Man burns brightly in the night. Who can frame his fearful symmetry?

In the void he struggles. As the night demons pounce. He is master over his environment. But always restless.

Do not distract the Great Eye as it turns toward the issue of the moment. Do not ask the free man to bend the knee.

He dispenses with the most critical issues in a blink of an eye as his intellect swivels here and there. Ripping down the priority tree as fast as he builds it.

Wonders upon wonders. Crackling power in the very air. Ready to leap out of any constraining channel the moment the realization and dare come.

One foot on sea the other on shore... to one thing constant never...
Quote

How can I make you see the importance of this very moment? The worlds, the dynasties, you will create with your choices? The power in your sweating bodies? The long lineages that culminated in you... this chance!

You will read the inscriptions... consider them well... and then throw open your casket! Will you choose gold, silver, antimony, lead, palladium, or einsteinium? Will you shirk all decisions and seek some cheat? What will be your fate? Feel the immensity of the moment and all of Creation watching you with wide eyes!

I have tried to prepare you. As did your ancestors. My conscience is clean. Go now to your destiny! I know you will make the right decision and take your line to all that it can be!


Quote

bom bomba ba bum bomba ba bomba ba

You came!
I was alone.
I should have known...
you are...
temptation!
bom badda da bum badda da badda da

You smiled
Luring me on
My heart was gone
And you... were temptation

*descending stair note fall*

It would be thrilling...
If you are willing...
If it cannot be...
pity me... for...

bom badda ba bom bum ba badda ba bum bish

You were born to be kissed
And I can't resist
you are temptation
And I am yours!

* home stretch march *
Here is my heart
Take it and say that we'll never part
I'm just a slave... only a slave...
To you!

Temptation I'm your slave!
Quote

Ride: Hello?

Cleeve: Good day sir! Clyde Cleeve here. You plug 'em, we plant 'em.

Ride: Oh I hear you are in the casket business? But perhaps I was misled?

Cleeve: Believe me I understand. My primary mode is funerary but I also work in the marriage line.

Ride: I am acting as a kind of agent for a friend. She needs one of those clever marriage caskets. But is too busy to come up with something on her own.

Cleeve: Wise young lady. Such matters should not be left to amateurs. It was so much easier when a noblewoman could count upon a wise faather to arrange such matters.

Ride: Oh and so you are bonded and trained for such work?

Cleeve: Your reputation precedes you sir as a man of wisdom and character. Therefore I will be frank. The roles of undertaker and marriage casket creator are different petals on the same flower. There is no difference in training nor in certification.

Ride: The deuce you say! I suppose the first thing to do is determine the winning element or compound. She wants to be diamonds but I have always thought of her as more of a Potassium.

Cleeve: It is a matter of some delicacy to be sure. I have a fiduciary duty to both the designer and the opener. Are you sure she is up top on the Periodic Table and not down in the heavier more unstable nuclei? Is she radioactive? Was she naturally occurring or created with a collider?

Ride: Well, I think she'd be well represented by one of the earlier star reactions with high yield. No decay. Or unusual isotope. But her shell is nearly full.

Cleeve: I see. That narrows it down considerably. I'd recommend four red herrings. Make the probabilities more in line with today's bandwidth. It is good to make one of them a noble gas. Good mixture of acids and bases. I would stay light and early. You are not gonna get many who pick salts and heavy elements and you need a good false rate.

Ride: Do you have a catalog? I need to get to my breakfast and Sunday chores now.

Cleeve: I recommend an in person visit. There is so much to show you! And isn't it time you thought about your passing as well? Do you even have a plot reserved?
Quote

hmmmm let's see...

Lithium: He who chooseth me will get some relief from his manias.

Contents: He who seeks a living breathing antidote is in a desperate plight indeed. And mixeth remedies and needs. Cure your head and keep it clear, you will need it and more when a-wife-hunting you go!

Passing good. Insert a doll with crazed eyes that they make to give nightmares to chiildren. Hand clutching note, all crumpled up.

Coupled with a previous vow to silence on threat of lawsuit with picture of grinning legal team and budget added.

But how should the casket be decorated? hmmm. Perhaps will wait on that decision until more go by.

Every task seems immense and not worth the price until one breaks it down and takes the first few steps. Do not fear little ones... you have men as mentors and stewards.



Quote

Truly there is a casket for every man!

Lone Ranger: Silver!!!

Brue Lee: Water!!!

Tuco: Revolver!!!

Homer: Donut!!!

Coronado: Gold!!!

Stenmark: Snow!!!

Arthur Dent: Tea!!!

