Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Of Sticks 'n Stones: Something I Found on the Net



Of Sticks 'n Stones: Something I Found on the Net


Thought you might find this interesting. Found it on the interbutts ... forget where ... On some message board thing. It's in reply to some obviously lofty, naive declaration of some kind, on the nature of man and the world.

Right click and open in new tab/window.


Here's text as follows:

Since our hairy asses began to walk upright, we had one major goal as men: To make everything within eyesight bend to our will. We broke bones and cut our flesh rending the ground beneath us into something hospitable in an otherwise brutal and unforgiving nightmare. We fought every beast we could find in a quest for dominance, then, when we stood atop the mound of corpses of every creature that wished to do us harm, we moved on to the most dangerous game; Ourselves.

We fucking chased down game until it died of exhaustion. We beat each other to doom-esque gore piles with our goddamn fists.

Then we realized rocks and sticks work better. We had a fucking bronze age. Fuck your textbook; That guy who found metal wasn't saying, "Oh, I could til more soil with this." He was saying, "Well fuck! I could cleave way more heads than Ogg over there with this sharp shit!"

And we started battling. For almost every fucking ancient city, we had a group of men dedicating to smiting other men. We used that to shape the world into other nations, testing themselves against a tide of ever raging war to see who could stand on their own lust for fucking death.

Samurai, pirates, knights. We all knew them as children. Why?

We didn't grasp feudalism. We didn't ponder their technical advancement over their foes. We knew they were good at one thing. War. And we wanted to be ... Just ... Like ... Them.

Parade all you want about one small speck of humanity that did the same dance as our common ancestors, because you're still right, albeit stupid. You don't know if you want to swim in dark water. You don't know if you want to play with spiders. You don't know if you could eat a raw eel. But you and almost every man alive knows he's willing to kill if he needs to. Regardless of who you love, where you come from, what you worship, you're still a goddamn human. And war is your craft.


That ominously strange website I grabbed the title illustration from here.


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Saturday, April 9, 2011

April Snowers

                                                        April Snowers

                                                                 by

                                                                    Jay Agan

      April 4. I look out from the loading dock at work. Snowing again. There's an old saying in Ohio: "Don't like the weather? Wait a few minutes. It'll change." Ohio ("What's round on the ends & high in the middle, O-HI-O!" Yuck! Yuckity, yuck!) is an old Native American word for "Too darn hot. Too darn cold. Too darn wet. Too darn dry."

      When Delaware was an Indian village on the Olantangy River named Pluggystown (Named after a Mingo chief.), two trappers were heading north on a path what was later to become Sandusky Street. Heading south was an elderly native grumbling rather loudly to himself. One of the trappers called out to him, "what's wrong with you?"

      "Oh Hwah Yo!" And he walked on.

      The trapper turned to the other guy. "Y'know? When this territory opens up. that'd make a great name for a state!"

      OK! Don't believe me! See if I care!

                                        Article copyright © 4-9-2011 Jay Agan

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Sunday, November 21, 2010

Kennedy Kurses!

                                                              Kennedy Kurses!
                                                                      
                                                                            by
         
                                                                               Jay Agan

     November of '88. Had been back a few months in Ohio after a 4 year stint in Jersey. Was back to start what I thought was going to be a new life & career (Can't complain. Took my chances, made my chioces.)
  
     It was the 25th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination & I'm stuck as a telemarketer for a cheap-jack insulation company that shall remain nameless. I'm into my mid-30s & the kids there were 20-somethings. One gets the idea I'm a piece of living history & would I be so kind as to relate my experience of one of the 20th centurys' defining moments? Sure.
  
     I was in Miss McIlvoys' third grade class at St. Vincents in Mt. Vernon. Principle gets on the pa & announces the pres got shot & to pray for the repose of his soul. Then some creepy choir music was piped in. One kid (who also shall remain nameless) got to laughing over it. Other kids got quiet. I didn't feel affected at all. On the bus home, the high & jr. high kids speculated over what few details they got on the news. Again, no big deal as far as I was concerned. I get home, turn on the set. News. At this hour?
  
     "Jay! The presidents' been shot!" Mom calmly explained to me. And?
 
     Later, it dawned on me. What?! No cartoons?! It was that serious enough to keep me from watching my weekly U.S.D.A. required dose of brain rot? I didn't think so.
  
     Needless to say, the kiddies at work weren't too thrilled over this first hand account of MY ENCOUNTER WITH HISTORY(!) (Insert light show here.). One he-bitch whined indignantly over my cheating him out of some hoped for profound insight.
  
     Strange as it seems, coming from a film fan, but I never was into hype & the cult of celebrity. Especially when it comes to politicians of whatever stripe.
  
    What did these fools expect from me? Something sage sounding & momentous? An unforgetable anecdote from one who was "in the moment"? Oh, come on! I was a kid. 9 years old. As a child, I thought & lived as one. I had a childs' priorities. And it was through the eyes of one I remember it.
   
    I'm not trying to be mean or callous about this. It was a terrible thing that happened. BUT:

   Anyone who was a little kid at that time telling you about "a profound sense of loss", etc. is full of it. He/she was just as ticked off as I was about no cartoons that dreary Thanksgiving weekend in November '63. Nuff said.

                                                     Article copyright © Jay Agan

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