, the Rock from Heaven, and there is no need to give me another!”

The people sighed and mumbled with anger, fear, and wonder. Then the kolas, honey, a large quantity of alligator pepper and drinks of palm, rice, guinea, plantation, corn wine, and plenty of bitter kolas were brought before the people in the spirit of celebration. For all these were served at the naming ceremony.

But when they were about to start to eat the food and drink the kolas, Ajantala unexpectedly jumped up high and pierced one of the people with a sharp iron spike. And when he turned to stab another, before he was pierced like the first, he was successful in escaping through the door as did the rest of the party. All of the people had rushed to the outside. All were running away as fast as they could. He then chased them for a short distance before returning to the house.

“There is no wonder, no doubt this baby! It must be the terrible spirit of a wild animal. Of course we forewarned his father to stop killing animals, except after his wife had delivered her baby. But he did not heed our warning; he refused to listen to those who know – the old ones. Now this is the result of his ignorance and insolent behavior.” Said the people of the village.

“Oh yes! This is a thick long stick.” Ajantala took it from the ground and slammed the door behind him. He then began to flog his father and the rest of the family with the stick severely. The rest of the family had no idea of the time when they forced open the door and ran away. He did not touch his mother.

“What more is there to do? Yes, there are still many things to do.”

Remembering what the next thing to do was, he took and ax and started to chop down the wall.

“Ha! Stop that,” his mother shouted.

“Oh! Defiant are you bitch? I see that this means that you have no sense either, you’re in need of a lesson too! All right, I will teach you some good sense now as I have taught all the others.” And then he gave his mother seven slaps across her face. She was flabbergasted.

“Aha! Ajantala, you are an evil and cruel boy, and you are slapping your mother,” exclaimed a man who stood witness to the incident from outside the house.

Before the man could finish saying what he was espousing, Ajantala let his mother be and jumped over and across the veranda railing to the outside and gave the man seven slaps across his face.

“Hai! Ajantala, stop that!” exclaimed another man standing near and witnessing the same as the man before him. He was appalled at the wicked deeds of this foul and cruel boy and his awful deeds. But to everyone’s chagrin, as soon as the man said Hai! His mouth was split and cut open nearly to the nape of his neck and hairline. The man fell back in pain, horror, and silence. He was very fearful that this devil of a boy would surely kill him if he uttered another word.

Now, Ajantala became so fearful that all of the people of the village shunned him and avoided going near his fathers’ house. His nother had nearly died from all the trouble caused by this twisted image of a sweet boy.

This world is NOT OUR HOME – WE ARE ONLY TENANTS – WE ARE HERE TEMPORARILY!

“But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord, OUR GOD (Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jew, Buddhist, and any other so-called religious denomination) lives.” (Philippians 3:20)

At last, one morning, she took Ajantala to a very far bush. She gave him plenty of the sweet fruits to eat.

“Please Ajantala, stand near this tree and wait there until I come back for you. Do not worry, I shall return for you before too long and take you home to the village. For I am going farther into the bush to fetch our food for the dinner repast. Tricking and lying to him, she left him there and went back to the village alone.

“Where is Ajantala?” his father softly asked for fear of being overheard by his son.

“I have left that terrible boy in the bush.”

“And he agreed to stay there?” the father asked in wonder.

“Yes, he agreed, by trick and treason.” the mother responded smiling.

“I thank you for that. You see, it is indeed truly helpful sometimes to pay heed to the warnings of the old ones, for they are the wisest and most knowledgeable of all.”

“What do you mean by saying so, my dear?” his wife calmly asked.

“The meaning is that several old people did warn me to stop killing bush animals while we were pregnant. And Ajantala is the end result of my not listening and learning from them. I do believe he is one of the animals which I had killed during the period of our pregnancy.”

“Ho-o-o-o! No wonder things have happened the way that they did!” The wife now knew the reason why Ajantala was acting the way he did and then she too believed that he was truly not a human being but a demon from hell though he claimed to come from Heaven.

After Ajantala had waited, waited, and waited for quite a long, long time under the shady tree, which his mother did not return for him. It was dark now. And then it was morning again before he started to travel and wander about. He did travel and wander all about the land until he came upon a small house that was built in the heart of the bush. A corn farm surrounded the house, and both, the house and farm belonged to three brothers. Their names were Mr. Lion, Monkey, and Goat who was the eldest. There were human beings in those days. The two species did learn to live and dwell in harmony. The three brothers resided comfortably in that small house, in the middle of the bush with comfort and tranquility.

“Good day to you sirs,” said Ajantala, walking zigzag into the house, saluting the three family members who sat there enjoying their leisure hours.

“Hello and good day to you too, boy!” Mr. Goat replied, returning the salutation while the others simply looked at Ajantala, expecting him to say what they thought he would say. He appeared to be well spent and void of intrepidness.

“I am a wayfarer who cannot reach his destination today and probably not for two or three weeks more. Therefore, I would beseech thee to allow me to rest. I shall be grateful and indeed obliged if you will allow me to stay here with you as a guest for a few days. I will continue my journey after that, after I have rested.” Ajantala asked for this obligation humbly with all due respect, as if he were a good boy. A charlatan, he would have them think and believe that is the case.

“Of course, we may have mercy on you to let you stay with us for the few days you request. You are very young and weary,” said Mr. Goat on behalf of the rest.

“Many and all thanks be unto you kind sirs, and God!” Ajantala postulated.

So he was allowed to stay with them. He was eating and doing everything with them.

Having seen this luxurious living, a few days later, Ajantala asked, “Please, sirs, I would like to discontinue my journey and become a servant to you. I shall be complying with all of your demands, requests, and orders from this moment on,” and the three brothers agreed.

The following morning, Ajantala followed Mr. Goat to the farm to fetch their food. Having collected plenty of fruits and placed into the basket, Mr. Goat told Ajantala to carry it.

“Oh, what did you say Mr. Goat?” And Mr. Goat repeated what he told him to do.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Is that what you mean for me to do? Be your slave and to do your selfish bidding at your command? Well, alright, I shall teach you a lesson that you’ll not soon forget – I’ll teach you some good sense right now! Mr. Goat looked at him intently. He had no feat of him albeit; he didn’t like the look in his eyes. He knew that Ajantala was too small to cause him any harm.

“Happa, Humpa, Dumpa,” Ajantala sang as he walked like a crab for a short distance. He came back with a handful of dirt and threw it into the eyes of Mr. Goat. As he staggered back and fumbled about for help, Ajantala struck him on the forehead with a heavy stone. And then Mr. Goat fell down. A large quantity of blood was dripping down from the wound on his head. After a few minutes, Ajantala provided Mr. Goat with a helping hand from the floor. After helping him to his to a standing position, he then placed the filled basket on the head of the goat.

As they traveled along the road, on the way back to the house, Ajantala warned and threatened Mr. Goat not to tell a living soul about what happened to him on the farm. Reluctantly, the goat agreed, otherwise he would harm him more severely.

“Ah! Mr. Goat, what has happened to your head and eyes?” asked the rest of the family when they entered the house.

“It was a big stone that fell upon me,” he replied.

The following day, it was Mr. Monkey’s turn to go and the same done to him. And so too did he to Mr. Lion in tandem. All this happened to them at the farm and returned home to the small house in the heart of the bush.

Over time, these three brothers grew tired and was fed up with the living conditions bestowed upon them by Ajantala. He was too terrible and powerful for them.

One night, when Ajantala had gone to bed, they did not know that he never fell asleep. First, Mr. Goat said, “I am afraid, Ajantala is a noxious guest, and if we don’t find a way to escape from him, one day he will kill us all.”

“Certainly, he will kill all of us one day,” Mr. Goat added.

“But I suggest that the better thing to do now is to pack all of our belongings and leave this house tomorrow morning. I am sure before we go, he will not wake, and we shall go far to a place that he will not be able to follow or trace us,” Mr. Lion quietly suggested.

“Yes, you are right, Mr. Lion, and it will be better if we pack our belongings and food into some baskets now. And by five o’clock in the morning leave here and never look back,” said the other two. At the same time, they packed all their belongings into two baskets and put plenty of food in as well. This would serve as fuel and nourishment along the way.

Having done that, they went to bed and slept. But Ajantala heard every word…all of their discussions and plans. He stood up cautiously and began to wrap himself with dried bread leaves and put himself in one of the baskets, well hidden at the bottom under the food.

By five o’clock, the three brothers woke up. Then Mr. Goat put one of the baskets on his head and Mr. Monkey carried the other. They all left the house under cover of darkness, early this morning. They thought that they have saved themselves from Ajantala who was hiding in the basket carried by Mr. Goat.

Having traveled for many miles, they came to a shady tree and stopped to rest under it for a few minutes.

~Think the devil knows how to divide and conquer, knows more about you than you? Remember from whence he came… Remember his hatred of and for all mankind. He was there before you…~

“Eh! We have left our lovely house and home today and Ajantala will occupy it,” painfully said by Mr. Lion.

“Were you not the one who had agreed to Ajantala staying with us? Said Mr. Monkey.

“Yes, you are the one, Mr. Lion,” added Mr. Goat

“Ha! I was not the one, but Mr. Goat was the one who agreed,” denied Mr. Lion.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! It wasn’t me at all – not me! You were the one Mr. Lion,” exclaimed Mr. Goat.

“Shut up there, Mr. Goat, I am quite sure that you were the one,” roared Mr. Lion.

“Ha! Ha! Don’t tell lies against me, Mr. Lion.”

“I say shut up your mouth and if you don’t admit right now that you were the one, I will kill you and eat your whole body at once, especially this moment that I badly hunger for some meat to eat,” Mr. Lion roared again.

“All right, if I were the one, who had approved Ajantala’s request to be with us, let this ground on which we stand now split and then swallow me. But if I were not the one, let something bring Ajantala to us now and scatter all of us to the four corners of the Earth.

Mr. Goat had hardly finished his curse when Ajantala suddenly and viciously jumped out of the basket. He held a sharp and wide blade in his right hand. They could not even glance at him when they scattered to the different ways, fearfully throughout the world.

Mr. Lion’s descendants scattered throughout the woods and forests of the world while the offspring of Mr. Monkey climbed and remained in the trees above. Mr. Goat and his descendants went back to the farm and sold themselves into a domesticated life much like the other animals of the barnyard owned by human beings from that day on.

“Let the workers do as they will…let those in the depths use force and do wrong, so that we can be justified in using force against them…behold a New World Order!”

And it was from that day they became the enemies of themselves and that was the reason the lion is killing the goat and the monkey whenever it sees one of both for the lie they had told against him in the past.

People of The Book.Map_1.30.14

Thus Ajantala was very successful in separating the three brothers and the rest of the occupants of the wonderful and abundant Planet Earth.

“Why is it so-called educated people do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

…In conflict with good and evil; the fight between man and the devil; the eternal struggle of human nature against sin:

The Talmud, The Qur’an, The Holy Bible – Translated from Egyptian / Arabic to Ethiopia…Abel – Luluwa, Cain – Aklia and Seth, children of Adam and Eve…

In the beginning there was nothing…Temptation led to Sin.

Cast out of Eden, the metaphor, the story of Adam and Eve bore three sons:

Cain, Abel, and Seth, the beginning people of the Earth.

Cain killed Abel and fled to the East, where he was sheltered by a band of fallen angels; the Watchers!

These Watchers helped Cain’s descendants build a great and mighty industrial civilization. Cain’s cities spread like wild-fire and spread wickedness, devouring the world.

The Euclid:

Balance, Fairness, and Justice – “Things Equal to the Same Things, are Equal to Each Other!”

“Religion is the sign of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people”

~Karl Marx~

Til Next Time…

Acknowledgements:

Amos Tutuola

Welcome to 2013 at WFR.com

In “Weird Thoughts”

101 Weird Writers #34 — Amos Tutuola

In “101 Weird Writers”

Amos Tutuola: An Interview with Yinka Tutuola

In “Interviews”

http://weirdfictionreview.com/2013/01/ajantala-the-noxious-guest/

>

A-jan-ta

[uh-juhn-tuh]   Spell Syllables

noun

  1. a village in N Maharashtra, in W central India: caves and shrines containing Buddhist frescoes and sculptures.

Dictionary.com Unabridged

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Ajanta

>

Another original story by DO Fagunwa from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

Ajantala, the Noxious Guest

From Don’t Pay Bad for Bad & Other Stories

http://www.yorubaland.org/smf/index.php?topic=195.0

Ajantala

« on: August 17, 2008, 01:20:18 PM »

This is my translation of the original story by DO Fagunwa from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

The story is taken from my book How The World Was Created:

https://www.lulu.com/commerce/index.php?fBuyContent=3449284

From How The World Was Created:

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“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals  

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

 

“The Un-Obscure”

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‘The Triplets and One’

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/ http://thehebrew-israelitesandjapan.blogspot.com/ http://theessenceofinvasionandannihila.blogspot.com/ http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com

 

‘BookCrossing’

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“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012

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ASIAN VOICES

NHK website.

Sep. 4, Thu.

Hong Kong on the Brink

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SAPPHYRE

JASON KOMITO

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‘Black Cowboys’

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“Of Spirit and Faith”

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“As The Clock Turns”

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“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou?

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“NINETY and FIVE”

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“The Eye of Cain”

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“The Lost Tribes of Twelve and Yahveh the Father”

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“A Love Letter From Father – Genesis to Revelation”

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“The Awakening Dream”

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“Arc of the Prophet”

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“Amongst Us”

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“Seeker of Wisdom, Truth, and Justice: BEREAN”

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‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’

Contemplation

Contemplation

By

Gregory V. Boulware

Part Two: “The Wedding Party”

“We knew we were all doomed…all of us who knew.”

Abberline recalled the statement from one of several interviews with the six whores of ‘Cleveland Street’ in the ‘White Chapel District.’ The funeral of Martha Taibron brought them all to collusion. They needed to join forces for their very survival. They were constantly pursued by McQueen, the pimp of Nickel Street. He extorted money and sexual favors from the street walkers – ladies of the night.

“They were lured with grapes, champagne, and laudanum. And then they were all euthanized.” The inspector spoke in trance-like sentences. “They were transported and dumped.”

The inspector began interviewing professional men. He spoke with doctors, dentists, taxidermists, veterinarians, surgeons, barbers, and butchers to the disapproval, chagrin, and dismay of Scotland Yard High Officials.

“Foreigners are the culprits. They are the ones who are upsetting our economy – The Jews.”

The boasting neuro-surgeon showed pride amongst the gathering of Britain’s finest professional colleagues. This one…this Dr. Farrow, guardian to Sir William Gull; master surgeon and newly ordained member to ‘The Society and Brotherhood of Free Masons – an entity founded by Jews; glared at the inspector as he passed through the dining room of the Masonic Hall.

“It isn’t an Englishman,” said the Scotland Yard Commissioner. “Thank God.”

Dr. Farrow is the attending doctor to the Queen and the Royal Court.

When all had been exposed, the organ collecting masonic avenger lobotomized, the killings subsided. I felt that I was no longer watched by the brotherhood. Albeit, the feeling, the tense feeling of Dred overshadowed what was supposed to be peace. Inspector Abberline was once again summoned to duty. This new danger has shown its face with a sign written in blood.

To the dismay and embarrassment of Scotland Yard, Inspector Abberline did deliver the truth of the matter. He delivered a truth that Scotland Yard decided to disallow. It refused the inspector’s theory from the time he discovered the text. The text in the book was written by the founder of the ‘Free Masons.’

The blood printed sign was directed to the murder investigations by Scotland Yard personnel. The inspector dreaded answering the call. He sure as hell did not intend to go back through the ‘Gates of Hell.’ He fought against evil and won – even though it wasn’t sanctioned by the brotherhood or the royal house or his immediate supervisors.