The clever matchmaker knows. Knows how to prime the trap. And SNAAAAPPPPP!!!! Somewhere the Love Vulture groans!
Quote

** REMOVED BY ADMINISTRATOR ** Quote

Caskets. Damnable caskets.

Richelieu scowled.

His vast network of spies could not tell him which held the woman. And he had only 10 minutes allocated from his busy day.

Why did humans have to be so stubbornly irrational? Why was Love given such a place and not the State not Gloree!

He thought of her. Her vast tracts of land. Their two powerful and ancient families.

"He who chooseth me gains what many men desire" Peasants. Cretins. Most men are dim lights who have no concept of duty or Gloree. Their desires lead them on mad adventures that endanger the precious State.

"He who chooseth me gets what he deserves" Deserve? I serve. I am His Eminence the Cardinal. My robes are rich for Gloree's sake. I cultivate dread of the King's power. Only God can decide and grant what I deserve. Begone bauble.

This next is lead with some nonsense writ. I have spent far too much time on foolishness. If I relent for even a moment some officious fool will cost treasure or lives. Let the lawyers and agents negotiate the deal. My only sun is Gloree.

Quote

Clever Ms Swann managed to turn the tables again...
and so maneuvered into the casket choosing position.

There were five of them. Many had tried. All had failed.

She read each inscription carefully as the casket choosing music played.

Suddenly a light flashed on in her mind. She had it! She knew which casket her future husband was in!

She approached the wise magistrate who oversaw the ceremony and ...

Magistrate: Which casket do you choose?

Swann: I choose... the one... that... looks like... ... ... a casket!

The drummer stopped his drum roll and put hands on hips.

Magistrate: Maam.... you must choose a casket!

Swann: I know big boy. I bet you wish it was your casket!

Magistrate: I don't have a casket! I am the judge!

Swann: Here come the judge... Here come the judge! Whoooo!

Magistrate: CHOOSE A CASKET, LADY!!!

Swann: Take a chill pill fellah. I choose. I want... the one... that... looks like... a... ... .... casket!!!

Assistant: Oh I get it. That black one looks like a funeral casket.

Swann: No not that one!

Assistant: Then maybe the one with the white cloth draped over like a shroud.

Swann: You are an eager beaver. No. Not that one!

Magistrate: Two down. Only three left. Maybe the furry one?

Swann: You are just guessing now. No way Jose!

Magistrate: Okaaaay. That leaves just the yellow and the puce. Lady... do you want the yellow one?

Swann: I want the one... that looks... like a casket!!

Magistrate: Very good. The yellow one it is!

Swann: I didn't say I wanted a submarine. Sheesh.

Magistrate: *as the drummer resumed his roll at long last* Ms Swann chooses the PUCE casket!!!

Rafael: Oh congratulations my love and future wife!

Ms Swann: Slow down Romeo. You must date me first! Just what kind of lady do you think I am?

And as the sun sets slowly in the West we leave the new found lovers to their journey.


Quote

You've worked so hard. Done your duty in a tough world. Contemplated the future with clear eye.

So let me share some song lyrics from a popular 80s song... Christopher Cross. Good for slow dance with your baby:

Well, it's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, believe me
It's not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, believe me
Sailing
Takes me away to where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
Soon I will be free
Fantasy
It gets the best of me
When I'm sailing
All caught up in the reverie
Every word is a symphony
Won't you believe me?
Sailing
Takes me away to where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free
Well, it's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, really, believe me
Sailing
Takes me away to where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free Quote

Flynn burst into the room of caskets suddenly.

He threw a bottle of ruum, sans contents, into a corner. And read the inscriptions with a leer. Not that he seriously considered any of them. But he knew that he wanted details for his inn tales that would come later.

"Here be bloood!" said he and threw the bloood casket open. It contained a black spot that he took up and pocketed with a grimace.

"Here be heart" said he, and indeed came he to take up Davie Jones' heart still beating as he opened and boldly took.

Now he had to swipe near and far with cutlass as guards came. But managed to snag one last before swinging out the window.

"Here be death" he hissed as the fatal casket took him mid-air.

Quote

A vision most clyre... of a pairhaps future tyme...

Here ye, here ye... the Court Oyer and Terminer, clothed with the awesome power of the State...
Hath convened in judgement of this pathetic wretch who dares rip asunder what the Almighty hath sown together for all tyme,,,

Assigned Defender: Holiness, my client took marriage under the old laws and is not obligated to obey these new laws...

Judge Superior: SILENCE!!! THE LAWS OF HEAVEN BIND ALL!!! IT MATTERS NOT WHAT SINFUL LAWMAKERS CONSTRUCTED IN THE PAST!!! HE KNEW FULL WELL WHAT HE WAS PROMISING WHEN HE TOOK HIS BLOOOD OATH!!!

