Cursed dolls and cursed land

Here we are at Week 13 of the More Odds than Ends writing prompts. My prompt for the second week in a row came from Leigh Kimmel. And the prompt I submitted went to Kat Ross. My prompt: Warning that certain ground is sacred or accursed; that a house or city must not be built upon it—or must be abandoned or destroyed if built, under penalty of catastrophe. This struck me as something Jack, the free-lance curse breaker, might run across. In fact, one of his clients just might have given him this puzzle to solve.

*****

Walking carefully across the neglected yard, Jack surveyed the clearly abandoned house. Toys lay on the front porch as if they had been dropped in the middle of play. An Adirondack rocking chair shifted slightly. The front door was closed, but the screen door swung lazily back and forth in the slight breeze. Captain whined and leaned into Jack’s leg his tail firmly pressed between his back legs. Jack glanced down at Captain’s whine and stopped, surveying the empty house.

“What is it boy? What are you getting?” Jack whispered to the big German shepherd.

Captain whined again and crouched down. Jack leaned down and keeping his eyes on the house released the leash clip. If anything happened, he figured Captain would make it back home and Monica would bring help.

He slowly straightened up and studied the house. It seemed empty, but something wasn’t quite right. There was a heavy, watchful feeling about it. He was exceedingly happy he had decided to investigate in the bright light of midday. He just had a feeling that any other time with little to no sunlight would be treacherous.

“Come on, boy,” he said to Captain and made his way back down the walkway and through the little gate at the sidewalk. The dog followed right on his heels. Stepping through the gate he carefully closed and latched it before looking up at the house again. Standing on the sidewalk he felt better, and Captain was no longer whining, but his tail was still down, and his eyes never left the little house.

Reaching a decision, Jack crossed the street. Only then did he raise his camera to his eye and focus its lens on the house. The camera had surprised him the other day with its ability to show things that the unaided human eye could not. He made sure he took several shots of the house, zooming in and with a wider angle. He put the camera back in his bag without looking at the digital images. Clipping the leash back on Captain, he turned and walked to the end of the block where he had left his car. Time to go home and do some research on the house.

Back in his office, Jack pulled the camera out of his bag and plugged it in to his computer to download the photos. Captain whined once and retreated into the main part of the house. Jack could hear Monica talking to the dog in a soothing tone and the sound of kibble pouring into the metal bowl. He turned back to the computer, took a deep breath and opened the first photo.

Staring at the picture, Jack’s jaw dropped. The yard and the front porch of the house showed at least ten shades wandering about. Not only was the house haunted, it was filled with ghosts. Monica came up behind him.

“What the hell? Where is that?” She stared at the photo on the screen.

“It’s that house on 47th; the one that’s been empty for about a year. That guy cursed in the troll doll, Geoffrey, wrote down that address for me, but he didn’t want to say anything about it. I don’t know why there are so many shades there, but I guess I’ll find out.” Jack looked up at his wife. “This is getting uglier.”

“No kidding. Please be careful.” She gave him a brief kiss on the top of his head and went back into the kitchen.

Jack pulled up his browser window and typed in the address of the house. “Holy shit,” he muttered when the search results came up. “That explains it.”

The first link on the search page was a two-year old news story on the developer who was building a house on a lot that was long thought to be cursed. According to the news story, someone had once tried to build a house on that lot over a seventy years ago. That family had been gruesomely murdered one night, but no culprit had ever been found. No one had wanted to buy the house after that, and the original house had fallen into disrepair and rumors it was haunted had followed. The story around the house grew to the point where people said it had been cursed even before the first house was build, but nobody knew why. Eventually, the city had torn down what was left of the house, and the lot had remained empty until two years ago when the developer in question had decided that weird local stories were causing a perfectly good piece of property to go to waste. He’d bought the lot from the city for a song (they didn’t want it either), ignored all the warnings from the locals and built his house. A year later, he and his family had fled in terror.

Jack raked his hands through his hair. Somehow this was connected to curses he had been breaking recently. But he was at a loss to explain it.