But, answer the call he did…it was his duty to God and Country. Inspector Abberline arrived on the scene to see the sign first hand.

London Towns Chief Commissioner was there as well. There was a large contingent of reporters and photographers breezing all about as well.

On the wall, atop the freshly butchered corpse of Mary Kelly’s White Chapel mate…Martha Taibron. The blood-stained message was posted for all to see:

“The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing’

Abberline argued that the message was written by an educated man. The point was not unlike his investigation findings and determinations.

The higher echelon was well aware of what was done to hide and cover-up the guilt and shame as well as their association with the perpetrator. The guilt of the brotherhood and all its members, including the top commanders of Scotland Yard, and the royal house; they all knew about the secret wedding sanctioned by the Catholic Church and witnessed by the ‘Whores of the White Chapel District.’

The kidnapping of Annie Crook was intent to capture her and Baby Alice. The marriage and the baby posed a direct threat to the bloodline of Queen Victoria. She exploded with anger and ordered the illumination of the two.

“How dare my son marry this thing – this creature – this harlot – this streetwalker whore who is less than the lowest commoner!” The Queen delegated the task to the Lord Chamberlin. The order was then given to Sir William Gull, ex-master neuro-surgeon, member of the Brotherhood, and in service to the Queen. This opportunity served well for the doctor’s alter ego and major organ removal, primarily the offending sexual organs of the streetwalking females of the night. Also entwined within the assignment awaited the open door sanction for revenge. The execution of traitors provided Sir William Gull with great pleasure. He hatched a sinister deed in executing the traitors to mankind and the sanctity of marriage – the abomination of fornication – the illumination of whores and prostitutes.

The assignment specifically called for the deaths of six whores from England’s White Chapel District on Cleveland Street.

The wedding party was of a private nature. Mary, Liz, Kate, Marie, Mitzi, Martha, and Anne Crook, the bride, were all present. They wore their best dresses while Anne was adorned in a brand new white wedding gown of the finest chiffon, silk, and satin. No expense was sparred. She was truly a lovely bride beneath veils of fine woven material and true love.

Prince Eddie donned his majestic white uniform of royalty. The pure silver and golden sashes with breast-pinned medals gleamed and flashed of blinding brilliance. He was accompanied by his most trusted and close assistants. These particular individuals were sworn to the greatest of secrecies. They were all loyal except for one of the most important members of royal service. Sir William Gull was succeeded by Dr. Allan Farrow who personally treated, attended, and reported directly to the Queen.

The head Priest of the Catholic Church presided over the ritual. Baby Alice was born soon after. The Prince and Anne were infatuated with one another. The sexual romance and interludes began at the White Chapel Brothel, run by a sinister, conniving, and snakely individual identified by police and colleagues as ‘McQueen.’

His position was one of ownership over the six whores in attendance. The seventh, Mary Kelly, would soon fall into the fold, one way or another. Mary was independent. She was beginning to succeed in convincing the other girls to stop paying McQueen for their non-existent protection and keep their hard earned earnings for themselves.

Eddie had become an exclusive client to Anne. She wanted for nothing and made sure to look after her sisters of the streets. McQueen had other plans for the women. The protection fees had just been increased. He also knew of the secret marriage.

“It’s in their best interest to pay me. If not, they will never work with their physical abilities again – and could possibly be found dead.”

The body was fresh. The gore of crimson was found just about everywhere in the alley. It pooled and puddled all about the body of the victim. The wounds were nearly invisible to the naked eye. Albeit, sliced with the utmost precision…the precision of a master surgeon. The organs were skillfully removed with no sign of brutal ravaging. Even the killing cut was a work of art.

…New York City was not very much unlike Paris. The hustle and bustle of the people mirrored many images of many busy cities across the globe. The rain poured and then misted accompanying a thick cloudy atmosphere. The smell of breakfast delicacies and strong rich coffee permeated the ‘Garment District’ this morning. Duprae and I strolled along 7th avenue just as the Sun poked rays above and over the horizon line and the top edges of buildings and the sparse spreading of greenery.

Chaunea insisted on a ‘walk-about’ just as soon as we could get settled. Our rooms were very cozy indeed. Cozy enough to meet our immediate needs. I meticulously hung my garments with care. We really didn’t know how long we would be visiting the island city. He wanted to familiarize himself with the everyday lifestyles of the city-folk in New York. He did the same thing in Philadelphia once. I recalled our chance meeting in Baltimore while planning the trip to Paris. Was our chance meeting in that obscure library really a chance meeting? I wondered while studying his current movements. The Inspector and I first met in Baltimore City. He’d taken the position of interest in my written works during my employ with one of several news and article agencies. The interest was aroused while perusing an article; one of many publications, concerning a black bird. His reason for the office visit was to place and advertisement in the newspaper of which I was employed.

The beneficial coincidence allowed he and I to become acquaintances…a kindred spirit of sorts. We did become very close friends and eventually, like brothers.

It was highly fascinating to learn, as time progressed, that Chaunea and I thought and felt very much alike. He of course is more advanced, sharper, and keener than I.

I’ve learned and continue to learn very much from him, especially in the art of deduction, rationalization, analyzation, reasoning, and patience.

The ballast and cobble stoned streets appeared and served as they did in the aforementioned metros. The rancid wetness of early morning garbage filled the cool breeze. It caused the sinuses to tingle and the nose to itch as the multi-collaboration of aromas urging face twitching annoyance.

We were not long departed from our sea-going vessel when our American journey got underway. We breakfasted at an eatery near the corner of 34th Street and 7th Avenue. Abberline was already finishing the morning news when we entered during his nearly completed nourishment.

After completing an enjoyable greeting and eating; allowing Abberline to finish his meal, the three of us headed towards the chief inspector’s Manhattan office at the nearby police headquarters.

We walked a few blocks on 34th Street to Amsterdam Avenue. The building was a rather handsome yet large ‘Brownstone’ with gated or bared windows on the ground floor level. We climbed the stairs to the second floor landing. Turning to the left at the end of the corridor was the inspector’s office. The center of the door was of hazy non-see-through glass. Printed on the outside was ‘Chief Inspector Abberline, Scotland Yard Investigations.’

Abberline was a tall yet thinly muscular man with long wavy black hair which surpassed his shirt collar. He combed it straight back. It hung in length to just above his shoulder. Many would consider him a handsome man. His apparel was not shabby, new, or top shelf; although neat and sharp in appearance, did not offend a normal eye.

The office atmosphere was brilliant and highly professional. It was fully equipped with all the latest gadgetry and literature. It also held the latest in communication, the telephone, and telegraph as well as a wireless.

The chief inspector stepped out from behind his desk with an extended his right palm, gesturing a handshake. We, as gentlemen and professionals, exchanged greetings and other pleasantries. Refreshments were offered and accepted as we made ourselves comfortable.

“Gentlemen, it brings me much pleasure to know the invitation to assist in this investigation has not been wasted.”

Queen Victoria ranted and raved. She threw her golden goblet across the room. It skidded off the gold-silver-and chrome laden table and hit the wall. The wall was painted ivory-white. The windows trimmed in shimmering brass, draped with silk and satin dressings on soft and dark pastels. The cop was filled with claret as it splashed all over. The chalice ended its flying and ricocheting journey after the wall by bouncing off the shoulder of a servant who simply passed by.

“We want them disposed of… We do not wish to know or care in which manner this thing is done. We want this matter dissolved and forgotten forthwith…or closer heads to thee, will surely serve instead.”

The first to disappear was the baby’s mother, ‘Anne Crooke.’ She was taken by ‘The Royal Secret Service Police’ while making love to the ‘Crown Prince.’ She had no idea it was ‘Prince Edward Albert Victor, the Duke of Clarence,’ and not simply ‘Albert’ whom she was atop; riding and writhing in quintessential rapture. Their combined effort of vigorous pumping up and down, lost in a sea of passion, had no clue of the impending assault. He caressed her naked flesh with pleasingly aggressive lust and the determination of fulfillment.

They hadn’t noticed the booming and thundering noises made by the invading usurpers of the White Chapel Brothel, of which their flat was located. Violently, pleasantly, engaged in the throes of sweet pleasure and passion, combined with that of pure love, the ex-harlot and the Duke did not hear the noise. The engagement was brutally and explosively interrupted when the bedroom door blew open and inward against the fast hold of the hinged frame. The door slammed against the papered wall as the fasteners within the wood splintered away from the wall that made every effort to hold. The abrupt action allowed the ingress of the horde to descend upon them, subduing them and separating them…forever.

The sexual fluids dripped all over the satin sheets as the ruffians ripped and pulled them apart. The burley men lifted the terrified Anne right up in a partially wrapped bed sheet, throwing her unclothed, down the stairs into the waiting arms of more darkly clad ruffians. They, in turn, carried her to the waiting carriage of black with six Black Stallions who kicked and whinnied to a full gallop. The mysterious escaping Black Carriage bore the royal markings of the majesty on its outer doors.

Prince Eddie, whom the local populace knew as ‘Albert’ or ‘Eddie’ was shocked and horrified. He was under the impression that he was the target of an assassination. Little did he know, the palace had known of his secreted rendezvous with the ex-whore for some time. She had become his exclusive concubine well before they were married; a wedding unknown to the Queen. Recent determinations, secretly discovered, were divulged to ‘Her-Majesty’ – Eddie was being treated for syphilis.

He was secretly taken to an undisclosed location. Anne was shuffled off to a nearby asylum, viciously interrogated, tortured, and finally lobotomized, ensuring the vile secret would remain a secret.

Fortunately, ‘Baby Alice’ was in the safe-keeping of Mary Kelly. She’d been left with Mary the night before. The following day presented the newly-weds with their six month wedding anniversary. Their daughter, Alice, was one year and eight days of age.

Arguments have been founded upon the fiction of truth. An investigation into said truth was quite possibly the objective to the point. Some have said that paralleling the inessential facts surrounding the murder of a young girl in New York as it relates to the double-murder in Paris, Madame L’Espanaye and the young mademoiselle, her daughter.

Abberline explained his departure from us in a brief manner to which he expelled our suspicions. He felt that our investigation was at a close in Paris while the threat carried itself across the waters into America; the facts addressing the murder of Miss Mary Cecelia Rogers.

Although the young woman’s death occasioned an intense and long enduring excitement, my journalistic intuition kept nudging me to not put trust in this inspector from Scotland Yard. He did not mention to the ‘Chevalier – Duprae,’ and me, his involvement of the coincidences surrounding the murder in Paris and the one in New York.

In my mind, I endeavored to depict some very remarkable features in the mental characters of my friend, ‘The Chevalier – Lord Charles ‘Chaunea’ Alexander Duprae.

The affair surrounding the deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter were placed on suspension. We could not dismiss the case due to its familiarity with this one in New York. Duprae’s concentration is now focused on the inspector and this case of ‘Mary Rogers,’ aka ‘Marie Roget.’

Before jumping head-first into the case, we decided to break from our mental meeting with ‘Chief Inspector Frederick Quincy Abberline’ of Sussex County in the Southeast of England. We felt that we deserved a much needed rest…a little ‘R and R;’ and maybe a little bit of debauchery and drink. The idea of smoking the plant was also entertained upon the undesired relapsing into old habits of moody revelry, I was found to be in a prone position nearly at all times during the dream-like binges; I do love the drink, love-making, and smoke; to abstraction. I really fell in with the humor; and continuing to occupy our chambers, we gave the future to the winds. We decided to slumber tranquilly in the present, weaving in and out dully around the world in dreams and allusion. We would take up the New York investigation soon after our mini-vacation; after all…Abberline in on the case.

Chaunea and I took a near drunken walk down Broadway. We sampled the area delicacies and needless to say, the beers and liquors as well. The neighboring taverns were cordial and amicable enough. I do believe that some of them, patrons and staff, did recognize us. Several recognized the famous detective via the newspapers and newsreel footage portrayed in the moving picture houses. The others who knew of me through my written works in magazines, newspapers, and periodicals. I dare say my printed image did me a great service as well.

“Welcome Monsieur Duprae, would you and Monsieur Poe like a quiet table in the rear or one close to the stage and show? The bar is also available for your convenience!”

The tavern was soft lit and full of people. The ‘Black Maître de’ seated us nicely into a cozy dark corner which allowed an excellent view of the stage and the entire establish as well.

The audience, primarily people of color from every continent imaginable, added an extra bit of flavor to our enchanted evening. The both of us do like an integrated crowd, made up of many different types of folk, cultures, and lifestyles. We both found that simply invigorating and fascinatingly wonderful. France and England had its fair share of the world’s populace, but not like here in the United States. The jazz music was unbelievable. It was magnifique and ever so delightful.

We must have spent the entire night here at the ‘Che De Lounge’ after our visit to the ‘Bamville.’ The same type of people gathered there as well. Chaunea enjoyed himself immensely. The bronze colored deva kept him upstairs for nearly two hours before rejoining me at our table.

We’d sampled many types of enjoyment this night. Our jumpstart of marijuana and bitters was topped off this morning with French Champagne, while the wine and cocaine flourished throughout the night. Chaunea did entertain the thought of visiting the ‘Chinese House of Pleasure.’ The address was supplied by the Chief Inspector. He swore us to secrecy when we parted for the evening.

“This is where I’ll be for a few hours – care to join me?” We both declined and shook our heads in unison while accepting the note for a possible visit later during our stay in the Americas. Chaunea talked himself out of the visit because he knew one hour could quite possibly turn into three days or more.

Just prior to sunrise, we did have our fill of pleasurable indulgences…it was time for sleep and rest before returning to work.

The singer on stage, as we prepared for our departure, was a petite ginger-brown woman with a masterfully overpowering groin for a singing voice. It was simply magnifying. The song she sang brought about memories of a story I once heard. Chaunea appeared to be in a recollective state of mind as well. The story brought memories of a not so long ago occurrence back in England – the ‘Family Talbot!’

The song she sung was mystifying yet entertainingly and eerily suggestive. It was more bluesy than that of jazz music. Its lyrics mesmerized us. The Chief Inspector also came to mind:

“I got early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets cause there’s a wolf outside my door.

The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes…gonna go to church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose…

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for the blues.

It’s raining cats and dogs outside, and I’m lookin for a job. The man I worked for laid me off; Lord, I worked for him real hard! But I won’t let my kids go hungry, no matter what I have ta do…

And it’s a good day; it’s a real good day for da blues.

I got up early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets, cause there’s a wolf outside my door. The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes, gonna go ta church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose.

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for da blues.”

The song’s lyrics seemed to stay with us on our short walking journey back to our hotel. For me, I kept seeing the sinister figure of the Chief Inspector, glaring from the darkened corner of the flat owned by ‘Madame L’Espanaye. The vision continually haunted me to no end…

We expected to be awakened by the charms of harmonious chatter and laughter. We looked forward to the sensual arousal of breakfast aromas dazzling our every senses to complement the happiness of the nostrils. It did not occur.

We were abruptly awakened by two burly New York City Cops. They were not smiling while we twitched and bitched about; tossing and turning in our beds.

Abberline was standing in a pool of blood. His gloved hands dripped twelve-hour-old gore. The right hand held a freshly lit cigarette… His face was ghostly white; bloodless.

End of Part Two…Next, Part Three: “The Changeling”

Til Next Time….

