Pilgrim's Progress...Revisited (Part 2)

Part the Second

Christian Meets Evangelist

The next day, as the man walked in the fields, reading his Book and praying, he was approached by a man named Evangelist, who inquired as to the reason of the man's obvious distress.

Man: I am undone by the burden that weighs upon me!

Evangelist: Whence this burden?

Man: It was placed upon me after reading this excellent Book, sir.

Evangelist: And wherefore thy tears?

Man: Because I have read that I am doomed to die, and afterward be brought to judgment for my transgressions while upon this world; and I know not whither to go.

Evangelist: Then tarry not a moment longer, and fly from here toward yonder light; there you will find a narrow gate. Knock thee thereon, and thou shalt be told what to do. Keep the light foremost in thine eye, and thy feet stray not from the course. Hie!

The man set forth at run, joyous that he might be relieved of the burden so heavy upon him. As he ran, the townfolk came out to see him; some jeered him, some smiled in amusement, some shook their heads and mumbled; very few beheld him thoughtfully.

Yet there were some who brake from the crowd, and elected to accompany Christian (for this was the man's name) on his travels. They were Ostrich, Polly The Izzim, and Academician. They hailed him, and inquired of him if they might escort him whither he went, to which Christian replied This road is open to all, whosoever may choose to follow it to its terminus; but this road will be all the easier to tread if thou but follow the directions mapped out in this Book. And with this, he allowed all to view the Book.

Christian's Conversation with Ostrich

Ostrich: Ah, Christian. I see that we are fellows well met. I, too, enjoy a good story! This Book I have perused before, although I must admit at a somewhat cursory pace. But it is indeed a marvellous piece of fiction, representative of all good moral tales and fables such as was read to me as a boy; yea, I would place this book in a place of honor next to my volume of Aesop.

Christian: What sayest thou, Ostrich? Hast thou not had the words therein penetrate thee? Dost thou not recognize Truth, naked and unalloyed, permeating every word set upon the page? Here is the key to thy Salvation, laid out in plain fashion, awaiting but thy confession of faith.

Ostrich: And what have I to be saved from?

Christian: All will come to ruin, and the world and all who live upon it will be destroyed with a fire to last for eternity, lest ye heed the prescription found within the Book.

Ostrich: Surely thou say these things in jest, good Christian. I have eyes that see, ears that hear, and senses that touch all given up to me by this world; yet, I do not perceive the impending calamity of which thou speakest. The sun ariseth in its customary place every morning, and I wake upon its dawning. I eat of the bounty of my fields, I work the day long to provide for me and mine. The world offers me sustenance, and beauty, and I take what is given unto me gladly and with a thankful heart. Verily, there are misfortunes and circumstances of a tragic nature that hath beset me; but after every storm the sun shall scatter the clouds, and so hath it been thus with me. I am full of life, yet my days shall eventually reach an end, and I shall be planted deep so that my decomposition shall yield the greatest benefit to the earth which shall surround me, and my life shall be part of other life which feedeth off my bones, and they shall yield their lives to others stronger and with greater hunger; yea, I shall live on parceled out within all life that will succeed me; and this is the way of the world eternal.

Christian: Thou hast been misled, good Ostrich. I beseech thee, read this good Book with open heart and mind, and blind thyself not to its Message. The world hath deceived thee, with its carnal pleasures that satisfy the flesh, but not the spirit. For it is this spirit, thy soul, whereby Life is defined, and not the numbered days of thy worldly existence. Thou sayest that thy life is assimilated by other forms that feed upon thy rotting flesh; how bitter the thought that we, who was given dominion over every living thing that moveth upon the earth,¹ should be nothing but fodder for the worms when we have shed the fetters of this earthly life. Die in the flesh we must but we are promised Eternal Life beyond this world, and this Book reveals how we are to gain it; but thou must understand that this Eternal Life cannot be obtained through any worldly means. Verily, this good Book proclaims if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die². Change thy ways, good Ostrich, I beseech thee; for it is also written that to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace³.

Ostrich: I fear 'tis thee who hath been beguiled, dearest Christian; and that by mere words in a book. I have read many books, from the physick to the philosophy; and have had the good sense to separate the fiction from the reality. My heart weeps for you Christian, who hath mistaken the plot devices of a morality tale for truth, rather than the principle the tale imparts. For thy book doth have merit, once one condenses and digests the superfluity of words to reveal the germ of moral virtue, such as Love Thy Neighbor⁴. But nevertheless, a book is all it is, written by men such that lived ages ago, who saw the need to remind us all that we are capable of lofty ideals and good works; and thus this parable was born.

Christian: Weep not for me, Ostrich, but let thy tears wash away the stain of sin that lays like soot upon your soul. Lifteth thy head out of the belly of the earth and to the heavens, and upraise thy hands and heart and beg forgiveness for thy sins, which hath covered thine eyes with scales, and plated thy heart with brimstone.