He shut down the computer, saving the photos to a separate thumb drive and detaching that drive from his computer. No point in risking anything. He carefully closed his office door and walked into the kitchen where Monica was making dinner.

“Crap.” He sat down and put his head in his hands. “That house was cursed, and it’s haunted. Now I just have to figure out the connection between it and the dolls. Why did Geoffrey give me that address and why wouldn’t he say anything about it?” He groaned.

Monica pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, opened it and set the bottle in front of him.

“Have a drink, we’ll eat dinner and then work on this puzzle.”

“Thanks. You’re the best,” Jack sighed.

******

I really have to write this whole story. There are missing bits between what is serialized here. I’ve got a series idea for this…percolating, percolating…

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

Old Books

My Week 12 prompt came from Leigh Kimmel: Peculiar odour of a book of childhood induces repetition of childhood fancy. My prompt went to Fiona Grey. Once again I have been working on getting my classes up (mostly) on line. We start back up again tomorrow. I was looking over the prompt assignments and thinking about mine when this just hit me. I didn’t even have a book in mind when I started and the title of this one just jumped out at me. For your reading pleasure (I hope), I give you…

Old Books

I was going through all the books in my parents’ place. Our whole family were readers and my parents were the ones who started my brother and I down that path. But my God did my folks have a lot of books!

I paused as I walked into the guest room. One wall held three tall bookshelves filled to overflowing. There were books stacked on top of books, books stacked on top of the bookshelves, books piled on the floor next to the bookshelves. This used to be my room and many of the books were from my childhood. The books on the floor were my dad’s that he’d obviously piled there for lack of space anywhere else. I grabbed a box and walked over to the nearest bookshelf. Yep. These were all my books. This was going to take a while.

I started on the very top of the shelf so that those books balanced up there wouldn’t fall off. Those were Dad’s. I briefly glanced over the spines – history, archaeology, physics, transportation – Dad had eclectic interests.

The top shelf held books from my early childhood, Mother Goose, Beatrix Potter, and others. There was also a strange but fun thing called The Space Child’s Mother Goose which my Dad had given me when I was little. I was definitely keeping that one. I sat down on the chair with the book and opened it up. Immediately I was hit by that smell. For some reason the book had always had an odd, not bad, but odd, smell.

As I read through the verses I was transported back to my earliest memories. My Dad reading the silly verses in the book which were all based on Mother Goose rhymes but with the giddy feeling that humans were just a year away from exploring the stars. I wanted to go meet Little Miss Muffett who’s force field around the tuffett kept the spider away. I was fascinated by Bo-Peep’s lost sheep meeting in parallel space “preceding their leaders behind them.”

“Um…” a voice came from the doorway. I looked up to see my brother standing there. “We need to finish this…what are you looking at?”

I held up the book and he broke out into a big grin. “I remember that book! You’re keeping it, right?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Do you mind if I keep it?” I really wanted to have that book near me again, but it was a part of both of our childhoods.

“Sure. It was yours really. I can always hunt around to see if I can find another copy.”

I smiled. “I’ll let you read it when you come visit.” I put the book down in the box that was going back to my house.

******

*It’s a real book, The Space Child’s Mother Goose by Fredrick Winsor and illustrated by Marian Parry, Simon & Schuster, 1958. I absolutely love it.

Image by Mystic Art Design from Pixabay

Cursed Dolls

For the Week 11 prompt I received the following from Cedar Sanderson: You have a new camera. When you look at the photos you took that day, you see the lens captured more than you intended. My prompt went to nother Mike. It’s been a seriously busy week as the university is transitioning to online teaching and that means I have to get everything into a digital format, uploaded and ready to go. Along with making sure all the technology is working (alas no virtual Zoom backgrounds for me…guess I’ll have to clean up the office behind my desk). This is short, but adds to my cursed doll universe which is still deciding where it wants to go and what it wants to be when it grows up.

*****

Jack sighed and looked down at the latest dog with a doll sitting outside his office door. His office was in his home but had its own entrance at the side of the house. As a freelance curse-breaker, he was grateful for the ability to work from home. Beyond the 10 second commute, it allowed his clients some privacy when they visited as they didn’t have to walk through any offices or other public areas to see him.

