by Kaka Big Chicken, an alter ego of katharineotto.wordpress.com
Saturday, October 10, 2015–My muse. The Squire Wire muses me as I go about daily routine that is no longer routine. He’s become my roommate during the day, ever since Toozie died a few weeks ago.
He seemed so lonely, back in that coop, 75 feet away from all the action, the sunlight, and in a place swarming with mosquitoes and mice.
The Squire Wire has been squiring hot chicks around Poopalot Farms Fertilizer Factory since August, 2011, when Squiggles conjured him up and made me drive 300 miles to smuggle him across county lines and home. She was fixing to starve herself in that nesting box, if I didn’t get her a boyfriend. So 300 miles, $4, a chicken auction, and five hens later, Squire is left only with Kaka Big Chicken. She is the ugliest of the chicks, but a shitload of laughs, if you’re a rooster. With underlings Speckles and Brownie, who live in the basement apartment, and outsiders, like Socksie, who refuses to come indoors, Squire rules the roost.
AND THEN (BEFORE I SPOKE CHICKEN)
ROBBING HOOD–Monday, October 8, 2007 – When you rob from the perceived rich to give to the perceived poor, you are still a thief. You set up a race to the bottom, because everyone vies to be the best thief.
What happens when everyone is equally poor? Leadership loses its relevance, and it’s every woman for herself, unless she can learn to cooperate with neighbors. This is genuine leadership.
Now, government robs from the poor to give to the rich. This is easily camouflaged, because there are many more poor than rich people. In aggregate, poor people consume more food, energy, clothes, whiskey, tobacco, and lottery tickets than those who live off other people’s taxes. The rich are protected by the tax collectors in the federal monopoly.
BURNED-AT-THE-STAKE LIFE–Tuesday, October 9, 2007 – I’ve been thinking about my friends’ attitudes, revealed over the years I went the medical route. They were furious at me, seeming to think I sold out for the money. I was merely exploring my own consciousness through the medical model. They hurt my feelings most by making no effort to understand my point of view or give me credit for the history we shared.
They seemed so afraid I would abandon them that they pushed me away. I had to go deep inside myself to find companionship. Here I make friends of ghosts, memories, my cat, plants, and the few people who accept me at face value or who must deal with me.
I feel like a witch appearing to burn at the stake, shackles melting in the heat, but who emerges triumphantly from the blaze.
“I’m only waiting for the chains to melt, Assholes, then we’ll see who can take the heat.”
The witch got a little burned in the chastening, admittedly, but she’s walking, talking, and breathing fire. She cackles. Smell that? They piled hemp on the logs, so the burning was more enjoyable this time.
I have internalized the sacrificial heat, contained and controlled it, practicing using the dragon’s fire to advantage. Sort of. Burned the tips of my first and second fingers the other day.
However, burning witches is a waste of time and resources, and it distracts everyone from doing anything useful. It pollutes the air and puts everyone in a bad mood.
ATHEISM COSTS NOTHING–Wednesday, October 10, 2007 – Let’s just say atheism costs less. God doesn’t need the money. She grows money on trees for men to burn.
Here at the Church of the Holier than Thou, Incorporated – CHT, Inc. – we believe in treating god right, sitting under living trees and appreciating how valuable trees are.
Buddha did the same thing, and they turned it into a religion. I believe Buddhists are eligible for property tax exemptions, too, but trees don’t pay property taxes anywhere. So if you worship trees, you have created a religion that is naturally tax exempt. No paperwork required, therefore more trees saved, and CHT, Inc., promotes CO2 consumption and global cooling, at a profit to all.
SCIENTISTS–Wednesday, October 10, 2007 – A true scientist is a naturalist, a life scientist, someone who appreciates life as it lives and moves. By destroying life or restricting movement, scientific imposters create artificial circumstances and avoid investigating life’s purposefulness.
ON GRAMMAR–Wednesday, October 10, 2007 – I don’t like the rule that sentences must have verbs or that all paragraphs must have sentences. What’s so great about a sentence? OK. No verb. Not a sentence. Fine. Do I care? No. Phrases convey meaning. Do they deserve a period, if they are only phrases? Of course they do. Periods have their own lives. They don’t need sentences to survive.
I also veto the rule that all words have to be spelled the same way every time. Why should “grammar” be spelled with an “a” in the second syllable? Why not “grammer,” as it sounds? A quite forgivable spelling error, I figure. I had to look it up in the dictionary, and it looked wrong there, too.
Certain words have alternate spellings, of course, and the most confusing are those with suffixes. “Controling” or “controlling”? “Retailing” or “retailling”? What’s the diff? One “l” is more efficient, so that I’ll use. Whenever I can reduce letters, I economize on effort.
Thursday, October 11, 2007 – I became befuddled by a contraction, then noticed how my self-imposed grammatical rules stump me. I have a prejudice against contractions. The writing elite has deemed commas passe. Ellipses were the first to go, as I recall. What next? Dashes? Omigod! Exclamation points expose the unsophisticated writer. Periods will be next. I can see it coming . . . the end of all resistance to the forward flow of words.
AUTHORITY–Wednesday, October 10, 2007 – It’s easy to blame men for the state of the world, but they were raised by mothers who enabled them. The mothers, wives, daughters, girlfriends, and secretaries all allow behaviors that disrespect others, including women.
Rather than claim their own power, these women hide behind men and push them forward. My grandmother, Kate, pushed my father to become a doctor. He was justifiably resentful of both his mother and mine for their manipulations. He wasn’t strong enough to stand up to them in some ways, like career choice, but he held fast in others, like living here, or refusing to participate in the social merry-go-round.
My sister kissed up to him, even when he was wrong. This served her well when she and I argued, because she would run to him for his reciprocal unqualified support. How many times did he tell me, “You’re the oldest. You should be more responsible.”?
Had I been savvier, I would have replied, “No, you’re the oldest. You should be more responsible.”
If authority merely aligns with the aggressor, without considering both sides, what respect will I have for authority? I become my own authority, if I want justice.