Acknowledgements:

Mr. ‘Eddie’ Poe (Edgar Allan Poe) and I, the 3rd Party Voice of the Editor/Publisher, Gregory V. Boulware

This story is based on and greatly inspired in whole or in part by Edgar Allen Poe, Master of the Macabre, ‘Murders In The Rue Morgue (Street)’and The Mystery of Marie Roget

The Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

ISBN 9780385074070 and notes from Bookrags.com, “He has ruined the old sound with the first letter” http://www.bookrags.com/notes/poe/part17.html

“From Hell,” ~Jack the Ripper~

http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/2014/05/bowery-of-crimson-frock-and-flesh.html

Wikipedia

Protestantism and Lutheran

Tags:

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“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

“The Un-Obscure”

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“FAIRMOUNT”

http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuylkill-eastfalls-son-twitter.html

‘The Triplets and One’

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/

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‘BookCrossing’

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“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012

By

Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware   (Author)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals/dp/1468190997/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top?ie=UTF8

A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

http://philadelphiastoryeller.blogspot.com/

ASIAN VOICES

NHK website.

Sep. 4, Thu.

Hong Kong on the Brink

http://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/english/tv/asianvoices/archives201408230300.html


/*

Is Hong Kong on the Brink of Unrest?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

By

Gregory V. Boulware

 “When law becomes a science and a system, it ceases to be justice. The errors, into which a blind devotion to principles of classification has led the common law, will be seen by observing how often the legislation has been obligated to come forward to restore the equity its scheme had lost.”

~Landor~

‘The Jurisprudence of Every Nation’

 “And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the Earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men – that they were fair; and of them they took as wives of all they chose.

 And the Lord said, “My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh; yet his days shall be a hundred and twenty years.”

 ASIAN VOICES NHK WORLD

Hong Kong on the Brink

Ichiro Korogi

(Professor, Kanda University of International Studies)

Benny Tai

(Legal Scholar / Co-organizer of Occupy Central with Love and Peace)

http://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/english/tv/asianvoices/archives201408230300.html

Hong Kong is being rocked by pro-democracy protests. Since its return to Chinese rule 17 years ago, its residents have enjoyed a high degree of autonomy. But unrest has been growing. Many say the Chinese government is trying to control the electoral process for Hong Kong’s top administrative officer. In July, some 510,000 people took part in protest demonstrations. At the end of August, the Chinese government announced that it would effectively bar pro-democracy candidates from running in elections. Activists are planning to stage massive rallies and to occupy the financial district in central Hong Kong. Meanwhile, government supporters have held counter-demonstrations. The rift in society has been deepening. What’s behind the Chinese’s government attempt to tighten control? And where is Hong Kong headed? We will consider these questions together with a Japanese specialist on China, Professor Ichiro Korogi of Kanda University of International Studies, and Associate Professor Benny Tai of the University of Hong Kong, one of the leaders of the pro-democracy movement.

George Bush, then President of the U.S., Hu Jin Tao, China’s President, and Than Shue, Myanmar’s Military leader went to visit God, Zarganar emailed a friend just after 9 o’clock; just before the crackdown on the evening of September twenty-fifth. Bush asked God, when will the US become the most powerful nation in the world?” Hu then asked when China would become the richest nation in the world, which drew the same answer from God.

Would you have the government control you for saying something they don’t approve of? Is the First Amendment protecting you and yours? Does the First Amendment apply to you and me? How does our civilized, democratic society stack up to those who do crack down on the right to speak — privately or publicly?

http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2014/07/10/zarganar/

PBS – NHK World News

WorldNews.org

‘Hong Kong On The Brink?’

 What is the meaning of?

 ‘Hong-Kong Democracy,’ ‘Democracy,’ ‘Control,’ ‘Grassroots,’ ‘Bureaucracy,’ ‘ Hierarchy,’ ‘Election,’ ‘Autonomy,’ ‘Free Choice,’ ‘Communism,’ ‘Universal Suffrage?’

Democracy:

…government by the people; a form of government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised directly by them or by their elected agents under a free electoral system.

…a state having such a form of government:

“The United States and Canada are democracies.”

…a state of society characterized by formal equality of rights and privileges.

…political or social equality; democratic spirit.

…the common people of a community as distinguished from any privileged class; the common people with respect to their political power.

Middle French

Late Latin

Greek

Control:

…to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command.

…to hold in check; curb:

“To control a horse; to control one’s emotions.”

…to test or verify (a scientific experiment) by a parallel experiment or other standard of comparison.

…to eliminate or prevent the flourishing or spread of:

“To control a forest fire.”

Obsolete. to check or regulate (transactions), originally by means of a duplicate register.

noun

…the act or power of controlling; regulation; domination or command:

“Who’s in control here?”

…the situation of being under the regulation, domination, or command of another:

“The car is out of control.”

…check or restraint:

“Her anger is under control.”

A legal or official means of regulation or restraint:

“To institute wage and price controls.”

Statistics. control variable (def 1).

…a person who acts as a check; controller.

…a device for regulating and guiding a machine, as a motor or airplane.

late Middle English

Anglo-French

Grassroots:

…the common or ordinary people, especially as contrasted with the leadership or elite of a political party, social organization, etc.; the rank and file.

…the agricultural and rural areas of a country.

…the people inhabiting these areas, especially as a political, social, or economic group.

…the origin or basis of something; the basic or primary concept, rule, part, or the like.

adjective, Also, grass-roots

…of, pertaining to, or involving the common people, especially as contrasted with or separable from an elite:

“A Grassroots Movement for nuclear disarmament.”

Bureaucracy:

…government by many bureaus, administrators, and petty officials.

…the body of officials and administrators, especially of a government or government department.

…excessive multiplication of, and concentration of power in, administrative bureaus or administrators.

…administration characterized by excessive red tape and routine.

French

Hierarchy:

…any system of persons or things ranked one above another.

…government by ecclesiastical rulers.

…the power or dominion of a hierarch.

…an organized body of ecclesiastical officials in successive ranks or orders:

“The Roman Catholic hierarchy.”

…one of the three divisions of the angels, each made up of three orders, conceived as constituting a graded body.

Also called celestial hierarchy. the collective body of angels.

…government by an elite group.

Medieval Latin

Late Greek

Election:

…the selection of a person or persons for office by vote.

…a public vote upon a proposition submitted.

…the act of electing.

Theology. the choice by God of individuals, as for a particular work or for favor or salvation.

Latin

Autonomy:

…independence or freedom, as of the will or one’s actions:

“The autonomy of the individual.”

…the state or condition of having independence or freedom, or of being autonomous; self-government, or the right of self-government:

“The rebels demanded autonomy from Spain.”

…a self-governing community.

Greek

Free-Choice:

Free

…enjoying personal rights or liberty, as a person who is not in slavery:

“A land of free people.”

…pertaining to or reserved for those who enjoy personal liberty:

“They were thankful to be living on free soil.”

…existing under, characterized by, or possessing civil and political liberties that are, as a rule, constitutionally guaranteed by representative government:

“The free nations of the world.”

…enjoying political autonomy, as a people or country not under foreign rule; independent.

…exempt from external authority, interference, restriction, etc., as a person or one’s will, thought, choice, action, etc.; independent; unrestricted.

…able to do something at will; at liberty:

“Free to choose.”

…clear of obstructions or obstacles, as a road or corridor:

“The highway is now free of fallen rock.”

…in a free manner; freely; Nautical. away from the wind, so that a sailing vessel need not be close-hauled:

“running free.” verb (used with object), freed, freeing; to make free; set at liberty; release from bondage, imprisonment, or restraint; to exempt or deliver (usually followed by from); to relieve or rid (usually followed by of): “to free oneself of responsibility.”; to disengage; clear (usually followed by from or of) Verb phrases; free up,  a.to release, as from restrictions: “Congress voted to free up funds for the new highway system.” b.to disentangle: “It took an hour to free up the traffic jam.”

Idioms; for free, Informal. without charge: “The tailor mended my jacket for free.”; free and clear, Law. without any encumbrance, as a lien or mortgage:

“They owned their house free and clear.”; free and easy,  a. unrestrained; casual; informal. b. excessively or inappropriately casual; presumptuous; make free with,  a.to use as one’s own; help oneself to: “If you make free with their liquor, you won’t be invited again.” b.to treat with too much familiarity; take liberties with; set free, to release; liberate; free: “The prisoners were set free.”; with a free hand, generously; freely; openhandedly: “He entertains visitors with a free hand.”

Middle English

Old English

 Choice

noun

…an act or instance of choosing; selection:

“Her choice of a computer was made after months of research. His parents were not happy with his choice of friends.”

…the right, power, or opportunity to choose; option:

“The child had no choice about going to school.”

…the person or thing chosen or eligible to be chosen :

“This book is my choice. He is one of many choices for the award.”

…an alternative:

“There is another choice.”

…an abundance or variety from which to choose :

“A wide choice of candidates.”

…something that is preferred or preferable to others; the best part of something:

“Mare’s Nest is the choice in the sixth race.”

…a carefully selected supply:

This restaurant has a fine choice of wines.”

8.

…worthy of being chosen; excellent; superior.

…carefully selected:

“Choice words.”

…(in the grading of beef in the U.S.) rated between prime and good.

Idioms

…of choice, that is generally preferred:

“A detached house is still the home of choice.”

Middle English

Germanic

Middle English chois < Old French, derivative of choisir to perceive, choose < Germanic

Choice, alternative, option, preference all suggest the power of choosing between things. Choice implies the opportunity to choose: “a choice of evils.” Alternative suggests that one has a choice between only two possibilities. It is often used with a negative to mean that there is no second possibility: “to have no alternative.”Option emphasizes free right or privilege of choosing: “to exercise one’s option. “Preference applies to a choice based on liking or partiality: “to state a preference.” 9. …select, rare, uncommon, valuable, precious. See fine1.

noun

1.

…the act or an instance of choosing or selecting

2.

…the opportunity or power of choosing

3.

…a person or thing chosen or that may be chosen: he was a possible choice

4.

…an alternative action or possibility: what choice did I have?

5.

…a supply from which to select: a poor choice of shoes

6.

…of choice, preferred; favourite

adjective

7.

…of superior quality; excellent: choice wine

8.

…carefully chosen, appropriate: a few choice words will do the trick

9.

…vulgar or rude: choice language

mid-14c., “that which is choice,” from choice (adj.) blended with earlier chois (n.) “action of selecting” (c.1300); “power of choosing” (early 14c.), “someone or something chosen” (late 14c.), from Old French chois “one’s choice; fact of having a choice” (12c., Modern French choix), from verb choisir “to choose, distinguish, discern; recognize, perceive, see,” from a Germanic source related to Old English ceosan “to choose, taste, try;” see choose. Late Old English chis “fastidious, choosy,” from or related to ceosan, probably also contributed to the development of choice. Replaced Old English cyre “choice, free will,” from the same base, probably because the imported word was closer to choose [see note in OED].

adj.

…”worthy to be chosen, distinguished, excellent,” mid-14c., from choice (n.).

…in philosophy, a corollary of the proposition of free will-i.e., the ability voluntarily to decide to perform one of several possible acts or to avoid action entirely. An ethical choice involves ascribing qualities such as right or wrong, good or bad, better or worse to alternatives.

 Communism:

 …a theory or system of social organization based on the holding of all property in common, actual ownership being ascribed to the community as a whole or to the state.

…(often initial capital letter) a system of social organization in which all economic and social activity is controlled by a totalitarian state dominated by a single and self-perpetuating political party.

…(initial capital letter) the principles and practices of the Communist Party.

…communalism.

French

…communism includes all of these when understood in its true meaning. Forms of libertarian communism such as situationism are strongly egoist in nature.

noun

1.

…advocacy of a classless society in which private ownership has been abolished and the means of production and subsistence belong to the community

2.

…any social, economic, or political movement or doctrine aimed at achieving such a society

3.

…(usually capital) a political movement based upon the writings of Marx that considers history in terms of class conflict and revolutionary struggle, resulting eventually in the victory of the proletariat and the establishment of a socialist order based on public ownership of the means of production See also Marxism, Marxism-Leninism, socialism

4.

…(usually capital) a social order or system of government established by a ruling Communist Party, esp in the former Soviet Union

5.

…(often capital) (mainly US) any leftist political activity or thought, esp when considered to be subversive

6.

…communal living; communalism “social system based on collective ownership,” 1843, from French communisme (c.1840) from commun (Old French comun; see common (adj.)) + -isme (see -ism).

Originally a theory of society; as name of a political system, 1850, a translation of German Kommunismus (itself from French), in Marx and Engels’ “Manifesto of the Communist Party.” Cf. communist. In some cases in early and mid-20c., a term of abuse implying anti-social criminality without regard to political theory; i.e. socialism, communism, anarchism] stands for a state of things, or a striving after it, that differs much from that which we know; & for many of us, especially those who are comfortably at home in the world as it is, they have consequently come to be the positive, comparative, & superlative, distinguished not in kind but in degree only, of the terms of abuse applicable to those who would disturb our peace.

 Communism definition

An economic and social system envisioned by the nineteenth-century German scholar Karl Marx. In theory, under communism, all means of production are owned in common, rather than by individuals (see Marxism and  Marxism-Leninism). In practice, a single authoritarian party controls both the political and economic systems. In the twentieth century, communism was associated with the economic and political systems of China and the Soviet Union and of the satellites of the Soviet Union.

(Compare  capitalism and  socialism).

 Universal Suffrage:

noun

…suffrage for all persons over a certain age, usually 18 or 21, who in other respects satisfy the requirements established by law.

Do we in America allow our government to oppress us, disrespect us, detect us, delete us, or to protect us? When we in America elect our government officials — do we control them or do they control us?

 “Let the workers do as they will…let those in the depths use force and do wrong, so that we can be justified in using force against them…behold a New World Order!”

 “If you lead correctly, orders are unnecessary and useless.”

~Confucius~

“He has showed you, O man, what’s good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your GOD?”

 “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the land with a curse.”

— Malachi 4:5–6

*/

 

‘The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging’

"A Believers' View"

“A Believers’ View”

By

Gregory V. Boulware

/*

The Sun hadn’t risen to light up the world this morning. This pain-in-the-ass of a war has proven fruitless. It has put us all in a terrible bind. The ‘Blue-Bellies’ outside were laughing and joking right under the window of my jail-cell window. And as I recall, I think I could see several ‘darky’s’ planting, plowing, picking, and singing in the distance. The damned ‘Yankees’ have taken all that belongs to us…

A couple, maybe three of four birds chirped and sang in the distance. There could not have been any more than that, I’m sure. The Yankee soldiers outside reveled in their mastery while enjoying the aromatic scents of ‘Hemp’ and ‘Moonshine.’ There was no other way to get liquor other than someone making it themselves. There was no store-bought liquor to be had for miles in any direction. The company had its share of ‘shiner’s’ on both sides of the war-torn fences. Their horses bayed and pranced in the cold damp yet dark beginning of the day’s morn. My hanging tribunal was short and to the point. My foolish guilt could not be reversed, albeit, my hatred for these ‘Blue-Coats’ and their Black supporters surpasses my pain and sorrowful agony. I do long for the fragrance and joys of home… My dear sweet ‘Abbey,’ my darling wife and young’uns; my plantation and memories of France cut at my brain.

In France I was broke, poor, and penniless… Here in South Louisiana, I have become rich, powerful, and wholesome. I have more than a hundred acres of land manned by two-hundred and eighty-five of the best young and strong Black livestock in the territory. Four hundred head of cattle graze on my lands. The farmyard houses chickens, geese, ducks, pork, and several dozen head of living horse flesh along with a few dogs and cats. I am a very wealthy man indeed.

These invaders, these usurpers, these Black-defenders who have confiscated our properties…must all return to their northern domains and domiciles or die. We have made and taken great lengths and efforts to drive them out. They will not relinquish our belongings…they will lose theirs!