Lately though, a string of dogs bringing in dolls which turned out to be cursed magic-workers had him on edge. The initial pattern was the same every time. A small tapping or knocking at either the front door or the office door, a dog, and a doll with a note. The last doll was the first one to identify who had cursed her and that had shockingly ended her life. Her German Shepherd, Captain, had come to live with Jack and his wife Monica after that tragedy and Jack was now fully committed to discovering just what the hell was going on.

This time, it was a Corgi standing behind an oversized troll doll. Captain trotted up behind Jack and sniffed noses with the Corgi. Both tails wagged briefly before the Corgi looked back up at Jack and whined. Jack sighed again, gently picked up the doll and stepped back to let the Corgi into the office. An idea struck him, and he grabbed his camera off his desk. He had just purchased it a few days ago intending to expand on his gardening photography. I should take before and after photos of the dolls and dogs and see if there’s a pattern there.

He set the doll down on the floor next to the Corgi. “I’m going to take a picture so that there’s a record of your arrival. You’re the fourth one in about two weeks, and I want to see if I can figure out the pattern, OK?” He didn’t expect an answer from the doll, but the dog gave a small yip which he took as permission.

“OK, boy. Sit. Excellent. Good boy!” The Corgi lay down next to the doll and Jack got down on the floor to take his shot.

Climbing back to his feet, he checked the digital screen for the picture. His jaw dropped, and he thumbed the zoom feature to get a closer look.

“Holy crap!” He stared at the now enlarged photo. The outline of a man could be seen encased inside the troll doll. It looked almost like an x-ray. What the…??

He turned the camera over again and stared at it. It looked like an ordinary digital camera. What the hell was going on?

******

Image by Busink29 from Pixabay

Don’t Panic!

Are you panicked about coronavirus yet? Why not?? You should and you shouldn’t. It’s getting more difficult to decide what is overblown panic and what is realistic precautionary information. Should you <b>plan</b> on being quarantined? What if you have to? How do you plan for that? The whole situation is scary, uncertain, and seemingly constantly changing. But, I think with the most recent announcements by the president, namely the collaboration between the private sector and the feds to distribute and conduct the testing for COVID-19 will give us more realistic numbers, and give the number crunchers and those who have to respond to the numbers, far more accurate information. The key to damping down the panic is accurate information and we haven’t had much of that since before China announced that this virus. My plea to everybody is please don’t panic.

It’s a very weird dynamic, I must admit. On FB, I’ve seen a lot of my friends insisting that either we’re so complacent that we will all be dead by Easter and the world will end. At the other end of the spectrum, there are those who are absolutely certain that the whole thing is a hoax, or at least so completely overblown that anybody saying it’s a bad flu should be ashamed of themselves. My take is that rational people recognize it’s somewhere in-between, but I will say I lean toward the it’s not really as bad as we’re being told it is by the media. Remember, the media, no matter how sophisticated they like to portray themselves as, are governed by the mantra “if it bleeds, it leads.” In other words, they <b>like</b> the sensational, emotion-inducing headlines. Dramatic pictures of empty store shelves, long checkout lines, etc. These all contribute to that feeling that society is thisclose to collapsing. And they’re gonna be with you every step of the way through that collapse.

My university has gone all on line for classes as of yesterday in response to some of this fear-mongering. We have a week to gear up and become functional in an on line environment. I understand why the decision was made. And, honestly, I’m looking forward to the increased flexibility in my days. But, at the same time, I think that it was something of an overreaction. It came in response to the cancellation of the NBA, NHL, MLB, and NCAA seasons. It’s as if the president and board of trustees said, “Oh, crap. If the NBA is shutting down, we should too.” I mean, between Wednesday afternoon and Wednesday night, everything changed dramatically. I’m just happy I’m not in administration and dealing with the logistics of all of this. Now, I just have to record my lectures.