To Be Continued

Pilgrim's Progress Revisited: An Allegory in the Manner of Bunyan, Updated for 21st Century Readers by
Mitchell Emeric is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Pilgrims Progress...Revisited

Part the First

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted upon a place of repose found commonly throughout these parts; a place where many a weary traveller have found respite, mayhaps as well the remains of an evening singlewoman who, plying her trade with a man loth to give over his wages and wroth for her poor performance, was quartered and laid to rest betwixt mattress and boxspring. Having fumigated the bedclothes with Lysol to ensure no pestilence would impose upon my weakened constitution, I fell into a fitful slumber. I dreamed, and beheld a man dressed in the manner of those bereft of élan, having not the fanciful dress of the fashionable of the day, but rather plainly attired. And his brow was unpluckt, and his eyes unlined by the paint that the denizens of the city Metrosexual so favour. He held in his hands a Book, and as he read, his carriage seemed to cave in upon itself, as if a great weight were placed upon his back. So burdened, he set himself upon his knees and cast his gaze heavenward, and in a voice trembling and crack'd with sorrow, implored What shall I do?
And I saw the man turn and head toward his home, with many a troubled thought for company. Before entering his house, he paused upon the threshold and, his spirits notwithstanding, he cloaked himself with cheerful demeanor, that his family may not see his suffering and have their spirits depressed; so fortified, he entered withal. But midway through the evening meal, his cloak having frayed until threadbare, his torment was revealed and his heart laid bare. In a piteous voice he exclaimed I am undone! He made plain to his family that he feared for their very lives, having had the revelation that their city would be consumed, and all within, by a fire from Heaven; and death would be certain lest he find a means of salvation. His wife, concerned that their neighbors might overhear his lamentations, and with unbearable scrutiny proceed to whisper amongst themselves that her husband hath been struck daft, stopped his tongue by means of a dishrag well placed and a smart rap to the noggin with a gravy boat. His daughter, foreseeing the wagging tongues and hushed murmurs behind outward-facing palms at her school, turned crimson and burst into tears; she hastened to her room, crying aloud in a shrill voice I hate thee! repeatedly. His son, younger in years than his sibling, yet for all that crediting himself the wiser, responded to his father's distress by voicing his opinion of the matter, expressed by a noisy and noisome flatus delivered with obvious relish. Having issued this eloquent declamation, the son arose with grave countenance, and retired to his chamber. Such was the son's philosophical dissertation of his father's plight, as well as of all that is contained in the Heavens above and the Earth below.



Pilgrim's Progress Revisited: An Allegory in the Manner of Bunyan, Updated for 21st Century Readers by
Mitchell Emeric is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Portents

On the last day of the year 2006, in a small insulated little Florida town, there was a party in progress at the home of the eldest K---- sister. A collection of revelers related by family ties, celebrating the passing of a so-so year and the onset of a hopefully better one. There was music, dance, and drink...there was laughter, conversation, and song. There was also a waxing gibbous moon, bright and casting a harsh luminescence. It was also surrounded by a halo. A perfect circle formed by the trailing edge of a feathery cloud bank, and by the reflection of moisture in the atmosphere. I was there, and I was enraptured by the sight. What a strange phenonomenon, and at such a time as this. What could it possibly mean? Being an intelligent and reasonable man, I could only reach one conclusion...Armageddon! It was the coming of the Messiah, and I was staring at the portal where the Beast would emerge. Sure enough, the moon was soon tinged with scarlet, and the heavens boiled. Death emerged astride a pale poodle, breathing fire and dropping ferocious fleas that swarmed and feasted upon the blood of the flock. Then followed the Four Horsemen; John, Paul, George and Ringo. They were pissed, having found out that Michael Jackson still owned the rights to their song library. Then followed seven strumpets; they were absolutely HOT. Then the seven vials were broken, creating a mess upon the Earth. There were no broomsmen to clean it up. It all made for a very poor party indeed, what with the End Days and all. I went home, and didn't even sick up my dinner.

Time Capsule

Happy Holidays, everybody! One of the Christmas presents I received this year was a framed poem that I had submitted to the Dade County Youth Fair in my 4th grade year. This was the first poem that I remember writing. I didn't win a prize because it did not conform to the specifed format for poems (hmm...maybe they just said that to make me feel better...). Anyway, it is an interesting read and insight into the 10 year-old boy that I was.

The Land of No Trouble

(March 1977)

The Land of No Trouble,

That's where everyone wants to go,

Where you're free to do anything,

Where trouble exists no more.

The day is sunny,

The grass is green,

No trouble at all,

None to be seen.

People smiling, happy and gay,

Smilng at this glorious, beautiful day.

The ruler of the land, plump and jolly,

Was covered with flowers, roses and holly.