Cowards and subordinates have taken the places of my one time friends and neighbors. They have cravingly crept into running, hiding, and collaborating with the disciples of the leader of reform, abolition, and reverse slavery for white land owners and the young’uns. I sir, will not allow it, not at all. Someone ought to put a bullet in the head of that tall and long bearded charlatan in that ‘White-House’ Capital of theirs!

I will fight them to my last breath. I will spit on thee and kill thee upon sight of your blue coats. Bounties have been imposed on you white folks who hire, save, utilize, employ, and/or hide any Black run-away slaves or so-called Union Soldiers. I will kill them, and kill them until I can kill them no more. I will shoot their horses, cook their dogs and livestock…and hang anyone who interferes. Their buildings, houses, transportation, bridges, and trestles are game subjects for the targeting of my wrath and abhorrence for their tyranny! Resistance will not be futile.

Did I kiss my wife and daughters this morning? I, for the life of Me do not recall. I cannot remember!

The drifting tufts of the smoking hemp are most gratifying… I’d like a pipe-full. My pipe-full, did I leave it on the terrace table next to my comforting rocking-chair? I do believe that I have. I left it for my return to relaxation once the bridge is blown. That will stop the intrusion, the advancement of these ‘nigger-lovers’ from coming down here, through here.

The morning…its’ beginning was indeed ominous. It was strangely and mysteriously overcast with heavy thick clouds of gray and dulling-whiteness overhead. One bird made a noise that I could hear. The keys of the jail-house door clang and rattled. No breakfast did I receive; no water for washing or drinking was permitted either.

The voice-less ‘Blue-Bellies’ had come for me. It was a time to reflect my misgivings. Do I have any? I wonder. The coldness of the morn and the trembling of my fear, have caused me apprehension to begin the procession to the bridge. I did resist. I did struggle against them, my enemies. But it was all for naught. And then I complied with their directions. We marched from the jail-house toward the desolation of the ‘Owl Creek Bridge.’

A Posted Warning:

‘ORDER…ANY CIVILIAN CAUGHT INTERFERING WITH THE RAILROAD BRIDGES, TUNNELS, OR TRAINS WILL BE SUMMARILY HANGED!’

~This 12 of April 1862~

The posted sign warned all who would keep men as slaves while opposing a right and just law. But this stalwart southerner, tried to blow up ‘The Owl Creek Bridge’ anyway.

“Yes, something occurred at ‘The Owl Creek Bridge’ one morning during the war. It was a chilly, misty, and cloudy one at that.

I was a private when we hung em.” The officer continued on with his recollection. “He was defiant as hell, right up until the end, well, least ways when we put that ‘hemp-rope’ around his neck. We tied his legs and feet so’s they won’t kick and flail. He cried. We then stood his cowardly ass atop a nice new plank…and dropped him like a sack of ‘tatter’s’ in the drink. Lucky for him there was no ‘gators’ swimming about.”

The drum-roll sounded. A bugle blew the morning ‘reviles.’ An owl was heard hooting just as I heard the commander bark the order:

‘First squad, stand-fast! Forward hupp!’

Then, the sound of marching boots…including those which covered my feet. The owl began to sound like a child’s whistle, a flute, or maybe a turtle-dove.

The first Sergeant; with my eyes I did see him un-winding and unraveling the knotted hemp. This was being done in preparation for the perfect noose-fitting around my neck. It simply did fit just perfectly.

Wet from perspiration, my jet-black, long wavy hair did drip the sweat all over me. Blowing through was the wind, but not through the dead looking, leafless trees all around. They just stood there staring at me, laughing at me without an ounce of pity or sorrow; the dead looking, and lifeless gray things. They appeared to be burnt wistful embers of black, gray, and white sinews.

The snow fell from the sky a few days ago. I trembled. I heard my pocket-watch tick…

“Take his watch!” A voice ordered. It was taken away as I stood backward upon a fresh new plank of wood.

Was I dreaming this horrible thing? Abbey, Abbey, my dear darling ‘Abigail.’ Am I not home with you and the babies, my darling? Do I feel the warmth of our bed and the tender bliss of our happiness?

‘A living man, I want to be a living man…’ My dearest, I am with thee, I see thee – I do; I feel thee.

 

~ ‘A livin man, a livin man… I wants to be a livin man.

In all da world, he moves around, he walks around, he turns around…

I sees each tree, I reads each vein, I hears each worm upon each leaf…

The buzzing flies, the splashing fish, they moves around this livin man…

A livin man, a livin man – I want to be a ‘Living Man.’~

“At ten-hut!” shouted the commanding officer. I cried some more… Plunging down, down, and further down into the cold, cold drink, I was suddenly shocked. The cold icy-water pulled me straight to the bottom. My shiny new black knee-high boots filled with creek liquid. I was forced to part with them once I was free of my bonds. The fish gazed and gawked from in front of me and from behind every crevice. I hurriedly swam to the top for air. At the surface, there was plenty to be had.

I heard the birds singing and chirping. I saw the flowers and blooming blossoms on the trees. A beautiful spider was mending her web as a wondrous green frog leaped from one leaf to another… A shot splashed close to my left ear. I saw the soldiers up on the train’s bridge. They were training their weapons upon me…they are going to shoot me, to kill me!

They were steadily shouting at me as I quickly swam away. I swam very fast as though my life depended on it. I outswam their bullets. Under the water, the fish and a tortoise joined me in the trek. I surfaced for air and swam a bit further. A ‘Cottonmouth’ saw me and wiggled in my direction. Diving beneath him allowed an avoidance. They kept shooting at me with handguns, rifles, and cannons. The hemp was still about my neck. Somehow, it had broken from the fall off the bridge.

“He must be hanged! Sergeant, give the order to open fire!”

“Yes sir!”

“If it’s necessary, fire the cannon as well!”

“PRESENT YOUR ARMS! STAND FAST MEN! STEADY MEN, STEADY…AIM, FIRE! HE MUSTN’T ESCAPE! THERE HE IS…HE’S STILL MOVING. HE WON’T GET FAR. HE’S LIKE A RAT IN A TRAP… IN A TRAP, A TRAP, A TRAP! FIRE AT WILL!”

They continued firing and reloading. The bullets and shells hit all around me in the water. The more I swam, the lesser the fire-power. The white-water rapids were now upon me. They threw me this way and that way, hither and fro…they carried me closer and closer towards home.

The forest changed from cold dead limbs to lively and beautiful green leaves with healthy foliage upon the ground. I ran heavily through the fields and into the woods. I ran and ran for what seemed like endless hours. The gunshots and cannon-fire drowned and disappeared in the distance behind me. Then suddenly a familiar pathway opened up in front of me. It pointed, beckoned to me to come hither. The trees, the tallest redwoods or dogwoods that I’ve ever seen stood on either side of the roadway. Wagon traffic must have traversed these woodlands. The pathway was worn well. I ran and ran some more…I ran toward home.

It was familiar, yet it was not. The twenty foot tall wrought-iron double gates stood closed at the end of the pathway. They opened wide upon my approach and closed tightly behind me after I’d passed through. I kept on running, running towards home.

My shoeless feet bled as I began to walk. I’d fallen from running. I was tired but rejuvenated with my new found freedom. I began to skip through the pussy-willows. I then saw it. The multiple tall white columns that adorned the veranda was a welcomed sight indeed. My heart jumped and skipped with gladness. The porch, upon which my rocking-chair sat, the table whose top kept good my corn-cobb pipe filled to the brim with the best flavored hemp, accompanied by a bowl of my savory smoking tobacco. Next to it was my little brown jug.

The mansion’s multi-paned windows gleamed in the bright and warm sunlight. The immaculate and tasteful clothing that I wore were now tattered, dirty, and full of filth. They were shredded to mere rags. I did not care. I was home.

There she is, there she comes… My dear sweet and most beautiful Abbey. I could hear my children laughing and playing…she ran to me – for me…Abigail, my loving wife.

She saw me running toward her. I could not get there soon enough, fast enough. My rags flittered in the racing wind. What was left of my once magnificently embroidered vest simply hung from my shoulders. My pantaloons were mere shreds about my hips and thighs…I did not care. I was finally and completely home!

She reached for me and hugged me. She kissed and caressed me. She held me tightly. I felt her breast upon mine. I felt her warm and full lips upon mine. Her heartbeat was strong as she held me fast and firm. I was home – fully and completely home.

“This is strange dear Abbey…it’s eerily and suddenly quiet. Where are the ‘darkies?’” She quietly smiled. Her pearly white teeth and ruby red lips simply smiled at me. Her beautifully long thick black hair flowed with a sudden gust of wind as she kissed me once more.

“To bed my dear…I wish to bed thee now. It seems like it’s been so long since we’ve made beautiful love. The warmth of you and our bed will feel oh so very delightful, indeed.

Where are the children – where are all the animals?”

She hugged and kissed me some more…and simply smiled as we turned toward the house and the bedroom.

I was happy, oh so very happy and relieved.

I began to cough…it grew worse and would not stop. Abbey smiled and reached for me with open arms and a deliciously delightful kiss that I did not, could not receive. The pain in my neck…on how painful it was.

“My ears heard a pop and a snap while my eyes beheld the bridge full of soldiers above and the cold murky water flowing below… The steady swinging portrayed the cold gray sky and the wispy willows of the dead and lifeless land …all about.

My mind’s ear heard singing. It was the voice of a Black singing an old familiar song of the south. Was this sound also a dream?”

~

‘A livin man, a livin man, I wants to be a livin man…

In all da world, he moves around, he walks around…

I sees each tree, I reads each vein, I hears each worm upon each leaf…

The buzzin flies, the splashin fish, they moves around this livin man…

a livin man, a livin man – I want to be a ‘Living man!’ ~

~

Peyton Farguhar was just plain stupid. He was not a soldier nor was he involved in the activities of the war. He was a civilian southern plantation owner with a family and the owner of slaves.

Peyton was a secessionist who wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to strike a blow for the sovereign states of the south.

Farguhar suckered himself into involvement by acting on an opportunity to fulfill his wish.

“I’ll blow up the damned bridge!” He was warned not to take action on his own by participants of the horrible conflict and that of his close friends. After his capture and sentencing, he dreamed of home and family like so many of the Black slaves once did, the people he despised, with his neck in a noose.

The bridge intended for destruction, stood over ‘Owl Creek,’ bearing the plank that bared the weight of the doomed believer of the confederacy. Peyton Farguhar wished that he’d remained at home.

‘The Bridge’

~Pg., 13-14, ’HALLOW,’ a journey into now and then~

‘Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge’

Ambrose Bierce, ‘The Twilight Zone,’ Rod Serling

“A Living Man,” Henri Lanoe

/*

~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

“Article Posting Sites”

http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.wordpress.com  

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware  

https://www.exploreb2b.com/users/gregory-boulware

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware 

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http://about.me/gregory_boulware

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http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi

 

“Amazon”

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fkmr0?rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Cn%3A283155%2Ck3AGregory+V.+Boulware&keywords=Gregory+V.+Boulware&ie=UTF8&qid=1324957155 

 

And

 

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/#!/AuthorBoulwareG

*/

“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals  

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

 

“The Un-Obscure”

http://theunobscure.blogspot.com/

 “FAIRMOUNT”

http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuylkill-eastfalls-son-twitter.html

 

‘The Triplets and One’

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/

http://thehebrew-israelitesandjapan.blogspot.com/ http://theessenceofinvasionandannihila.blogspot.com/

http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com

 

‘BookCrossing’

http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all

“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012

By

Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware   (Author)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals/dp/1468190997/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top?ie=UTF8

*/ 

 

/*

“The One Thing I Know Is…”

In the Lab

“Well Dr. Caldwell, what do you think is wrong?”

“I’m not sure… I might need to do a more thorough investigation to the problem at hand.”

“Doc, can you please tell me what the nature of the problem is…?”

“I don’t know.”

“But Doc, what do you know?”

“The one thing that I do know is…I don’t know. Do you know how many people are willing to admit they don’t know something?”

“No Doc, how many?”

“I don’t know.”

The quote from the title refers to what the character, ‘Dr. Caldwell’ of the hit television show of the seventies fame, ‘Sanford and Son, uses in response to questions he doesn’t have the answers to.

Now, this author doesn’t practice the art of knowing everything…just makes attempts at trying to know about anything and everything. If you can dig it!

“The one thing that I do know is…How to Understand Technology!”

 

Business Intelligence (BI) and Information Technology (IT) virtually, methodically, and basically go arm-in-arm. Students who are majoring in business, i.e., administration, management, marketing, accounting, etc., will find that BI and IT have morphed into one entity. One does not do without the other.

http://ezinearticles.com/?IT-and-BI&id=714057

When a program or a computer is not operating the way that it is supposed to, we take steps to correct them…we want it fixed. When a person is sick or not behaving the way that one should, we call a doctor or a particular professional to make things right again, right? Well a patch is what IT pros (and non-pros) use to make corrections to the program or computer. They fix the things that are wrong in the program or the computer. Many would rely on a computer geek to get their PC’s up and running. That’s one of the reasons that IT personnel rely on updates to offset the possibility of glitches or malfunctions. In the case of the Matrix movie, “Neo” can be described as the patch, the thing or program that is sent to make things right. One could also interpret the Neo program as the ultimate program or an upgrade. What would the purpose of the all-seeing, all knowing Oracle represent? Can it be viewed as an “All Mighty Being?”

The cloud as we know it; a metaphor for the Internet based upon how the Internet is depicted in computer network diagrams; is a style of computing in which dynamically scalable and often virtualized resources are provided. SaaS (Service as a Software) over the Internet, as I’ve mentioned in previous postings, is the driving force.

http://ezinearticles.com/?The-Platform-On-The-Cloud&id=5458157

 

It definitely takes new tactics and skill sets in order to acquire a position in the new world of IT, Communications, and Analytics. Sentiment Analysis is gauging the mood of Social Networks and is being incorporated by companies monitoring Community-Driven Websites.

http://ezinearticles.com/?Destruction-and-Creation—A-New-Jobs-Hyperbole&id=7182865  

 

The jobs creation claims it’s logical for Microsoft to point to the cloud providers. Tech vendors plan to double its’ workforce this year. They’re saying cloud and mobile applications are giving birth to millions of U. S. jobs.

That perplexing boast causes me to wonder; if that’s the case, why is the national unemployment rate at record highs? The United States Unemployment numbers read between eight and ten percent. These numbers are devastating to the U. S. economical system.

 

A Few Tech Definitions From A to Z:

ActiveX:

A loosely defined set of technologies developed by Microsoft. ActiveX is an outgrowth of two other Microsoft technologies called OLE (Object Linking and Embedding) and COM (Component Object Model). As a moniker, ActiveX can be very confusing because it applies to a whole set of COM-based technologies. Most people, however, think only of ActiveX controls, which represent a specific way of implementing ActiveX technologies.

Ad Hoc:

Description of Research Group:

An ad hoc network is an autonomous system of routers (and associated hosts) connected by wireless links–the union of which form an arbitrary graph. The routers are free to move randomly and organize themselves arbitrarily; thus, the network’s wireless topology may change rapidly and unpredictably. Such a network may operate in a standalone fashion, or may be connected to the larger Internet operating as a hybrid fixed/ad hoc network.

This group is concerned with the study of Ad hoc Network Systems (ANS). Ad hoc networks are complex systems, with cross-layer protocol dynamics and interactions that are not present in wired systems, most prominently between the physical, link and network (IP) layers.  The IETF community and the wider research community could benefit from research into the behavior of ad hoc networks that would enable advanced routing protocol development. This research group will endeavor to develop sufficient understanding in topic areas of interest to enable the desired protocol specification work.