But seriously. It’s a bit surreal. I went out for a long walk this afternoon. There were a lot of people out. Groups of friends, couples, individuals like me. All kinds of people out, living their lives, out and about. Not isolated, not quietly staying inside and avoiding all human contact. The world keeps going, and life goes on. Compare that to the grocery store this morning. Insanely long lines, carts piled high with 10s of things, panic-buying all the things. There was no meat, no frozen anything, and of course, no TP (what the hell is up with that anyway??) But the contrast was telling. Me, I’m going with continuing on with life and not giving in to panic.

Seriously. STOP PANICKING! That is what’s causing so many of the problems. Just stop. We’re not being confined to our homes, we’re not going to lose power or water. Do your usual grocery shopping. Buy your usual amount of TP. Go for a walk. Play with your kids in the park. And, for my students, do your class work. Me, I’m going to keep putting my classes on line, and post reminders to myself to check in with them from time to time (kidding…I’ll be there on line, every day).

OK, so this was a bit of a rambling post. But, please don’t panic. We’ll be fine. Testing is increasing. Trump has done the right thing in partnering with the private sector to get tests out and available to everybody. (I know that a number of my friends will screech at that comment, but it’s true. This is the right thing to do. Try not to let your hatred for the man cloud your judgment on actions taken.)

Take care, stay healthy, wash your hands, and avoid panic.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Forensic Magic

Another week, another prompt from More Odds Than Ends. My week 10 prompt: Forensic analysis revealed… came from Fiona Grey Writes. It’s a continuation of my cursed dolls series that seems to be writing itself here on the blog.

Forensic Magic

Jack sighed and looked down at his porch. This was the third time in two weeks. Yet another dog carrying yet another doll had showed up on his doorstep. What the hell is going on? This is way more than one cranky witch.

The dog, a big German Shepherd this time, gave a small bark that turned into a whine. Jack let the dog sniff his hand before bending all the way down to pick up the doll.

“I know, buddy. I know. Come on inside and let’s see what we got.”

“Monica!” he yelled up the staircase. “I got another one! Can you feed the dog, please?”

He heard Monica running down from the second floor. “What the hell is going on? This is, what? The third one? That is not normal.”

In the kitchen, Jack made sure the dog got water while Monica dug out their remaining dog food. Their own dog had died about six months earlier and they had never gotten around to donating all the leftover food. Good thing, too. If this keeps up, we’ll need to actually buy more.

Jack looked for a note on the doll. The first two had managed to write a note with a short description of what had happened to them. Neither of them had managed to tell him who, exactly, had cursed them and shoved their spirit into a doll, and the first one, Renee Detweiler, had said that she couldn’t tell him. There had been spark of fear in her eyes and he had let the matter drop. Now, though…now, he was going to have to find her and get some information. This was too strange of a pattern to let it slide.

He found a small scrap of paper stuck in a pocket on the apron the doll was wearing. This doll looked a little bit like that famous ragdoll with the red hair. At least the apron had real pockets. He pulled the note out and unfolded the tiny piece of paper.

Hello,

My name is Susan Blackwell. As you can probably tell, I’ve been cursed into this doll. I’ve been told you can help me. The woman who did it is named Camilia Sharpe. She works with another woman, Armina Grove. They’re doing this to anybody who they feel is in their way. Even if you cannot get me out of this doll and back into my own form, please alert the Witches Council. Whatever it is, can’t be good. Oh, my dog is called Captain. Please take care of him.

Jack stared at the piece of paper. Great. His name was being bandied about among one group of witches or magic users who were getting on the wrong side of at least two witches who were then turning everybody into dolls.

“Monica, honey, I think this is going to get very weird and possibly very bad before it’s all over. Make sure you strengthen the wards around the house and yard as soon as possible. Like after you feed the dog. Oh, and his name’s Captain.” He looked up at his wife. Monica turned from feed Captain and stared at Jack.

“OK. I just did that a couple weeks ago, but I’ll double check. What’s going on?”

Jack nodded toward the doll. “This one, Susan Blackwell, named names and apparently my name is being passed around as a good curse-breaker. I mean I’m flattered, but still…” he trailed off.

“That will bring us some unwanted, probably nasty attention.” Monica finished for him.

“Yeah. OK, let’s get going.”

Jack took the doll and the dog into the living room. He grabbed a piece of paper and a small pencil and set them and the doll on the coffee table.

