The witch behind the fly

By Johnny D. Symon

When I was younger, so much younger than today, as the song goes, I never needed anybody's help in any way. At a tender age I was informed on more than one occasion that spring was the crazy season. I'm too old to remember the context of that statement, though I'm sure that the folks saying it were pointing the springer at me in some way. Something happened the other day that brought those memories back, at least as much of those memories as I presently care to recall.

A relative of mine, rich in years, began to act kinda loco. Suddenly he could not judge distance, then he began to hallucinate. After this the entire left side of his body succumbed to palsy. At this the medics were called, and off he went to the nearest hospital, suffering from, they presumed, a severe heart attack. After exhaustive tests the specialist discovered that, far from being a heart problem, he was experiencing the upshots behind a cerebral tumor.

The specialist believes that the tumor had been nestling there, out back and under his brain, possibly for decades. Then a little twist of the head, or some exertion, made the object interfere with his nervous system. Amazingly the man was out of hospital and back home in no more than 9 days, already he's beginning to recover his sense of distance and his movement on the left side of the body. One of the things he finds most frustrating is that as he recovers his movement, his brain gets confused between his right and left, he'll go to pick up a spoon with his right, and his left does the business, and vice versa. At least movement is returning, albeit haphazardly. The problem tumor is however an ongoing problem for it's yet to be removed, or not as the case may be, further tests should be the deciding factor.

For my ancient relative, late summer turned into his crazy season, a time and space where his thoughts and actions defied the norms. Sometimes for no apparent reason, and in company, the man just bellows out a statement or a simple shout. Then at times as he carries out his part of a conversation, he goes blank and sits there like a store mannequin.. Others around him find themselves at a loss, an uneasy embarrassing moment. Basically with times like these, his nearest and dearest sit by the shore waiting for his ship to return to port, then watch him disembark onto dry land.

"The real voyage of discovery
lies not in finding new lands,
but in seeing with new eyes."
— "À la recherche du temps perdu," Marcel Proust.

The old dudes plight, or rather the idiosyncrasies emanating from it, was what I mentioned at the start to have brought back some of my childhood memories. My very own silly season. Crazy stuff indeed.. And things barely worth a mention here, mainly because each aspect of my silly season, the Mad March Hare thing, was composed and conducted by yours truly. I did crazy things because I was stupid and wanted to, whereas the old fellow mentioned here performed his crazy acts against his own will and better judgment.

I guess we're all loco, we're all crazy, for in truth as regards thoughts, emotions and actions, seasons are immaterial and redundant. It's a pity really, because life would be just that little bit easier if we all could rest in the knowledge that spring is the time everyone goes crazy, for if that were the case, the rest of the year would breeze by. Three whole seasons a year, entered with the sense that life's good and it'll stay good, then one season when we'd be on our guard.

Alas, and in truth, seasons are no more than seasons, whereas humans are not always human, let alone sane. Seasons have no free will, but we have. Our thoughts and actions, apart from those sceptered or energized through illness, are the fruit of our personal decisions; willfully stupid, ignorant, thoughtless, and dangerous, especially to others around us, yet most certain to rebound and harm their creator sooner or later..

Several important Spanish bodies are threatening the government, saying that if they don't form a joint economic crisis committee they intend to force an early election. A few days back in Congress, PP leader Mariano Rajoy sat quietly listening to Zapatero's wondrous view of Spain under his rule. "Social Reform" held the main gist of his boastful argument, at this Mariano remarked, "Social Reform; 4,300,000 unemployed is your social reform !!"

Last week two important VIP's, at least according to Zappo and his crew, visited Spain. First down was Hugo "Jugoso" Chavez, then a little later Evo Morales. Cuba's Infidel Castrato desired to make the trip no doubt, thereby completing a less than divine trinity, but his health would not permit. Nevertheless, all is far from lost, for the divine trinity should be realized next year when Barry White House gets there. Okay, it's a trinity if I leave out Zappo, so it's more like a Leftwing Quadruple Bypass from the Real Deal and the authentic big and sorry picture of the realities surrounding their reign.

While in Spain, Hugo remarked that Don Quijote was a Socialist ! I'm assuming that Hugo had read Don Quijote, for if he had then his statement was really a condemnation of Socialism in all its forms, for you see Don was an idealistic madman who viewed sheep as an army of invading soldiers. One time he and Sancho were in a taproom, a 16th Century juke joint, when they were served a good juking by some fellow barstanders. He later told his sidekick, Sancho, that these guys were evil spirits. He viewed windmills as giants.

Yes indeed, Hugo hit the nail on the head, possibly due to the fact that the latest huge natural gas discovery off Venezuela by Repsol pales into insignificance when one considers Hugo's own internal gas deposit. Sure, Don Quijote was a Socialist, and Hugo, Evo, Zappo, and Barry are most definitely Brothers in Arms and kindred spirits of Don Quijote. Aw shucks, this thought chain's breeding like flies because G W Bush was a fair spittin' of Don Quijote too. It would appear that Socialism recognizes no barriers or bounds; the vision of a One World Socialist Utopia, of enemies in every shadow and corner, and the soothing might of Big Brother standing firm, a panoply or perhaps more likened to a heaven of brass withstanding for a short spell the mighty forces of God.

Since we're all crazy we continue to fall into a trance, believing in man-made hallucinations. A short while back the UN's Bunk Eye Loon visited the Arctic Icecaps, moaning about the melting and breaking away of them. The effects of global warming he said. A man-made disaster in other words. Yet most observers of Bunk Eye's trip failed to detect that the boy was no more than a fruit and nut cake, swindler, and snake oil salesman. He was all this and more, yet no one made the point that when he took the trip, it was during the northern hemisphere's summer.

You see those geeks only ever make that trip during the summer season, they never visit the northern polar wastes in January or February, for what they would see would contradict their lying philosophy. Equally, the Antarctic shares the same fate. They only get a visit from bums like these during the northern hemisphere's winter months. Truth is, we all can play that game; just buy an ice cream in Chicago late July and tell the folks around you that, "My ice cream's melting due to global warming," and in January tell those self-same folks that your ice cream ain't melting because mankind is bringing on a new ice-age with this "carbon monoxide" they're pumping into the atmosphere. Most people would think you were nuts, so why don't we think likewise as regards Bunk Eye Loon and his foolish talk ? I guess we're all willfully hallucinating over it, and it's time to get real.

We're nuts to believe anything the UN says, and our nuthood is all the greater come election time. Folks forget history when their votes required, then they place that mark on the paper only to receive worse of the same, and worse still, the promise of God's curse for it; Cursed is the man that trusteth in man. Yet if one day a man or woman stands forth to declare their promise, that if elected they would replace Democracy with Theocracy, as God is their witness, voting would not be an act of madness. To place one's trust in the other type is to trust in the witch behind a fly.

At the start of this week's scibblings, as I'm sure you all recall, I said "when I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody's help in any way," and for me this is true, yet this is where the song's lyrics and yours truly depart because I still doggedly avoid help from third parties. Any help I received in the past came with a price, therefore "My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth." And that's how it shall always remain.

© Johnny D. Symon