ADJUDICATION:

Administrative Law; to resolve legally, rulemaking, investigation and enforcement, administrative process. The administration of law by administrative agencies.

Adjudication/Subrogation

 

DDL:

Short for Data Definition Language, DDL is a computer language that is used to define data structures. In Database Management Systems (DBMS), it is us…

/TERM/D/DDL.html

Short for Data Definition Language, DDL is a computer language that is used to define data structures. In Database Management Systems (DBMS), it is used to specify a database scheme as a set of definitions (expressed in DDL). In SQL, the Data Definition Language (DDL) allows you to create, alter, and destroy database objects.

(EZT)

PHP:

PHP is responsible for powering an extraordinarily large segment of the Web, driving significant parts of many of the world’s most trafficked websites, among them Facebook and Yahoo. Facebook’s reliance on PHP is so great that they’ve even gone so far as to create Hip-hop for PHP, a utility that converts PHP code into highly optimized C++, resulting in the ability of the Facebook API tier to double its performance while reducing CPU usage.

Distributed Denial of Service (DDOS)

Attacks The Problem:

There are several tools being distributed on compromised computers that allow vandals to remotely control those computers to launch attacks rendering a victim’s computers inoperable. The attacks of several prominent Web sites during the week of February 6-12, 2000 used these Distributed Denial of Service (DDOS) attack tools. The nature of the attack is such that it is very difficult to stop and next to impossible to prevent single-handedly. Some sites have experienced several days of downtime while trying to restore services.

The core problem is the existence of the compromised computers used to create the attack

(note 1).

RSS: Rich Site Service

RSS Optional Channel Elements

In creating an RSS feed (also called an RSS document) Optional Channel Elements are tags you can include in your feed, but are not required in order for the feed to work. Optional channel elements are added in the beginning of your feed and require an open and close tag.

REAL ESTATE 101-A FEW FUNDAMENTALS

                     Real property and the law

                       Land use and Development

                       Interest in Real Estate, Legal Descriptions

                       Forms of Real Estate Ownership

                       Transfer of title

                       Landlord and Tenant Interest

                       Environmental Issues in Real Estate

                       Real Estate Taxes and Other Liens

                       Title Records

                       Real Estate Contracts

                       Real Estate Financing

                      Pa. Real Estate Licensing Law

  1. Air Rights–The right to use the open space above a property, generally allowing the surface to be used for another purpose; The rights to use the open space or vertical plane air above the land. Air rights may be redefined by the courts to include Solar Access Rights. (ex.-Tall buildings to be interfering with the smaller building’s sun rights.

REAL ESTATE LAW

FOR

HOMEOWNER & BROKER

 

ACCEPTANCE OF DEED:

The physical taking of the deed by the grantee.

ACCEPTANCE OF OFFER:

The seller’s agreement to the terms of the agreement of sale.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:

A formal declaration of one’s signature before a notary public.

ADJUSTABLE RATE MORTGAGE:

A mortgage which charges an interest rate which may rise or fall dependent on the movement of the standard by which the interest is gauged.

Diversity Training, The Do’s and Don’ts

Summary Diversity training can improve the company’s bottom line. Tailor diversity training to your needs. Don’t tolerate harassment or weak diversity efforts.

Before you roll your eyes and groan the next time your boss announces a diversity-training workshop, consider this: Diversity training, when conducted properly and under the right circumstances, can dramatically improve not only employee relations but a company’s bottom line.

This book is packed with a whole bunch of factual IT/BI data, Technical Techniques, and loaded with time tested solutions to your Information Technology Library and Study Reference. It’s the perfect learning tool for the novice or beginning Tech Student as well!

The P-O-S-D-C Of Management – A Student Aid

Students should also become familiar with the process of management and what is required to become a manager. The best managers are well informed and are acutely aware of team needs. The needs of the team are met with the managerial support reflecting alternatives and suggestions for a team coordinated solution.

http://ezinearticles.com/?The-P-O-S-D-C-Of-Management—A-Student-Aid&id=3885372

Pupils need every available edge when it comes to studies, whether they know it or not. They should take advantage of every bit of information available, i.e., research articles, white papers, periodicals, magazines, and yes…blogs.

“I was working as a ‘Database Insurance Analyst’ for an insurance company in Blue Bell, Pa., in a contractor capacity, when I wondered what would happen if someone hadn’t shown me how this all worked, you know, computers. I was highly prepared to “hit the ground running” when I walked in the door!”

 

This new book by Mr. Gregory V. Boulware will be available in the printed version… “It’s Here Right Now!”

‘The One Thing I Know Is…”
5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Full Color on White paper
236 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1502581150 (CreateSpace)
ISBN-10: 1502581159
BISAC: Technology & Engineering / Project Management 

 STUDENTS, GET YOUR COPY FOR THIS UPCOMING SEMESTER and USE AS A REFERENCE GUIDE FOR YEARS TO COME!

 

PreGraduation Photo 4 2004

“It’s a simple decision.”

 

/*

~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

 

The One Thing I Know is_10.1.14.jpeg

“Article Posting Sites”

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http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi

 

“Amazon”

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fkmr0?rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Cn%3A283155%2Ck3AGregory+V.+Boulware&keywords=Gregory+V.+Boulware&ie=UTF8&qid=1324957155 

 

And

 

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/#!/AuthorBoulwareG

*/

“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals   

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

 

“The Un-Obscure”

http://theunobscure.blogspot.com/

 

“FAIRMOUNT”

http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuylkill-eastfalls-son-twitter.html

 

‘The Triplets and One’

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/ http://thehebrew-israelitesandjapan.blogspot.com/ http://theessenceofinvasionandannihila.blogspot.com/ http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com

*/

 

Don’t forget to view:

 

‘A Philadelphia Story Teller’

A Couple of Stories From:

“Hallow II”

‘A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany’

http://philadelphiastoryeller.blogspot.com/

http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2014/09/12/a-philadelphia-story-teller/

 

“The Pendulum of Hades”

http://thependulumofhades.blogspot.com/

~”Hallow” A Sojourn Into Now and Then”~

*/

 

 

‘A Philadelphia Story Teller’

A Couple of Stories From:

“Hallow II”

‘A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany’

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

By

Gregory V. Boulware

http://philadelphiastoryeller.blogspot.com/

“Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

 Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

 My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

~Robert Frost 1923~

/*

Eddie and Isabelle were ill-greeted when the odious oaken doors opened. The six-foot nine inch Brother called ‘Lucious,’ stood directly in front of them. His stern and stoic glare created pause on the part of the invading pair.

“What do you want here?” snapped Lucious. “We have had our share of usurpers…desecrators! Go away, go home before you of the outside cause more grief, agony, and world disaster.”

“Please Brother… We have traveled long and far. It is cold and damp – we have no shelter for the night – would you turn us away? I have a young frail woman with me who is ill! Please grant us shelter for just one night?”

Brother Lucious bade them enter and immediately went into a ranting rave:

“A Protestant Physician, Casper Peucer, told of the full-blown conception of witches’ going to a Sabbat, led to the assumption of parallel gatherings of wolves.

The story was repeatedly told by demonologists with regard to ‘lycanthropy.’ The increase in trials for witchcraft at the end of the sixteenth century led people to believe a man could actually become a lycanthrope or werewolf [Germany: Wahr-Wolffe; French: Gerulf or Loup-garu; Italy: Lupo Manaro].”

*/

Many people on the planet profess to know just about everything. There are those who know it all. There are those who know absolutely nothing but boast to the contrary. Haven’t you met people who know everything about anything and everything about everybody? Sure you have…

How many Philadelphians recall the summer of 2003 and the insertion of those beige and red double-decker buses running around in Philadelphia’s Center City District and Fairmount Park? Today they are owned and operated by a reputable local tour bus company. I’m sure many do remember the infusion of those novelty buses from England’s London Town, “The Big Bus!”

They were a bit old indeed, but fun nonetheless…

Now dig this… How many Philadelphian’s and its’ visitors recall that it was a Black Man Supervising its Corp. of Dedicated Driver Operators? Oh yes, the Driver Operations and Garage Housing was run and operated by none other than your neighboring author, Gregory V. Boulware! He was hired as the first lead driver to head up the company’s major campaign of a fleet of ‘Double Decker Tour Buses in Philadelphia’s touring industry and the major sites in and around the city including the ‘Art Museum’ area , “Let Us Storm The Bastille” – The Northeastern State Penitentiary, and The Philadelphia Zoological Gardens, ‘America’s First and Oldest Zoo!’

Two New Stories…GVB~ (2)

Announcing…a New Completed Book!“The One Thing I Know Is…” on the way to the printers!

One story from: “Hallow II” ‘A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany’

http://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/

http://howlofanangel.blogspot.com/

“Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’…expected launch date – ‘Halloween 2014!

/*

Leading them down a darkened corridor of musty aromas and candle-smoke, the Brother continued speaking, “I must tell you this because your life and the lives of all human-kind are threatened by the danger herein.”

The Brother could not disallow the need for shelter, especially on a cold, dark, and damp night such as this. The young frail woman did indeed appear to be ill, just as Eduardo described. However, the Brother vividly recalled what had happened a few short months ago. The tragic event reflected the deeds of another sick and weary traveler…one Mr. David Ellington.

“I will allow you both sanctuary, but it will come at a risk of your own. The evil one has been let loose upon the world. We of the ‘Keep’ expect his return…hopefully well-guarded by the warriors and warlords who are in the service of ‘Halle’ (Hebrew for Father/God) and not revenge seeking minions of the ‘Beelzebub.’”

Brother Kristophus looked this way and that way as he unlocked and opened another oversized double gate-like doors. He allowed them in and warned of the necessity of being interviewed by Brother Jerome. Brother Lucious had simply disappeared into the blackness of the castle. He explained to the intrepid yet spent duo how the Brothers of the ‘Keep’ would not oblige welcoming treats or gestures. Kristophus made it clear that they are perceived as the enemy, the usurpers; the violators of peace and harmony. Instructions on behavior and body language, was conveyed by the Brother, a history of sorts; concerning immediate and long awaited horrifying terror.

Isabelle was comforted with warm compresses, the drying of her clothes, and a warm woolen blanket. She rested in one of the candle-lit rooms near the ‘Keep’s’ front entrance. Eduardo and Brother Kristophus sat close by.

The Brother continued on with preparing them for what’s possible to come. He told serious stories of malice and ill-will upon man by man, then and now.

’Herman Loher’ fell into the hands of a witch judge, circa 1650 A.D. He wrote:

“Is it just, if a condemned person were forced to fight with lions, bears, and wolves for his life, and prevented from protecting himself, since he is deprived of weapons of every device?”

…Hochnotige Unterthanige Wemiitige Klageder Frommen Unschiiltigen (A Most Pressing Humble Complaint of the Pious Innocents).

Loher was not one who allowed his imagination to run wild Mr. Hushmanzata; he was in the thick of it – The Great and Un-holy Inquisitions!”

His book is a one-of-a-kind edition! It was the only one in existence. He had been an official of the law court at ‘Rheinbach,’ near Bonn, during the two fantastic waves of persecution in 1631 and 1636, which killed one person out of every two families. In the proceeding hundred years, the village had not known one case of imprisonment, let alone an execution. But things changed with the visitation of a special itinerant judge, Franz Buirmann.

Loher, as one of the court’s seven local assessors, saw terror grip the village, and contributed to a common bribe to get the judge to go elsewhere. Buirmann went, but returned in 1636. Loher then joined the mayor and one other official in opposing Buirmann, but they received little support; and Loher, having quietly liquidated as much of his property, real and personal, barely escaped with his family to Amsterdam. Buirmann brazenly confiscated the remainder of Loher’s property on August 3, 1636.

Loher became a Dutch Citizen, set up business again, and lived to be over eighty years of age. Loher felt compelled to record his experiences in order to enlighten the authorities for justice in a uniform criminal procedure among humble folk in small towns and villages.

Three points were stressed in Loher’s writings:

1) innocent people who are tried in the witch courts are tortured and die innocent; 2) victims lie when they are tortured; 3) all victims can be forced to confess anything, especially when the torture is repeated.

The author urged the local ‘Princes’ in Germany to scrutinize the court records, to reduce the high fees the officials received for trying each witch, and above all to stop the torture.

Loher vividly describes how a typical witch judge conducted a trial, raging at and cursing the accused – one such judge, Franz Buirmann:

“You apostate, you witch, you dumb dog! Confess your sin of witchery; reveal the names of your accomplices! You filthy whore, you devil’s wanton, you sack cloth-maker; you dumb toad, speak and confess in God’s name! Swallow the holy salt! Drink the holy water! Tell who it was that taught you witchcraft, and whom you saw and recognized at the witches’ Sabbat.

Then you will not be tortured any longer, but have eternal peace and life.”

According to the book and a recorded encyclopedia entry, Loher started collecting his materials when he came to Amsterdam, but did not publish his book until 1676, at eighty-one years of age. He delayed publication for fear of reprisals from the authorities. Upon his realization of the need to speak out, ‘The Hochnotige’ was illustrated with plates of witch torchers – the book was secretly entrusted to one of Loher’s illustrious colleagues and friend, Johannes Kelpius Senior, father of Johannes Kelpius, II; founder of the ‘Rosicrucians,’ forebearer to the ‘Kelpius Society.’ He was given the book for safe keeping before Loher agreed to publishing copies available for the public at large. Prior to that, it was later exposed for a wide Kelpian circulation. The original copy remained with the ‘Kelpians’ who migrated to America in the 1700s.

Some of the books content included several celebrated trials for lycanthropy.

“The Pendulum of Hades”

http://thependulumofhades.blogspot.com/

~”Hallow” A Sojourn Into Now and Then”~

“Listen to me, my friends.” The candle light dimmed and the room appeared to further darken. “This story is very true and all too real… Believe it or not, once, there was an old ‘Nanny-goat’ who had seven kids. She was just as fond of them as any mother over her children. One day, she was going into the woods to fetch some food for them, so she called them all up to her and said:

“My dear children, I am going into the woods to fetch our food. Beware of the dastardly, sneak…the wolf!

If he gets into the house, he will kill you and eat you up, skin and hair, and all. That fiendish rascal often disguises himself, but you will know him by his rough voice and black feet.”

The kids replied, “Oh we will be very careful, Dear Mother. You can assuredly be quite happy about our awareness.”

Bleating tenderly, the old goat went off to her work.

Before long, someone knocked upon the door, and said:

“Open the door, sweet children. Your momma has come back and brought something for each of you.”

Now the kids knew full well whose voice it was. They knew it was the wolf.

“We will not open this door,” they answered. “You are not our mother. She possesses a soft gentle voice; while yours is rough and coarse and we are quite sure that you are the ‘Big Bad Wolf.’

With that, he went away to a shop and bought a lump of chalk, which he ate, and it made his voice quite soft. He then went back and knocked on the door of the goat’s house and said:

“Open the door sweet children. Your momma has returned home from the woods and has brought something for each of you.”

Slick as he thought he was, he put his paws on the window sill, right were the kids could see them. The said to him:

“We will not open the door. Our mother does not have black feet like you; you are the big bad wolf…slick and sly as you think you are!”

Then the wolf ran off to a baker, and said:

“I have bruised my feet; will you please put some cooling dough on them?”

When the baker fulfilled his request, the wolf ran off to the miller and said:

“Sprinkle some flour on my feet.”

The miller thought, “This slick ole wolf is up to no good. I wonder what he’s up to.” He refused to comply with his request.

The wolf then said to the miller, “If you don’t do it, I will kill you and eat you up!”