Trembling Penitent: All I did was open a casket I found in the street...

Judge Just: IS CHAOS TO REIGN AMONGST US!!! WHO GAVE YOU LEAVE TO SPEAK, DOGG!!!

Judge Superior: Spare the rod... Spoil the citizen. FL0GGE HIM!!!!

Wailing Penitent: yiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Whaling Fl0ggigent: Ya gotta put your whole body into each swing!!

The story doth not need full development to caapture the imagination of the gentle reader. There be many possible outcomes of every dice roll. Your outcome is probably not the worst.



Quote

And what of Mazarin?

He had no time for caskets at all. He had Frondes to deal with.

Parlements had proven vulnerable. Condes could be overcome in time. Anne knew what to do.

And Louis rose as sun king at last. Dance nobles, dance. You had your chance to serve France. Now fop in Versailles. Revolve around your sun.

History plays the same theme with variations over and over. Tap your foot, cock your head, and enjoy the symphony.

Quote

Across the Empty Quarter...

Over the Himalayic Spine...

By crack of whip on straining team...

By hand carved out-rigger war canoe...

Came he at last to temple site. Dodged through trap after trap. Fought man and beast...

At last at center. With Tarzan yell. In defiance of all things thrown in his path...

Take casket in hand. Prize open its lid held by squeaking, groaning hinges...

Man's will in triumph regnant...

Note in casket: Shoulda turned west not east at Albuquerque. Your suit is... COLD!!!


Quote

I do not have time for foolishness. My relatives have commissioned the digging of my grave. A Halloween treat for themselves. That gives them the chance to sit back in anticipation after. They truly are connoisseurs of a kind.

All through my life they have set snares for me. The most deadly: the caskets of Amontillado. I can tell you with that urgency of the condemned man that you must never choose a nitre casket.

It was when I was young, and the world seemed fresh, easy and wonderful. Now as an old, paranoid miser... a thin legged skinflint... I feel only the cold icicle of death entering my withered heart. My thin, wan, bony ass cannot even stand a plump cushion for more than a few minutes. I writhe in my chair. Frequently rising to keep from shitting myself. Don't believe your pipes are forever copper, young whippersnapper.

Do you think the old man is here to give you candy? Fah, buck up and hold out your tin cup for dollops of steaming warm character instead.

Don't open strange caskets. Don't walk on the shady side of the street. Try to have some bearing as you wait for the light to cross. And put away your idiot phones as you walk about doing your pointless things.

Where was I? That day in October when I opened casket and sealed my doom Still gives me chills. Look at my shaking withered hand. Do you think I ever was young? Did I really throw it open with a loud clang?

I have to go off and please my many masters now. And I have just started. I should just stop. What's the point. Life is wasted upon the young. A few horrors, unexpected, are good for them They only scoff at advice. They disregard all warnings. We'll see if I change my mind and return. If I survive the day and my fate.





Quote

I do not have time for foolishness. My relatives have commissioned the digging of my grave. A Halloween treat for themselves. That gives them the chance to sit back in anticipation after. They truly are connoisseurs of a kind.

All through my life they have set snares for me. The most deadly: the caskets of Amontillado. I can tell you with that urgency of the condemned man that you must never choose a nitre casket.

It was when I was young, and the world seemed fresh, easy and wonderful. Now as an old, paranoid miser... a thin legged skinflint... I feel only the cold icicle of death entering my withered heart. My thin, wan, bony ass cannot even stand a plump cushion for more than a few minutes. I writhe in my chair. Frequently rising to keep from shitting myself. Don't believe your pipes are forever copper, young whippersnapper.

Do you think the old man is here to give you candy? Fah, buck up and hold out your tin cup for dollops of steaming warm character instead.

Don't open strange caskets. Don't walk on the shady side of the street. Try to have some bearing as you wait for the light to cross. And put away your idiot phones as you walk about doing your pointless things.

Where was I? That day in October when I opened casket and sealed my doom Still gives me chills. Look at my shaking withered hand. Do you think I ever was young? Did I really throw it open with a loud clang?

I have to go off and please my many masters now. And I have just started. I should just stop. What's the point. Life is wasted upon the young. A few horrors, unexpected, are good for them They only scoff at advice. They disregard all warnings. We'll see if I change my mind and return. If I survive the day and my fate.









Women suck. That is all. Quote

They say: don't write what you don't know about.

They say: don't write if you don't have your glasses on.

They say. They say.