“I’m going to leave you here and go back into the kitchen. Please write down as much as you remember about the curse used on you and then send Captain in to get me. This way, I’ll be able to more quickly and easily break the curse.” He nodded to the doll, gave Captain a scratch on the ears, and went back into the kitchen. He considered pouring himself a stiff drink, but settled for sparkling water. I can drink after I break this curse. I’ll probably need it. He sighed and sat down at the table to wait for Captain.

Not two minutes after sitting down, Jack heard a sharp sound, like a shot almost, followed by frenzied barking coming from the living room. He dashed in to find the doll broken in half and Captain barking madly at a spot just behind the doll.

“OK, OK. Calm down, boy. Captain. Shhh.” Jack tried to quiet the dog and simultaneously assess the doll. In fact, this was likely fatal. Shit.

Monica came running in from the back yard at that point. “What happened? I just finished checking and reinforcing…oh, shit.” She said when she saw the doll.

“Yeah. I’m taking the doll and Captain and going to visit Rob. He’ll be able to tell me what happened.”

“OK. Please be careful. It’s possible that whoever detonated that spell, knew she was coming here.” Monica’s tone was worried, but she gave him a quick hug and carefully picked up the two halves of the doll and put them together in a small, decorative basket. Jack headed out the door with the basket, followed by Captain.

An hour later, Rob came back into the small foyer of the ME’s lab. His face was grim.

“Jack, I’m sorry. My forensic analysis shows that there is no animating spirit in this doll. The spell was designed to trigger when she was in your house. I don’t think it was meant to hurt you or Monica, though.”

Jack stared at him. “Shit. Now, it’s murder by witches. I’ll have to get a hold of the Witches Council.”

Rob nodded slowly.

Jack looked down at Captain, sitting next to his chair, and rubbed his head. “Well, boy. I guess your new home is with us. I’m really sorry.”

Captain whined and leaned against Jack’s leg.

*******

Thanks for reading! And, please do check out More Odds Than Ends for a good group of writers and some fun prompts.

Image by Emmanuel Lefebvre from Pixabay

Eagles soar

Here we are at Week 9 for the prompt at More Odds than Ends. Wow. Over two months of writing prompts. I’m pretty impressed with my consistency. I’m also impressed with my own writing. This week’s prompt came from Kat Ross. It was this:

Like I said with last week’s prompt, who knew I could write? Anyway, this piece is short, but came “straight from the heart” as they say. My parents are buried in Washington Crossing National Cemetery in Newtown, Pennsylvania. It is indeed, about two miles from the actual national park where Washington launched the boats into the ice of the Delaware River heading for Trenton and a Christmas surprise for the British and Hessians.

Eagles Soar

Standing on the Pennsylvania side looking out over the Delaware River, I tried to imagine what it looked like that Christmas night almost 300 years ago when Washington snuck up on the British forces in Trenton. I stared up at the clear blue sky thinking how pleased Dad would be to know that this was his final resting place. Washington Crossing National Cemetery is about two miles from the spot where Washington did indeed cross the Delaware River. As a former Army major and history buff, Dad had a deep appreciation for the history of this country.

As I stared into the sky, remembering and mourning, a distant speck on the horizon grew bigger. As the dark speck in the sky came closer, I saw a lone bald eagle soaring above the river. It banked and headed in the general direction of the cemetery behind me.

Mike put his arm around me, and we turned to head back to the car.

“I miss you, Pop. Love you.” I whispered. Mike squeezed my shoulder.

*****

Thanks for reading.

Photo by Becky Jones: Delaware River at Washington’s Crossing

More Odds Than Ends Prompt – Week 8

It’s Week 8 of the More Odds than Ends prompts. Being a part of these eight weeks of prompts has been a voyage of self-discovery for me. Who knew I had the ability to write stories? Not me! I am having so much fin with these prompts and this new path for me.