So the miller frightened as he was, complied with his requests and whitened the wolf’s paws.

For a third time, the wolf approached the door and said:

“Open the door, sweet children. Your dear mother has come home with something for each of you from the woods.”

The wary kids were overly cautious due to the last two visits. Show us your feet first, so that we may be sure you are our mother.”

The wolf did as they asked. He placed his paws on the window sill. When they saw that they were white, they believed all the things he said, and opened the door. Of course it was the big bad wolf that walked in. The kids were terrified and frightened out of their wits. They attempted to run and hide. One of the kids ran under the table, the second jumped into bed, the third jumped into the oven, the fourth ran into the kitchen, the fifth climbed into the cupboard, the sixth jumped into the washtub, and the seventh hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf found them all except the last. He made short work of them…he swallowed one behind the other except the youngest one who hid in the clock-case. The wolf did not find him.

When he had satisfied his appetite, he took himself out of the house and into the woods, where he laid down and fell fast asleep.

Not long after the deep slumbering, the old nanny-goat came back from the woods.

Oh what a horrifically terror-filled sight met her eyes! The door of the house was left standing wide open. The table, chairs, shelving, benches, and other furnishings were overturned, broken, and thrown about. The washing bowl was smashed to atoms. The covers and pillows were torn from the bed. The old nanny-goat screamed and searched all over the house while looking for her children. They were nowhere to be found.

One by one she called them by name, no one answered. When she called the youngest, a tiny voice answered:

“I am here Mother! I’m hiding in the clock-case!”

She ran to the grandfather clock and freed her youngest kid. He told her all that had transpired throughout the hideous occurrence. The mother goat cried and sobbed in unholy despair. In her grief, she went out, the youngest offspring ran alongside. When they arrived at the meadow, there lay the big bad wolf under a large shade-tree. The branches shook with his strong and powerfully loud snores. They examined him from every side, and they could plainly see movement within his distended belly.

“Ah, Heavens to Betsy!” thought the mother-goat. “Is it possible that my poor children are still alive after the wolfish feast?”

She sent the youngest kid running back to the house to fetch scissors, needles, and thread. She then cut a hole in the sleeping beasts’ side. Just as she had begun to cut, the hole in the wolf’s side was a bit larger than a button, a kid popped out its head, When the hole was big enough, all six kids jumped out of the wolf. They were all alive, and suffered not one injury. In his greed, the beast had swallowed without chewing or biting – he swallowed all of them whole.

The mother hugged and kissed her babies while skipping and jumping all about full of joy and happiness. She momentarily stopped the fervent and eager joy. Realizing that this monster could awaken, she sent the kids for rocks and stones. The mother goat and her kids stuffed the wolf full of stones and rocks. She then quickly sewed him back up, without his having noticing anything at all.

Finally after several hours had passed, the wolf had enjoyed enough rest and sleep. When he tried to get up, he felt unusually heavy. He also felt very thirsty. He wanted to get a drink of fresh spring water to quell his thirst. As soon as he began to move, the stones began to rattle and roll on his insides. He cried aloud:

“What’s this rumbling and tumbling that sets my stomach grumbling? I thought it was the flesh and bones of the six kids inside. I find it to feel like nothing but rolling stones.”

Stumbling about, the wolf found it difficult to manage or maintain his stability. When he reached the spring, the unwary monster stooped over the water to drink. The heavy stones dragged him down faster than a weighted submariner. He drowned miserably. He felt as though he were cheated and robbed of something – his life maybe? He swore revenge from the watery grave.

When the she-goat and her seven kids saw what happened, they came running up and cried aloud – “The wolf is dead, the wolf is dead! Hooray!” And they danced and cheered with joy and happiness; they and their mother.”

*/

“Even a man, who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the Wolfsbane blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright.”

The Brother held fast the attention of Eduardo and Isabelle. “This story reminds me of an old tale my Grandmother used to read to my siblings and me at bedtime – it sounds like something from the ‘Brothers Grimm of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”

“I’ve said to you once Mr. Hushmanzata, you may believe what you wish – but I advise you to take heed to the message…”

Brother Kristophus looked up into the eyes of the two travelers. He arose to his feet from the sitting position and reached for his six foot walking staff. Nodding to the figure standing behind them; Brother Joseph had entered the room unnoticed. After turning to see Brother Joseph, the pair turned back to Brother Kristophus. But he was gone. It was like he was never there at all – he simply vanished.

Brother Joseph began speaking while motioning the duo to follow him. “I am Brother Joseph, the Guide. I will prepare you and bring you to the door of Brother Jerome, The Guardian Watcher. During the audience, it is he who will decide whether or not your stay is welcomed or not.”

The Brother walked and talked without turning to look at them. He picked up right where Brother Kristophus left off…

“A fox was one day talking to a wolf about the strength of man. The wolf claimed the title for being stronger and smarter.

‘No animals, ‘he said, ‘could withstand man, and they were obliged to use cunning to hold their own against him.’

The wolf answered, ‘If ever I happened to see a man, I should attack him all the same.’

‘Well, I can help you do that,’ said the fox. ‘Come to me early tomorrow, and I will show you one.’

The wolf was early to rise, and the fox took him out to a road in the forest, traversed daily by a huntsman. First an old discharged soldier came.

‘Is that a man, asked the wolf?’

‘No, answered the fox. He has been a man.’

After that, a little boy appeared on his way to school.

‘Is that a man?’

‘No,’ he is going to be a man.’

At last the huntsman made his appearance, his gun on his back, and his hunting-knife at his side. The fox said to the wolf – ‘look! Here comes a man. You may attack him, but I will make off to my hole!’

The wolf set on the man, who said to himself when he saw him. ‘What a pity my gun isn’t loaded with a leaden-metal ball,’ and fired a charge of black powder in the wolf’s face. The wolf made a wry face, but was not frightened, and attacked him again.

The huntsman gave the wolf a second charge. The beast swallowed the pain, and rushed at the huntsman again. This time he drew his bright and shiny but large hunting-knife, and slashed out to the left and to the right with it. The blade struck home and smeared itself with streaming blood. The wolf ran back to the fox and said:

“Brother Fox, Brother Fox!”

…The fox turned to the wolf and asked, “How did you get on with the man?”

“Brother Fox. I’ll tell you this – I never thought the strength of man would be what it is. First, he took a stick from his shoulder, and blew into it, and something flew into my face, which tickled frightfully. Then he blew into it again, and it flew into my eyes and nose like lightning and hail – then he drew a shiny rib out of his body, and struck at me with it until I was more dead than alive!”

The fox looked up at the wolf and asked “why are you clutching your haunches with both hands?”

“Well Brother Fox, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit or make a discharge from my rectum again. I do believe that I will be dead momentarily. Not only did the shiny broad and sharp rib cut at me real good, I heard the man scream out:

‘If I do not have at the ready, a leaden-metal ball, I sure as hell have these silver ones. I then heard and saw the black powder explosion from the stick he carried. I turned to run but fell down when the shiny orb struck and pierced my behind. The pain that I felt was indescribable. It felt nothing like the orbs thrown at me before. They only itched after contact and caused me to scratch. But this one has caused me to bleed and feel pain – this pain along with the pain and bleeding caused by his big shiny and sharpened rib. I feel my strength and consciousness ebbing Brother Fox. I am dying while man is stronger than we…’

“Now you see,” said the fox, “what a braggart you are. You’ve thrown your toothy face out so far that you can’t get it back again.”

Eddie and Isabelle were left standing there, facing each other. They turned to question Brother Joseph. He was gone.

The broad oaken door in front of them slowly, very slowly opened along with the sound of an eerie groaning creek.

“Come in, enter and be seated my children.” The loud and strongly masterful commanding voice frightened them. Seated behind a large desk of wooden antiquity was the tall and sinister figure of Brother Jerome.

The sound of a howl and a loud strong bone-chilling growl emanated from the shadows and aided the two in hurrying into the quarters and presence of the ‘Keeps’ number one occupant.

‘You have no doubt been educated of our world perplexing dilemma and responsibilities by the good Brothers; have you not?”

The uneasy travelers trembled slightly in his presence.

“Yes Brother Jerome,” Eduardo answered. Isabelle shook her head in agreement.

“Good,” said Brother Jerome. “I can’t emphasize enough the gravest of dangers awaiting the world have been securely suppressed and confined within the walls of this Keep. Recently the father of all evil escaped from imprisonment due to the interaction with an outsider. His invasive and damaging intervention allowed for such an atrocity to occur. We’ve warned him in every way possible…to no avail. We have pleaded with him while we aided in his healing! All we wanted him to do was leave us in peace…leave us in our world of solitude; our business. We entertained and enlightened him. How did he re-pay our indulgences and hospitable generosities? He did not take heed of our warnings! It was he who aided in re-releasing of that horrible man-killing entity upon the vulnerable existence of mankind! The goodness of it all is his intrepid search and tracking of the beast. Along with the aid of sanctuary Brothers across the globe, we will soon have him back inside, with the grace and will of God.

And now we have you two… Can you not wonder why we do not offer or accept hospitality or sanctuary from or to outsiders?”

Brother Jerome held their full attention. When Eduardo and Isabelle attempted to explain their reasons for the intrusion, the holy-man shrugged and waved for them to stop talking.

“I am fully aware of why you are here and how you have come upon us. So that we fully understand what it is you intend to do from this point forward, remains to be seen.

In order for us to properly protect you while you are here, we must provide you with as much pertinent information as heavenly possible. You will need to arm yourselves – prepare yourselves, should we fail to do so; no man-made weapons will defeat this evil. The only salvation is guidance from the ‘Most-High’ and his humble but vigilant disciples.

Brother Jerome reached for a book high up on the highest of shelves in the northwest wall of his office. The volume was old and dusty but firm and fully intact. The thickness of it readily suggested an abundance of recorded knowledge.

The holy-man sat back down behind his opulent oaken desk while motioning the travelers to do the same. He then fumbled about the inside of his robes and produced a small pair of reading spectacles. The brother proceeded in further espoused enlightenment. He leafed through a few pages before reading to them samples of the text therein:

“It is said that once a lion planned to go live in another land. Then all the beasts held a convention. He told them all of his intention, and they ‘should select a king.’” He thought he’d not be back again. The beasts requested that he provide another lion. He answered that he had no heir. He had not raised one – he did not dare. Among themselves must be their guest to find the one who’d govern best. And thus it was they who chose the wolf, for no one else was bold enough to dare take anyone but he (even though all of them thought the wolf was a villain).

Yet he assured them all, and swore he’d love them best forever. They went to the lion next and stated the wolf had now been designated as king. He said to doubt not in the least. That they had picked a clever beast, extremely fast and versatile, provided that his heart and will were as they ought to be – sincere.

But one thing caused the lion fear – that the wolf for counselor would pick the fox who knew well how to trick; both are insidious and base.

If from the wolf they wanted peace, on holy relics he must swear that he’d touch no beast anywhere and that forever he would not eat any meat, no matter what.

The wolf then most willingly swore to more than what was asked of him. But when he had been bound by oath, and whether lion set out, the wolf had a vicious craving for some meat. He made plans for deceitful purposes. He intended to get the beasts to all agree and give him leave accordingly.

The wolf them summoned a ‘Doe Deer,’ and secretly questioned her. If for his love of truth, she would tell about wolf’s breath – how did it smell?

She said it smelled terrible, almost unbearable. The wolf was very angry then. He sent a summons to his men. He questioned all those who had come. He asked them what kind of sentence would be given when someone spoke such things to his Lord’s face, such words of shame, slur, and disgrace. Should this one die, they all attested. The wolf then had the deer arrested. While they all watched, he killed the deer and ate the better part of her.

To help cover his crime, he proclaimed that he’d share portions of the kill, what remained, with them.

After his hunger pangs had ceased, he called for yet another beast. He questioned her in the same way as the first. How smelled his breath – what would she say? The poor thing would much rather lie than tell the truth for fear of suffering and death. So she replied that she knew of and smelled no scent. It was fragrant and very excellent.

The wolf summoned his cabinet and asked his barons, when they met, what punishment he should decree to one who would lie so deceitfully. They all judged that she must die. When they caught her, they brought her before the wolf. He killed her, tearing her limb-from-limb, and ate her all up right in front of them.

Time passed. The wolf observed a monkey. He was fat and quite well fed. Oh how he had coveted that monkey. He desperately wanted to eat him, to devour him.

One day, the wolf went to him. He inquired about his breath – did it stink or smell quite sweat – “what do you think?”

The monkey was extremely sly. He was in no way intending to die. So he replied that he didn’t know. The wolf didn’t know what to do. The monkey could not be condemned because no intended harm was done.

The wolf went to bed feigning illness. He complained to all the beasts. He thought he would never get well. They all came in turn, paying him a call. They sent out for doctors so that they may know if he’d be well again. The doctors were all at a loss to know. None of them found or saw a thing wrong nor could they find a cause. There was no injury to cause such a mood. If only he would desire some food!

“I have desired food, good doctors. I have entertained no other wish for some time now. I have had no other wish except to eat some monkey flesh. Of course you know of my oath, where I loath to touch another beast unless I can justify it very well; my barons could ratify it!”

They all gathered together and gave this view:

“That is what he must do. There is no cure for what ails his heart’s desire, no cure.”

Their remedies could not be sure. When the wolf king heard of what they advocated, he seized the monkey, killed him, and ate him. On all in turn, one-by-one, sentence was passed:

His oath to none of them was fast or sure.

Thus by the wise man we are taught that we, no matter what, must not ever make a wicked man ‘seignior,’ nor show to such a one honor.

His loyalty is as much a pretense with strangers as it is with his close friends. And toward his people he will at as did the wolf, with his sworn pact.

Brother Jerome closed the book and stared at the man and woman for what seemed like a long moment.

“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man… But where does one begin and the other end?”

Isabelle and Eduardo looked at one another and then back at Brother Jerome in bewilderment. They had no answer to give.

Brother Jerome smiled and rose to his feet. He walked over to the bookshelf and returned the big book to its proper place. Breaking the silence, he asked, “Why is it, the so-called educated, do not have or acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

Brother Jerome walked over to the window and peered at the full moon. It provided a brilliant light against the blackened nighttime sky. It cast a broad spectrum of white, silver, and grey light over all that was touched by its glow. He motioned for the pair to come over and join his gaze. Once they arrived, he pointed to a field of shrubbery. It appeared like a field of black foliage in the night. The Brother explained to them in the day light, the plants are a brilliant green with small and vividly white blossoms when I bloom. They only bloom in the light of the full moon.

The puzzled man and woman looked at each one another with frightful bewilderment and astonishment. Somehow, the explanation had contained…a familiar ring to it; an eerie memory. They heard a growl. It was an intensely loud growl and not too far away. It, the growl, was followed by a ferociously sinister howl-like that of a wolf.

Shaken with fright and ice-cold fear, they turned to see Brother Jerome standing behind them, clutching tightly to his walking staff. He stared at them intently and began to speak – almost trance-like…

“Even a man, who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolf-bane blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright!”

Brother Jerome’s frightful yet stoic during his trance-like look broke the silence once again…

“Well now my dear, you cannot leave here tonight even though we do not want you.”

Eddie questioned his statement and the meaning of why they couldn’t leave.

“Eduardo,” the Brother took him aside so that Isabelle could not hear his words. “You and your companion cannot leave because she bears the mark of death…”

“Bullshit Mr. Holy Man!” Isabelle could clearly see that whatever the holy man said to Eddie surely shook him up – and she knew the conversation was about her as well. “She hasn’t got a mark on her! She only felt a little sick and feverish because we were caught out in the elements… What damned mark of death? Man, you all must be crazy or high on something in here – you’re all full of shit! We’ve got enough for our research and story. Come on ‘Izzy,’ we’re getting the hell out of this Looney bin!”