As the song goes: Don't ask me about the shape I'm in. Can't sing, ain't pretty and my legs are thin. Don't ask me what I think of you. I might not give you the answer you wan me to. Welelel.

I'm alive. It is a slow moving curse. But my relative commissioned grave gets deeper and deeper.

I doan wanna be buried. Damned relatives ain' t gonna listen to my funeral desires. I wanna be cremated. In open casket. As Mozart's Requiem plays. It is a damned shame that a man cannot choose the manner or celebration of his death. Buncha foolish ingrates gonna stand around shuffling their feet, bitching about the venue, taking liberties with my views and exploits. They don't know me! And they set up that curse.

They'll probably play ABBA... those degenerates. You can pick your friends... you can pick your enemies... but only the spiteful gods can choose your relatives.

Except your mate. You still, as you live and breathe, can choose your blessed mate. Don't squander that choice. Stand tall and proud. Don't let any other being influence that choice. It defines you. It is the channel that the river of your life will run through to paradise or ruin.

I know, like all beings, you are obsessing over something right this moment . Chances are you are worried about something that is trivial. You probably have fucked up priorities. It is not easy to choose the right path. See things as the really are. But try. Fight. Look back from a distance. There are big big rewards for thought. Simple clear eyed thought.

I do not go easily into that Night. The devil is gonna see a long shit streak on his carpet as he drags me off. And I may outwit my clan too. Go in flame to oblivion with Giovanni replacing Confutatis from my crafty snuck in symphony at just the right moment.

But the curse was woven well. With loving care. I do not hope to unravel it. But I tell you... a condemned man enjoys a soaring bliss that no other feels as all weights of worry fall off. As he gets to savor his last manly acts in this great saga.

Honor your ancestors, maggots. They marched to their fates boldly with jingling spurs. Horses long gone and f0rced to stand as proud bipeds against the Fury. gods bedeviling them to the very end. Corrupt whisps of malevolence done in by their own power. How superior is the temporary, animated clay to the rotted husk of the divine.

Nitre. If your casket is webbed with it... If noble Potassium has been nitrated... throw not open thy hinged box... flee the casket! You will fight again on some other battlefield. Choose from a better set.

Oh what visions I have seen year after year after tricked... seduced... doomed to bl00dy Nitre enduced coughing fits. Forever in chains of torment... walled in forever... by those whose duty is to protect. Ultimate betrayl. Hopes cut through by plotting daggers.

I won't bore you with the details. Just pass the essence during this season for things macabre. November will arrive. In the worst throes of it, for the living, for the uncursed though unwashed, November will come...


Quote

Women suck. That is all.


Nothing has changed.
Quote

Now is the winter of our discontent turned balmy summer by the arrival of November. Those spirits that plagued us f0rced to return to the underworld, while we remain up top to gobble turkey and pumpkin pie. Tough times never last... Death must abide... nitre give way to the gentle tickle of cotton candy.

While the earth still retains summer's heat... and warm rains do fall... the grave cleft out of stony, sandy ground fills and relatives disperse to wait for the right chance to try again.

Days grow short. Bodies adapt. Warm clothes pulled from closets are brushed clean.

May your weather hold well and your larder be stocked full. You will have time to reflect on your choices when winter brings snow and solitude. Take advantage of the off season to read your favorite casket digest and sing casket carols. Your destiny will be unsealed soon enough. You journey to full citizenship complete.

Enjoy bountiful harvest, pilgrim.
Quote

Richard III (future... now only Duke of Gloucester): Now this s0n of York must choose from these caskets that which holds Anne, the Kingmaker's daaughter. Though fled and leaving me to make my own kingship by dread industry: by sword, by plot, by sheer f0rce of will, his issue is still the key to a long and healthy reign.

I know her from old. No Tewksbury will cause a loss of those memories. Middleham, lovely Middleham, would life were simpler and we could return to those days. She will be merely Duchess of Gloucester who was once Princess of Wales... but these bl00dy days many seek stability and safe title to old lands... perhaps memories of golden days.

You marvel at my knowing at such an early date my destiny? To be king. Though so far away in the succession. You forget my history. My methods in winning, in gaining great renown. And observing the weakness and rashness of my kin.

You think I am wasting time now and likely to lose what may seem a one in four chance. But it is a sure thing. I know my lady. I knew immediately which box is hers. Even if I had forgotten her tastes and humor, I need only look on her as she observes the ceremony and notice her tells as I turn to one or another.

So this test. These caskets. Are just one more thing on a long road. A chance seen and taken.

If I fail in my heady ambitions. If my line tumbles to ruin. Know this. I did love Anne and would have given any thing for a simple life with her...



Quote