So, here for your reading pleasure is my contribution to the Week 8 prompts. I got my prompt from Sanford Begley: Guy buys a funny looking fish tank at ye old curiosity shop. Takes it home and fills it with water. When it shows no signs of leaking he goes out and buys some goldfish. Comes home and sees the bottom of the tank brighter and more decorated. assumes that the water washed enough dust off to account for the change. Dumps the fish in and sits down with a cup of coffee. Kerplunk, something splashes his coffee. Looks down and there is an unhappy goldfish looking back. Glances up at the tank and sees another goldfish loaded in a catapult…

***************

Mark backed up a couple steps and looked carefully in the window of the vintage thrift shop. Yep, it was a fish tank. Looked kinda funky, with an odd sheen to the glass even under a coating of dust. Assuming it didn’t leak, it would be the perfect addition to his living room. Low maintenance, stress-relieving, very little extra work. He considered fish to be the perfect pets.

The bell jangled as he pushed open the door and walked into the shop. An old man, unkempt white hair billowing around his head, scurried in from the back.

“Good afternoon, sir! May I help you find something?” His voice was at the high end of the scale, but not unbearable.

“Good afternoon. Yes, please. How much is that fish tank over there?” Mark had hoped to get a closer look before committing, but that was not to be apparently.

“Oh, well. Yes, that’s a nice piece. It’s 25 dollars, sir. Are you planning on using it as a fish tank? I do not have any of the equipment for that…” the old gentleman trailed off looking a bit uneasy.

“That’s fine. I have all of that. I’ll take the tank.”

“Very well, sir. May I recommend that you let it sit with water for a few days before adding any fish? There may be some reactions once it’s been cleaned out.” The old man stared at him intently.

Mark nodded, but he was puzzled. What kind of reactions could glass have with water? It was a perfectly ordinary looking fish tank. It did have that odd sheen to the glass, but that was probably just because it was old.

Once back at home, Mark rinsed and cleaned the tank in the laundry room sink. He placed it on the kitchen table on top of a couple of old dish towels. If it leaked, it wouldn’t cause any problems. He filled it with water and left for his midday shift at the restaurant.

After a busy and stressful shift, damn, it’s a diner, not a Michelin 5-star restaurant! Why do people have to be so picky?, he finally got home at midnight. A glow caught his eye before he turned on the light as he walked in the front door. It was coming from the laundry room. What’s that?  

Mark walked into the laundry room to check on the fish tank. The cleaning had obviously done it some good; the glass was clear and the odd sheen was even brighter, and made the whole tank glow with suffused colors. He rinsed out the water wiped it down and added more water. So far, no leaking, but he’d see what things looked like in the morning. Just for fun, he added in the castle and a couple of fake plants he’d bought to decorate the tank for its future occupants.

The next day he decided it was safe to use the tank and went out to buy some goldfish. He was looking forward to setting up the tank and enjoying the peaceful experience of watching his fish.

Returning home, he put the baggie with the fish in it into the kitchen sink and went to fetch the tank out of the laundry room. Wait a minute. Did that castle have shiny gold paint on it? He shrugged. Must not have noticed it before. He carried the full tank into the living room, set up the aerator and went to get the goldfish. After he introduced the goldfish to their new home, he sat down with a cup of coffee to enjoy the serenity.

SPLOOSH.

Coffee splashed out of his cup and onto his shirt. Jumping up, he was startled to see a struggling goldfish in the hot coffee. He quickly scooped the poor thing out and dumped it into a glass of water he’d left on the coffee table earlier. He turned back to the fish tank and saw a small catapult. Standing next to the catapult, holding a struggling goldfish was something that looked like…a sea monkey?? Those aren’t real!?!

The creature turned and stared at him as it heaved the second goldfish into the bucket of the catapult. Another one was winding back the arm of the catapult. Where the hell did they come from?

“Wait! I’ll take the fish out! Don’t hurt them!” Mark wasn’t sure why he was so worried about the goldfish, but he didn’t really want any more fish flying around the living room. He grabbed the small net and fished out the remaining two goldfish and added them to the water glass. The first sea monkey nodded once and the two creatures disappeared back into the castle.

Mark shook his head, staring at the seemingly empty fish tank. I’ll figure it out later. He looked at the three fish in the water glass.