Eduardo reached for the tearfully and frightened woman. They started for the door.

“STOP!” shouted the monk, STOP Mr. Hushmanzata – should you and she leave here tonight you will surely meet your deaths!”

The horror-filled pair kept moving toward the door.

“STOP Mr. Hushmanzata – look at the right palm of her hand!”

They stopped moving and stepped back away from the door. Eduardo turned Isabelle’s hands over, palms up. Shock, spine tingling horror, and blood curdling terror would not be strong enough words to describe their current demeanor or disposition. The shadowy image of the five-pointed pentagram – the five pointed star that disappeared and re-appeared on the entire palm of her hand gave them blue vein cold fright. It brought them to a high level of indescribable fear and graveyard-cold terror that no one has ever been able to present to a living soul. They backed away from the door, fumbling for the chairs they recently occupied as Brother Jerome attempted to provide some form of comfort.

~”Hallow II”~

View the continuing saga:

Expected Launch Date…

~’Halloween 2014’~

 … I’ve decided to go back to the Philadelphia Library, the local branches, and then the main building on ‘Vine Street.’ That particular branch is well known for its humungous compilation of literary facts from damn near the beginning of time.

I’ve also managed to dig up several interview and essays on our illustrious if not notorious Kelpian Society. The new and current president is known by the name of Thomas Carroll.

“When There’s No More Room In Hell”

http://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/

http://thependulumofhades.blogspot.com/

  ‘The Mystery and Quest for The Monks of the Wissahickon’

Part One:

‘Valley Green’

(End of Part One): Next

Part Two:

“And The Darkness Comes”

“I’m not at all averse to the idea or belief that Kelpius may have been murdered,” said Rafael Piccalleo. He makes the statement while glancing back at me in a mischievous manner.

“He managed to bring quite a few valuables and artifacts with him from Europe. One of which, I might add, is a fascinating refractive sundial. When filled with water, time appears to be moving backwards, or in reverse. This reference of Biblical proportions is highly significant to the Rosicrucians. A piece like that would, I believe, drive a person to murder for its possession. Many of these irreplaceable treasures are still in circulation today.”

I’ve managed to secure an interview with a Mr. Rafael Piccaleo, a former docent for the Wissahickon Wildlife Association. He granted the interview based on his curiosity of what I intended to write. He assured me of the Rosicrucian desire for complete and utter privacy, but would assist me in telling the truth about the order. His wiry physic and intense yet comforting charming mannerism complemented his long greying hair allowed me to feel quite at ease with him. This settling behavior opened a comfort zone while listening to his raptured recitation. He was highly excited to spread the word of goodness, like that of a religious missionary discovering the new world and a horde of people waiting to be saved. I knew him to be a stone mason by trade. Mr. Piccaleo considered the past-time of treasure hunting enjoyable.

“I seek the greatest treasure that the world has ever known, and that is the truth.”

He motioned for me to gather my things. We then packed our belongings into a waiting SUV. We arrived, sooner than I thought, to the parking area on ‘Forbidden Drive.’

We spent several hours clambering around and through mounds of shrubbery and thickets. Piccaleo talked while we walked and climbed. He recounted several different facets of Kelpius’ history. He accredits Kelpius with astounding alchemical abilities as well as being the first teacher in the ‘New World’ to offer free education to all, regardless of race or ethnicity.

Piccaleo is enraptured as much by the Kelpius legend as he is about history. He has extensively researched both obsessively while being unable to resist adding his own flourished by tangentially connecting Kelpius to everything from ancient Egyptians to the Holy Grail.

Many of the German artifacts that arrived in America with Kelpius and his followers, Piccaleo believes are still scattered around Philadelphia’s vast park lands.

We came upon a rock outcropping that Rafael believes the monks used for astrological observations and the possible site of their worship hall. It’s located directly under the ‘Henry Ave. Bridge.’ While observing these stones and prayer locations, Piccaleo produces a book from his hiking pack. It’s a local history book relating the legend of Kelpius’ death.

Piccaleo cited Alan Holm, an architect, founded the Kelpius Society in 1986. He became fascinated with the story and legend after a chance encounter with a group of Rosicrucians who happened to be worshipping near the Kelpius cave in the Wissahickon Valley Green location.

“We’re not a bunch of people walking around in robes chanting through the woods,” states Holm in Rafael’s book. “We want to be taken seriously as an organization – maybe some of our members do that sort of thing, and that’s fine…but both sides have a place here.

We approach a portal to one of the caves and Piccaleo cautioned me to step carefully because sometimes people use that cave as a toilet.

I wondered why he pointed out that particular cave. We continued walking. The cave was dank, dark, and deep. Examining evidence along the way, our battery powered lanterns and torches allowed excellent if not limited illumination; the ruins of a cottage appeared at the exit outside the tunnel/cave into a complete patch of green life – a complete circle! In the middle of this large circle was a cottage. It was the ruins of a 19th century cottage that may have been built on the foundation of Kelpius’ house in the woods.

Arriving here, we – I was extremely excited. Piccaleo had been here before. Despite his most grandiose claims, Piccaleo makes it clear the “cave” was probably a spring house or root cellar of unknown origins and that Kelpius, given his illness, would probably not have chosen to mediate in this place – a damp pit. Piccaleo pointed to a slope in the hillside, near a spring that was actually used by the monks. He speculated that Kelpius’ secret library and alchemical lab are buried somewhere underneath that ground.

We were now standing in a little stone grotto, the current stone entranceway into the Kelpius cave. A marker honoring the monks stands erected and installed by Rosicrucians, complete with cartouches and other obscure glyphs sits nearby.

I could resist asking Piccaleo the same question that I asked the friendly neighbor. I resisted…but the dead or missing kids were now vividly upon my mind.

“Mr. Piccaleo, what do you know of the man; also from Transylvania, and possibly a passenger onboard that sailing vessel who could also be a ‘Kelpian’’ or ‘Rosicrucian’; named ‘Vlad Teppes,’ member of the order ‘Dracul?’

His face suddenly went stoic and white as marble. His manner changed abruptly. All evidence of cordiality and color was dismissed from him. Hid gaze was suddenly and allusively defiant.

“I know of no such man – no such person!”

“Then why sir,” I badgered, “why do these stone slabs, these alters, if you will, show evidence of a recent cleaning…remnants of soap and dried blood along the sides?”

A Viral Epidemic:   

The medical examiner was at a loss to explain the two puncture wounds on the rear left side of the dead boys’ neck.

My notes and research show the probability of a failed murder attempt on the head monk of the Rosicrucians – it did not specifically identify Kelpius as being the target. Two spikes of oaken wood were found in one of the caves in the Wissahickon Valley. One was on the floor, the other caked in blood, laid vertically atop the alter of cool marble.

To my horror…in my mind, fingers began to point in the direction of the hermits in the Wissahickon Valley Green. The missing children in the northeast region of the city of Philadelphia began as an accusation – as it did with the ‘Dungeon Queen.’

Part Two:

“And The Darkness Comes”

>

~“FAIRMOUNT”: Terror In The Park; A Preview~     

~“FAIRMOUNT”: Terror In The Park; A Preview~“FAIRMOUNT” https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1129978 /* “The Horror of It All…!” The race against time begins in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park.
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“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012

By

Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware   (Author)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals/dp/1468190997/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top?ie=UTF8

“They say there is no sin in Killing a beast, only in killing man…

But where does one begin and the other end?”

Til Next Time…

GVB

*/

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‘Another Racial Divide’

view fr balcony 12th fl 8 10 09

By

Gregory V. Boulware

http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=269823&cid=10

 “When law becomes a science and a system, it ceases to be justice.”

“The segregation in St. Louis has been a pressure cooker for so long I’m surprised that protests over a shooting haven’t happened sooner!”

Is GOD and the rest of the world watching?

Black Last Supper

‘Two rallies, one racial divide over Ferguson shooting’

Reuters

By Nick Carey and Edward McAllister

http://news.yahoo.com/two-rallies-one-racial-divide-over-ferguson-shooting-004209133.html

Rival Rallies As Peace Returns To Ferguson

By Nick Carey and Edward McAllister

Calm holds in streets of Ferguson, Missouri two weeks after police shooting Reuters

Officer in Missouri shooting unaware teen was a suspect: police Reuters

Protesters mark two weeks since police shooting in Ferguson, Missouri Reuters

Missouri takes control of security away from Ferguson police Reuters

Protesters rally after black-teen’s shooting.

~Associated Press~

FERGUSON Mo. (Reuters) – As the crow flies the two rallies held Saturday afternoon over the fatal shooting of an unarmed black teen by a white policeman were about 10 miles (16 km) apart, but the racial divide that separated them made that distance seem infinitely greater.

In Ferguson, a crowd of around 500 people marched under a blistering Missouri August sun to protest the killing of 18-year-old Michael Brown two weeks ago by Darren Wilson, on a route that took them almost to within sight of where Brown died.

Meanwhile, supporters gathered at Barney’s Sports Pub well south to rally for Wilson, the officer who shot Brown dead. Some 70 people attended at the rally’s peak in the dark, low-ceiling bar with dart boards, pool table and an old cigarette machine.

The stark difference between the two events was their racial composition. The crowd at Barney’s, which is frequented by police officers and firemen, was entirely white, while the marchers in Ferguson were mostly black.

The killing of Brown on Aug. 9 has sparked sometimes violent protests, laying bare long-lingering racial tensions in the United States and prompting international condemnation of the clashes between police and demonstrators. On Saturday the differences that separate some in the black and white communities and their current moods were on full display.

Sondra Fifer confronts demonstrators supporting Ferguson Police officer Darren Wilson during a rally.

The rally at Barney’s was peaceful, but participants expressed anger at the way Officer Wilson and the police force have been treated since Brown’s death. This is a community that has been on the defensive after Brown’s death and one that on Saturday sought to make its voice heard.

Many participants would not give their full names, citing a fear of death threats. Others expressed anger at media coverage of the fatal shooting.

 “An officer that has abided by the law has been tried and found guilty without the evidence,” said Laura, 48, who carried a placard on the sidewalk in front of the bar that read, “It’s not about Black or white, it’s about rule of law.”

 ‘WE’VE GOT YOUR BACK’

Navy blue T-shirts were on sale to raise money for Wilson’s family reading “Darren Wilson I stand by you.

Supporters of officer Darren Wilson hold placards outside Barney’s Sports Pub in St. Louis, Miss …

“We are here to support you, officer Wilson, and we’ve got your back,” said St. Louis resident Mark Rodebaugh whose wife’s family owns the bar. “He has been vilified in the news but his story is coming out.”

Early in the day Sandra Fifer, an African American woman, drove up and disrupted the gathering. Walking among Wilson supporters, Fifer, who came alone, shouted

“Why are the police not shooting on you?”

 Although the rally up in Ferguson was mostly black, there were plenty of white protesters among the largely quiet and somber crowd. They included St. Louis County police chief Jon Belmar, who marched at the head of the rally alongside Ron Johnson, the black Highway Patrol officer who has been in charge of policing efforts here for over a week.

Among the white protesters was Jennifer McCoy, a 48-year-old lawyer who lives in the St. Louis area and attended with her daughter Blair, 10.

 “The segregation in St. Louis has been a pressure cooker for so long I’m surprised that protests over a shooting haven’t happened sooner,” McCoy said. “So I’m here to show my support.”

 The mood among the black participants varied. Nicki Taylor, 33, a nurse, was grim faced and determined.

 “I’m tired of the injustice that is being inflicted on our young black men,” she said. “I’m going to keep doing this until Officer Wilson goes to jail for the execution of a young unarmed black man.”

 But there were also those like Robbie Bailey, 47, who works for General Motors and spoke of a need for America to recognize its racial problems and police tactics but also said he was praying for Officer Wilson’s family.

 “Both families are going through a really hard situation right now,” he said. “The problems we have are much bigger than two men. They’re much bigger than one community.”

 “We’re talking about the entire system and America needs to acknowledge the problem so we can fix it,” he added.

The choke hold was applied and death was the end result – the death of another Black Man By The Hands of the police… This case has been placed before us in the determination that this young man was shot multiple times while his hands were raised, in the frontal torso and the top of the head by an attacking police officer; a pathologist report and eye witnesses…

So, who are we to believe (the truth of this case), the cops or our lying eyes?

 ‘The Jurisprudence of Every Nation’

“When law becomes a science and a system, it ceases to be justice. The errors, into which a blind devotion to principles of classification has led the common law, will be seen by observing how often the legislature had been obliged to come forward to restore the equity its scheme has lost.”

~Landor~

 

Til Next Time…

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“A Battle For Freedom And Independence In And Beyond Colonial Times, Surrounding the Lives of The Cliveden House”
‘The Battle of Germantown, An Incident in History – What Began As A Summer Retreat, To A Colonial Landmark” 1763-1998
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
By

Gregory V. Boulware

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/269813/a-battle-for-freedom-and-independence-in-and-beyond-colonial-times

9.18.98

 Paying close attention to the ‘scuttle-butt,’ gossip, and rumors about, I remember hearing something about an occultist and his group back in history class. It was something about George Washington and a mystic back in the 16th or 17th century. It was during, I think, the French-American and British war of the colonies. The old mansions in Germantown reflect upon the general’s visit along with the French leader, Lafayette.

The mansions along ‘The Great Road’ held a complete and authenticated history of events from back then.

What I do know up to this point is what has been said, stored, and recorded:

~ “The Battle of Germantown” occurred at the Cliveden Manor. “It was also the country home of Pa. Chief Justice Benjamin Chew. On October 4, 1777, a British regiment occupied Cliveden and defended it from full assaults by the Colonials. Over 70 soldiers died on these grounds. Although it was an American defeat, Washington’s bold strategy helped to win French aid for the cause of independence.” – “The First Protest Against Slavery was here in 1688, at the home of Tunes Kunders, an eloquent protest was written by a group of German Quakers. Signed by Pastorius and three others, it preceded by 92 years Pennsylvania’s passage of the nation’s first state abolition law.” ~

What began as a summer retreat, to a colonial landmark, became the site of a viciously nasty war, “The Battle of Germantown.’ Many have wondered if this was an accident in history.

Cliveden Manor is a story of a colonial family, the servants, and its slaves.

Before William Penn and the Mayflower, the Native Americans lived on the land now known as the United States of America. Here in the northwest, the Philadelphia-Germantown area is where the Quakers settled to farm and establish businesses. They were mostly of German descent, hence the name Germantown.

This area was also a haven for runaway slaves. “The Underground Railroad” ran through this region of the country as well. There existed a number of “Safe-Houses” for escaped African-American Slaves (not known then as African Americans) such as, The Mennonite Meeting House and the Johnson House. The route to freedom for Black people often led to Canada, although a number of African descendants decided to settle in Germantown where they felt safe from persecution.

The great-great grandfather of Chief Justice Benjamin Chew (1772-1810), John Chew arrived in Virginia from England in 1622. The Chew family and the Penn Family were friends and business associates. The protégé of Penn, Benjamin Chew was legal counsel to the Penns’ and eventually family tied by way of marriage of Chew and Penn offspring. The two families also had ties with other prominent families in Pennsylvania and other colonial settlement areas.

It took Chief Justice Chew four years to complete construction of the Cliveden (1763-1767). The house was named after a mansion that Chew admired. The Cliveden was specifically designed to become a summer retreat from the home in the city, Philadelphia, six miles away.

Philadelphia was then the capital of Pennsylvania.