He loved to dance,

He loved to sing,

He loved to do everything,

Even wear rings! But very far away,

as far as you can think,

There lived a bad queen,

A real rotten fink!

She had a bushel of slaves, both black and white,

She made them work hard, both day and night.

She hated the Land of No Trouble,

Despised it she did,

That whenever she bellowed,

Her slaves ran and hid.

So as time passed on,

She got disgusted too much,

She set a curse upon the land,

and they were scared such!

The sky was black,

Thunder would roar!

They pulled down the shades,

And locked all the doors.

The Land of No Trouble,

Was now filled with gloom,

The Land of No Trouble,

Was now for its doom.

A Satire

I work for a man that sends unintelligible dreck via e-mail and expects his employees to understand them. This satire was written in his honor...

LEA - A critical look at the new lingua franca of business
By Mitchell Emeric, Professor of Linguistics, Howyadoin University


Today’s businessman faces extraordinary challenges in effectively communicating critical information to an often geographically dispersed and multi-cultural body of employees. Business at the speed-of-light requires the business owner to quickly convey his thoughts and directives as fast as the synaptic potential occurs in the brain’s axodendritic structures. In the past, many business owners have struggled with this problem, especially when the medium involved is electronic mail (henceforth referred to as “e-mail”). This particular form of communication has been the bane of the businessman concerned with efficiency and time-management. Studies have found that the average medium-sized business owner spends 16.7330209 minutes a day composing and reading e-mail. In real dollars, this represents a sizeable annual loss of $579...clearly, this is unacceptable. Studies conducted at the University of Bora-Bora have shown that it takes (on average) .00936 seconds for the finger to depress a computer key after the initial firing of the axon. Taking this information to its logical conclusion, it should be apparent that this represents a huge potential for time wasted, especially when e-mailing information that may contain hundreds of alpha-numeric characters (all of which are members of an equally inefficient 26-letter alphabet). This tragic scenario is all too real for many business-owners.
But do not despair. One man has taken the initiative to ameliorate this situation, and has become the messiah of efficient communication through his clever implementation of a grammar based on expediency. I am speaking of Grassy Lea of course, and his brain-child “LEA”. This form of communication has taken the world of commerce by storm, and has become the de-facto standard of electronic communication. Elegantly simple, yet possessing the intricate qualities of semantics, syntax, grammar and morphology like that of it’s more bloated brethren, this language is truly a wonder to behold. Rather than approach this subject in dry, analytical fashion, I have decided to jump right in and let the beauty of the language speak for itself...or,

I dcd toilet spkself

Stunning, isn’t it? One can sense the almost ethereal, unearthly quality that pervades this wonderfully pared-down grammatical gem. It is inconceivable that the business world suffered for so long without this tool. Jorgensen Gundersen Smith, President and CEO of Pretty Prophylactics, Inc., was faced with a sticky situation. He needed to address the problem of petty employee theft that was costing him thousands annually. The corporate attorneys had drafted a sixteen-page report of the problem, and Jorgensen needed to convey his concerns and implement an actionable policy of prevention and penalty; however, he needed to do this in such a way as to not offend the sensibilities of his more honest employees, and also couch it in neutral terms that would not land him in a legal wrangle should a disgruntled employee decide to take him to task for false accusations of theft. Rather than resort to the antiquated Old World methods of using plain English, Jorgensen decided to use LEA. He succeeded in conveying all the nuances without all the detritus of wasted words inherent in English. The full text of his message follows:

STO PPITNoW

Even now, tears run freely down my face whenever I read Jorgensen’s wonderful missive.

The world has been waiting for millennia for a man like Grassy Lea and his business solution. Will YOU be one of the successful millions to implement this solution for your business, and save yourself time and money? It’s a no-brainer.

Sigh! An explanation...

I have removed my story for the time being at the suggestion of a couple of people I respect very much. Their feeling is that having the story on the public domain invites plagiarists to steal my ideas and maybe profit from them as their own. I don't know how to answer that. I have read some really great stuff on the web, notably from Queenie (thanks for the vote of confidence!), so I guess there are those who have no fear of publishing their own creative labors of love. I dunno. But with my crappy luck, I thought that maybe it was the best thing to do. So now I am at a loss with what to do with this blog...any ideas?

Why I am doing this...

Because Maria is making me. She thinks that I have a talent for writing, and I think I don't. I believe that I am an excellent mimic, and that I can be very erudite and scholarly sounding, but I really don't know my ass from my elbow. But then again, I am not the most objective person in the world when it comes to assessing my abilities, am I? So, I am going to give it a chance. Maybe it will prove therapeutic. Maybe it will help sharpen my steadily dulling wits. I dunno. I really don't know how to write a short story, maybe I will just post whatever crap comes out of my head. Good Lord, I am already stressing (anal s.o.b. that I am).