“OK, guys. Sorry about that. Let’s go look for that old fishbowl and I’ll get you a new tank…from the pet store…in the morning.” Was it his imagination, or did the fish look grateful?

*************

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Socialism vs. social democracy

Every now and then, the PhD in political science comes in handy. By that I mean, I’ve read some really boring, esoteric, random stuff that goes into a great deal of detail on just about every obscure political thing you can think of. In my master’s program, I took a class on Marx. An entire semester. Read everything the man wrote. All of it. Taught by a Marxist feminist. So, I have a pretty good idea of what his ideas were and where they end up when taken to their logical conclusion.

I’ve also read a whole lot about a bunch of different regime types and ideologies. Liberal democracy, social democracy, electoral democracy, authoritarian dictatorships, fascism, feminism, communism, socialism, gawd…the list goes on and on.

All of this brings me to my main argument here today. Namely, democratic socialism and social democracy ARE NOT THE SAME THING!!

Wait, you say. Yes, they are! I saw a Facebook meme that clearly states that democratic socialism is just wanting all those things we pay for with taxes. Just like the Scandinavian countries do.

No! No it is not! They are most definitely not the same.

*deep breath*. OK, first we go back to Marx. He of the complete lack of understanding of human nature and nationalism. And, bad economic ideas. Marx had essentially a three-step process for moving from capitalism to communism.

  1. Capitalism would build the industrial base for the modernization of the economy and the increasing wealth of society. But, (as he was observing the Industrial Revolution in London), this would result in a great deal of inequality and the bourgeoisie who owned the means of production (businesses) would get wealthier while their employees (workers) would not move up or get poorer. Eventually, the workers would revolt against the bourgeoisie and this would lead to…
  2. Socialism. In socialism (and here’s the important bit folks), the state (government) would now own the means of production (businesses) and provide regulations regarding the economy including wages, prices, production, conditions, etc. Private property (homes, etc) would still be allowed under the socialism phase. Eventually, the state, having regulated everything and created equality among all citizens, would “wither away” leading to…
  3. Communism. In this phase all property and all business would be owned by all citizens in common (the state). No private property, no privately owned businesses. Everybody would contribute to and receive all from the state. “From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.”

I’ll tackle the idea of communism and it’s failure to take human nature into account in a later post. What I want to focus on here, is the “democratic socialism equals social democracy” foolishness.

The Scandinavian countries are social democracies. In other words, they are capitalist democracies that tax at a high rate in order to provide a generous social safety net for their citizens. They are most emphatically NOT democratic socialist governments. These governments do not own all businesses or have planned economies. They rely on private businesses to provide the lions share of taxes (IKEA is not a Swedish government owned business, but it is a big source of tax revenue for them). This is such a misunderstanding in the United States that in 2016 the Danish Prime Minister Lars Lokke Rasmussen felt the need to clarify things in an address to Harvard University.

“I know that some people in the US associate the Nordic model with some sort of socialism. Therefore I would like to make one thing clear. Denmark is far from a socialist planned economy. Denmark is a market economy,” Rasmussen said.

(emphasis added)

Catch that? “…far from a socialist planned economy.” They are market economies. Capitalist. That’s the difference and it’s the “planned” bit that gives most people the hives. Still unsure? Still think it might be a good idea to give this system a go? Run this thought experiment. Think about the last interaction you had with a government official. The DMV? Tax authorities? Paying a parking ticket? Now, imagine that individual and all his/her co-workers making economic decisions for the entire country. Wages, prices, output, imports, exports, tax rates, licensing requirements (wait…some of them already do that), product type and manufacture, product providers, employment decisions. All of it made by that person at the DMV/IRS/city office wherever. That’s socialism. And that’s socialism whether you call it democratic socialism, or just socialism.

As Mr. Rasmussen said, the Scandinavian countries are market economies. They are capitalist in nature. They provide generous social benefits. They are not socialIST.

So for the love of all that’s good, right, and bright in this world, stop conflating these terms. Bernie Sanders is a socialist. He wants the state to closely control the economy. For the end result of this idea, please see Venezuela for reference. Most Democratic voters believe that means he’s in favor of social democracy. Based on what I’ve read, he’s not. And, near as I can tell, none of the other Democratic candidates have figured that out.