Philadelphia was a bustling town. Everything came out of and through the city of “Brotherly-Love,” such as, mail, business transactions, shipping, etc.

The ‘Yellow Plague’ drove the Chews to reside full-time in the sleepy rural farming community.

The Chews were among several wealthy families in the region. Not only was Ben Chew a protégé of Penn, he was a prominent Philadelphia lawyer-jurist and served as a representative of the three lower counties of Delaware, Maryland, and Connecticut. Later, his service led to a political career.

With the “Great-Road” (Germantown Avenue), the view of the mansion was majestic. Its’ majestic stance was not obstructed by tall trees and shrubbery, as it stood atop a hill, basically, alone in those days. The year 1777 marked the ‘Battle of Germantown’ between British and American troops. British Commander Colonel Thomas Musgrave, head of the British regiment, quartered in the house of the Chews, while his troops bivouacked behind the orchards of the Cliveden. The house was placed under British protection.

General Washington’s troops marched down from the ‘Skippack’ farming area through Chestnut Hill and into Germantown on October 4th, 1777. During the dark early morning, with visibility at a minimum, the fog thickened sky was enhanced by thickening smoke of cannon and musket fire.

From the ‘Billmeyer’ house, not more than a city block from Cliveden, General Washington commanded the American troops during their engagement with the British troops occupying Cliveden.

At times, neither side could tell who the enemy was. There were incidences of friendly fire deaths (where soldiers accidentally shot each other by mistake). The American soldiers donned white pieces of cloth, sticking out from under their head-gear, so that their brethren could tell who they were. They tried to burn the house; it would not burn. It was unscathed by musket and cannon fire, most likely due to the thickness of Cliveden’s walls. The Americans withdrew to the ‘Peter Wentz’ farm up through Skippack Pike, to their previous camp and later to ‘Valley Forge,’ from their unsuccessful siege on Cliveden in the winter of 1777-1778.

“The Revolutionary War” has many chapter levels throughout for the fight for independence from England. The “Battle of Germantown” was a bitter defeat for the American army. The Chews reportedly were not at the house during the battle.

Mr. Chew was in exile during the battle, after an arrest warrant was issued. Even though he lived in America, he was British. His loyalties to America were called to question.

The “Mischianza” was held at the Walnut Grove, May 18th, 1778, honoring the farewell of General Sir William Howe. He was scheduled to return to London, England. Two of the Chew girls were escorted by Brits to the Ball. The ‘Mischianza’ was a festive occasion with a mock tournament of medieval knights, their squires, and pages; in jousting events, dancing, colorful fireworks displays, and an elaborate banquet.

‘Blair McClenachan’ (owned the mansion thru 1779-1797), lived in Philadelphia during the war, he made most of his fortune by outfitting privateers. This man also had political aspirations. Mr. McClenachan held republican sympathies with France while serving the democratic society in Philadelphia. Like Chew, he also used Cliveden ad a summer retreat. While he and his family resided at the Cliveden, McClenachan suffered economic reverses. He sold off all his land investments, Cliveden being the last property to go. However, before that he entertained some prominent individuals during his tenure at Cliveden. The English translator of the “Marquis de Chastellux” was one such visitor; General Washington was another.

The war began to change its’ tide in favor of the Americans by late spring, 17178. Mr. Chews’ exile-imprisonment came to an end.

Benjamin Chew, believing himself to be a practical man, maintained a low profile for the duration of the Revolutionary war. Around 1779, he and his family moved to Delaware, where a plantation was owned by his family. This is the same plantation along with the plantation in Maryland where Chew sent his slaves after being written out of meeting by the Quakers for owning slaves.

According to a census report, Chief Justice Chew owned slaves from the eighteenth century into the first decade of the nineteenth century. His father also owned slaves. The census taken in 1820, reported Chew owning two male slaves; their names were not recorded. In 1797, a report showed ownership of three slaves. Also, in the Chew service were four free-Blacks, who were slaves, three males and one female. There was one Black Man that the Chews had a fondness for. His name was “James Smith.” Mr. Smith entered the Chew services in 1819 until his death in (age 52) 1871. It was believed that Mr. Smith also had a fondness for the chews.

Although it was not uncommon for whites to own slaves in the north as well as in the south, the Civil War, and the “Emancipation Proclamation” changed the horrible and despicable practice of slavery.

The Cliveden Manor owned by Blair was rented to the Spanish Ambassador, Don Juan de Miralles. This was a burden he badly needed to dispose. He owned the mansion from 17179 thru 1797. He died in 1812.

The Chew family re-acquired the Cliveden for the Marquis de Lafayette on July 20th, 1825, as part of his triumphal tour of Revolutionary War Sites. With the victory of the Americans, George Washington also returned to Germantown, and a visit to the Cliveden in the company of Philadelphia Mayor, Samuel Powell.

Chief Justice Chew, Sr. would probably feel right at home in the Cliveden of today, as it has changed very little, with the exception of some modern conveniences added to the dwelling. The current household furnishings are those used by the Chews at Cliveden and/or the families’ other residences.

In 1972, Cliveden was acquired by the National Trust for Historical Preservation, for all people to experience.

Anne Sophie Penn (1805-1892) and Samuel Chew, III (1832-1887), were the two people throughout the Chew generations that were most impressive. The relationship and hardships that these two shared and endured showed a great belief and love of the Chew house would have probably disappeared altogether. They struggled through the family squabbles, the wars of the country, the monetary pressures, and the changing of the times and neighborhood.

“Samuel Chew, III, who died at the early age of fifty-five, was a man of gentle manners, or great kindness of heart, and of dignified courtesy.”

“For Anne, life at Cliveden was a mixture of joy and tension. She and Sam divided the responsibility for the care and management of the land. Anne worried about the future of Sam and Mary’s children, while Cliveden remained a center of social activity.” By the 1880’s, the estates’ place in history was assured. Cliveden was now recognized as a historic site.

The stair, hall, and entrance hall, both hold and entertain great beauty and interest. The three long guns (muskets) give a sense of presence of the soldiers who fought and died in the ‘Battle of Germantown’ (the framed survey map-boundary line between the Pennsylvania and Maryland), lend a real sense of history.

The ‘Civil War,’ ‘Slavery,’ ‘The Emancipation Proclamation’ – the ring of freedom for all Black People and People of Color, leaps into mind with a powerful explosion of pride and passion. The painting, “Storming the Chew House,” also promotes a vivid glance of history.

Just across the street, behind the mansion, the existence of ‘Slave Quarters’ stand erect today while being occupied by residents of color – remind us all, “Slaves were born and bred in this area of Philly (bought and sold in Center City – Head House Square), ‘Germantown,’ ‘Roxborough,’ ‘Mount Airy,’ ‘Chestnut Hill,’ and beyond…the suburbs of ‘Colonial Philadelphia’ and its ‘suburbs.’

The Suburbs? Are they truly a heaven from the rigors of city life or are they the heaven of retreat from the horrors of the past and present – the lying lie of “No Slavery in The North,” when there is no more room in hell, will the dead truly walk the Earth?

Are the ‘Kelpian’s’ continuing the tradition of Sabbat?

http://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/ 

 

Til Next Time…

 

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“We Are Not The Minority”

By

Gregory V. Boulware

 OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Hans Massaquoi ‘The Black In Nazi Germany’

“His skin color made him a target for racist abuse.”

~The true nature of Nazism~

 

There have been myths in circulation concerning a so-called identity crisis of ‘Bi-Racial’ individuals. The statement claims “the children won’t know who or what they are!” Several young individuals have expressed their heavy laden burden of being bi-racial by identifying themselves as “mixed.” This reporter has attempted to remove that piece of their problem in the ‘gone-does not exist’ receptacle. I use the metaphor of ‘baking a cake or a pie’ as one example of the non-sequitor. Messages received in response have been pleasingly jovial and understood. Several ‘Bi-Racial’ social connections as well as those of whom I know personally, have eagerly engaged in the topic, have accepted and continue to make changes in the description of people like them…with pride.

 

Many people who are ‘Bi-Racial’ have been perceived as ‘Black’ unless it benefits or pleases the eye of the beholder. Not to mention those who have been described as passing – (for white). Many children who are Bi-Racial have been raised in the Black community. However, that particular count is misleading. The billions of Bi-Racial Children all over the world have not been included with the groups of Bi-Racial Children in the states. When you consider Germany, Italy, France, Russia, Ireland, England, Spain, China, Japan, Turkey, Israel, and all of the other countries, nations, and states throughout the world that Black People have at one time or another, set foot by visitation and/or planted roots; babies were born and bred without a thought, to the contrary or otherwise – it was a normal thing to do.

 

The article ‘Outnumbered’ has put the challenge of that argument, hopefully, to rest. However cases of said anxieties are not to be considered non-existent. So, to those of you who question yourselves and your identity…bear with me for a moment and continue to absorb the following text.

 

Nine U.S. counties in five states saw their minority populations across all age groups surpass 50 percent last year.

 

So-called Minorities made up roughly 2.02 million, or 50.4 percent of U.S. births in the 12-month period ending July 2011. That compares with 37 percent in 1990.

In all, 348 of the nation’s 3,143 counties, or 1 in 9, have minority populations across all age groups that total more than 50 percent. In a sign of future U.S. race and ethnic change, the number of counties reaching the tipping point increases to more than 690, or nearly 1 in 4, when looking only at the under age 5 population.

 

The number of white births fell by 11.4 percent, compared with 3.2 percent for minorities, according to Kenneth Johnson, a sociologist at the University of New Hampshire.

 

The Pew Foundation found other findings within the research report:

The migration of Black Americans back to the South is slowing. New destinations in the South, including Atlanta, Charlotte, N.C., Raleigh, N.C., and Orlando, Fla., saw sharp drop-offs in black population growth as the prolonged housing bust kept African-Americans locked in place in traditional big cities.

 

“OUTNUMBERED?”

 http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/?s=outnumbered

http://biracialandoutnumbered.blogspot.com/

 

Do you still entertain some level of doubt in yourself? Do you still feel unimpressed and unconvinced? Are you feeling downtrodden or perplexed – defeated? Take a glimpse into the life and times of Brother Hans Massaquoi.

 

The Nuremberg Laws were passed in 1935; Massaquoi was classified as a non-Aryan. With a view to becoming an expert machinist was encouraged by his mother to embark on an apprenticeship.

 

He was unable to pursue a professional career and instead A few months before finishing school, Massaquoi was required to go to a government-run job center where his assigned vocational counselor was Herr von Vett, a member of the SS. Upon seeing the “telltale black SS insignia of dual lightning bolts in the lapel of his civilian suit,” Massaquoi expected humiliation. Instead, he was surprised when he was greeted with “a friendly wink”, offered a seat and asked to present something which he had made. After showing von Vett an axe and discussing his experience in working for a local blacksmith shop, Massaquoi was surprised to be informed that he could “be of great service to Germany one day” because there would be a great demand for technically trained Germans, who would go to Africa to train and develop an African workforce when Germany reclaimed its African colonies. Before Massaquoi left the interview, von Vett invited him to shake his hand which was another source of confusion to Massaquoi.

The daily life of the young Massaquoi was remarkable. He was one of the few mixed race children in Nazi Germany, and like most of the other children his age, he thought about joining the Hitler Youth. There was a school contest to see if a class could get a 100% membership of the Deutsches Jungvolk (a subdivision of Hitler Youth) and Massaquoi’s teacher devised a chart on the blackboard which showed who had joined and who had not. As this was filled in after each person joined, Massaquoi felt left out, and he recalled saying, “But I am German…my Mother says I’m German just like anybody else”. He then persuaded his mother to let him join the Jungvolk. He went to register at the nearest office but he faced hostility.

 

Massaquoi lived a simple, but happy childhood with his mother, Bertha Nikodijevic. His father, Al-Haj Massaquoi, was a law student in Dublin who only occasionally lived with the family at the consul general home in Hamburg. Eventually, the consul general was recalled to Liberia, and Hans Massaquoi and his mother remained in Germany.

 

Massaquoi describes his childhood and youth in Hamburg during the Nazi rise to power. His biography provides a unique point of view: he was one of very few German-born Bi-Racial children in all of Nazi Germany, shunned, but not persecuted by the Nazis. This dichotomy remained a key theme throughout his whole life.

 

Hans-Jürgen Massaquoi (January 19, 1926 – January 19, 2013) was a German American journalist and author. He was born in Hamburg, Germany, to a white German mother and Liberian Vai father, the grandson of Momulu Massaquoi, the consul general of Liberia in Germany at the time.

 

Increasingly, however, he realized the true nature of Nazism. His skin color made him a target for racist abuse. However, in contrast to German Jews or Romani, Massaquoi—an Afro-German—was not persecuted. He was “just” a second-class citizen, which was actually a blessing in disguise. During World War II, his “impurity” spared him from being drafted into the German army. As unemployment, hunger and poverty grew rampant, he even tried to enlist, but he was abusively rejected by the officers. In this time, he befriended the family of Ralph Giordano, a half-Jewish acquaintance of their swing kid age, who survived the war by hiding and ended up being a journalist as well.

 

Massaquoi dated a white girl but they had to keep their relationship a secret, especially as her father was a member of the police and the SS. Such relationships were also forbidden and classified as ‘Rassenschande’ (race defilement) by the race laws. To keep the relationship secret, they met only in the evenings, when they would go for walks. As he dropped his girlfriend off at her house one night, he was stopped by a member of the SD, the intelligence branch of the SS. He was taken to the police station as he was believed to be “on the prowl for defenseless women or looking for an opportunity to steal”.

 

Fortunately for Massaquoi, he was recognized by a police officer as living in the area and working:

“This young man is an apprentice at Lindner A.G., where he works much too hard to have enough energy left to prowl the streets at night looking for trouble. I happen to know that because the son of one of my colleagues apprentices with him”.

The SD officer closed the case and gave the Nazi salute, and Massaquoi was allowed to leave the station.

 

Immigration:

 

In 1947 Massaquoi was able to visit Liberia, and was fascinated and shocked by its raw, rural nature. He grew estranged from his father Al-Haj. He left his mother and whom he considered arrogant and tyrannical.

 

Massaquoi immigrated to the United States in 1947. He served two years in the army as a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne Division and became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1950. With his GI bill he studied journalism at the University of Illinois followed by a career at Jet magazine and then Ebony magazine, where he became managing editor. His position allowed him to interview many historical figures of the arts, politics and civil rights movement.

 

Over the years he visited Germany many times. He’s stated that “Germany is still my homeland.”

 

Personal life:

 

Massaquoi’s beloved widow is Katharine Rousseve Massaquoi. He had two sons by a previous marriage, Steve and Hans Jr., who also survived him.

 

The bloodlines (remember Adam and Eve?) of many different groups of people (if not all) have been blended since throughout time all across the globe. Biracial children, the mixing of the so-called races has existed all over the world since the beginning of time. How does one account for the many different hues and colors of the many different people from everywhere? Is it possible that someone continues to believe that his/her bloodline is truly made up of one individual racial group? Purity, if you will?

 

Mixed? Well it has been argued that the term is a possible slang for “mixed-bloods.” But when one describes herself or himself as “mixed,’ you have to wonder or question their state of identity.

 

Surely, those who continue to believe they are superior and outnumber their description of so-called minorities; one must know by now…that you are truly and indeed outnumbered.

 

Til Next Time…

 

Refer:

‘Many Rivers To Cross’

The African Americans

~Henry Louis Gates, Jr.~

PBS.Book/DVD

 

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware

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“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals   

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

 

“The Un-Obscure”

http://theunobscure.blogspot.com/

 

“FAIRMOUNT”

http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuylkill-eastfalls-son-twitter.html

 

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