This has been bugging me for a while now. Thank you for reading. We now return you to your regularly scheduled orneriness.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Week 7 prompt

Over at More Odds Than Ends, it’s the Week 7 writing prompt challenge. This week my prompt was a photo which you can see over there. My brain is a bit fried from a very weird and stressful week at work, but this is what I came up with.

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“Mama, who’s this in the picture with Tío Joaquín?”
“Ah, that is his best friend Guillermo.”
“No, I mean others.”
“What others? There’s only Tío Joaquín and Guillermo.” Mamá sounded puzzled.
“Mira, Mamá, there’s a small boy, but it’s not me, and there’s somebody in a devil mask.” Adalberto glanced at his mother. Didn’t she see the other two in the photo?
Elena stared at her son. “Míjo, you can see them?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Sí, Mamá. What’s going on?”
Elena took a deep breath. If Adalberto could see the other two, she had to explain the young angel and the devil he’d defeated.

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If you are at all interested, please do go over and check out the prompts. There are always spare prompts if you haven’t sent one in, and it would be great to see the group grow!

Image by Günther Simmermacher from Pixabay

Offensensitivity

That’s a word invented by Burke Breathed the creator of Bloom County. Some people are just super easy to offend. They’re just looking to be offended. They are also usually extremely clueless and lacking self-awareness. They have a great deal of offensensitivity and excel in looking for and finding offense in almost everyone and everything they encounter. These individuals often post quotes and memes that are designed to show that they “know” what is going on in the world. They are aware and are on to the rest of us. They’re not going to be fooled. What they fail to recognize is that they may in fact be describing themselves and their refusal to see any other arguments. One of my FB friends, who also happens to be an old high school friend, posted a quote/meme from George Orwell:

The further a society drifts from truth the more it will hate those who speak it.

I know the political leanings of this friend so I know that this was meant to be a dig at Trump and Republicans. I pointed out that perhaps they should consider that they are the ones hating those who speak the truth, rather than those speaking the truth. Of course, I immediately got challenged. Surprisingly for me, I remained calm and simply pointed out that perhaps they were the ones not listening. I was told that was not possible because “everyone knows” that Trump never speaks the truth. Ah. OK, then.

Stupidly perhaps, I then said, well, being trained in counter-factuals or what-ifs, I was simply pointing out the danger of assuming that you are not the one doing the hating of truth tellers. I’m now being challenged with the usual “well, I guess I’m just stupid, so please, do enlighten me, I’m not trained” extremely sarcastic and over the top language designed to goad. I’ve decided not to respond since seriously, if you can’t figure out what is meant by a “what-if scenario” then you really are refusing to listen, and yes you are the one doing the hating.

I have become so much better over the last few years at ignoring the inflammatory on FB, but sometimes it’s so over-the-top that I simply can’t help myself. I need to quit doing that. It’s not that I’m afraid to lose friends (I haven’t seen most of thees folks in decades and got along fine before they reentered my life via FB.). It’s that I simply don’t want to expend the energy engaged in all things political. I need to spend energy on school/work stuff and I want to spend energy on writing. Getting caught up in ridiculous arguments on social media is simply a colossal waste of time. Nobody really wants to engage in any type of discussion, they simply want to inform you of how stupid and unenlightened you are. Clearly, I know this and yet I still manage to ignore that small voice in my head that says, no let it go, and engage. I gotta figure out a way to make that voice louder.

So, in the end, I will not be returning to that thread. Let them think I don’t have an answer, let my former high school friend unfriend me. It’s immaterial at this point. I’m gong to continue to post those things I find to be interesting or funny or poignant and that’s the end of that.

Pretty good self-assessment if I do say so myself (see what I did there? didja? Huh? Huh?) Anyway, paying attention to what I tell myself and avoiding self-induced stress (arguing with people on FB is the definition of self-induced stress!) will lead to a happier, healthier me.

So, go figure out what you want to spend energy on. Make sure it’s something that makes you happy and not stressed out. My totally obvious words of wisdom for this week.

Image by MoteOo from Pixabay