Mapping Out My Strategy

THE GOLDEN CHILD - #10

I'm busy, very busy, checking the signs, getting my forces in place, strategizing, taking time out to run the dishwasher twice today, taking the dog out, and getting myself spiritually aligned. I actually have dealt with dark forces before -- but nothing like exorcisms in Mexico, nothing that bad; I wouldn't mind having a wall just to keep actual demons at bay -- so I'm reasonably familiar with evil. It's something a guy has to be careful talking about, lest he rouse them again. I'll just say there's some bum spirits out there who wouldn't mind getting a piece of me. But I'm strong, like a knife you buy at the State Fair, guaranteed for life.

So, yes, I'm checking the signs and so forth, because honestly I don't know how it's all going to shake out. Whether it might be a 'Rumble in the Jungle' or will simply 'Go Down Downtown'. I've been penciling out a map of the area. I've been in contact with some of my friends in the tractor dancing sector; make note of that, you heard it here first. The guy I've been in contact won't mind me putting his publicity pic up. But just in case, like Jackson Browne, I doctored his eyes to maintain his anonymity.

As to what we know about Myra Kula Electra's plans and her forces, it's very little. There are things we don't know. Like me with the facts of life when I was 16! Ha ha, don't want to go there! I'm a little giddy tonight, maybe you can tell. I guess I get that way every time my life's on the line. With the weight of the world coming down I might get crushed. Like when I was 16, many crushes. Ha ha, the facts of life thing is all moot now -- I got it figured out in time not to need it! By the way, I am not lusting after Myra Kula Electra. Give me a break! Yes, she has a very appealing exterior, but mentally -- I don't know -- public sex with prisoners? That killed it for me.

I just hope she's not smarter than me. That'd be terrible, wouldn't it? Let's say she's got a lot of her evil supernatural buddies, sulfur, fire, balls of fire she could be throwing. I've got nothing like that. If it comes to supernatural stuff, I just have to hope that good actually has the advantage over evil. I'm guessing so; I have theological reasons to think so, but even so I have to hope there's something to it, something more than wishful thinking, or logic that hasn't necessarily been tested.

OK, the map. That's the basic lay of the land. The center of town's where most things happen. It's hard to believe she won't go for downtown, but when? First, second, third? But I think there'll be another part of it, i.e., the supernatural portal at the old coal mound. Remember that? It could be I'm all wet all the way round.

One thing I have to warn you about, this isn't fiction. So you shouldn't expect the basic fiction outline of this battle. Which would be: 1) Setting, engagement; 2) Advantage, Myra; 3) Advantage, Me; 4) She retakes advantage; 5) I'm weakening; 6) Something intervenes; 7) I'm able to rally; 8) Etc. Chances are it won't happen like that. And I seriously have no one to come zip-lining into the scene. Frankly, I'm getting confused. I should probably be saying a few Golden Child mantras to psych myself up. Anyone know any?

I've only been The Golden Child a little over a week. What the hell am I battling Myra Kula Electra for, already? Is that what you get for being The Golden Child? I need to think this over. There should be a few months of happiness first, right? Maybe that's it. I kill (or otherwise neutralize) Myra (the reason suddenly escapes me) then I live happily ever after. Surely there's room in the whole wide world for both of us. There's been room up till now. What changed? I honestly forget why I'm in this battle. That's a bad sign!

Mantra work: "Gol-den-Child you-can-do it-oo-oo."

Lucent In The Sky With Demons

 THE GOLDEN CHILD - #5

One man immediately believed my word that I was the Golden Child, my cousin Roto. I figured he would. We've been together over the years, especially as kids. "Yes," he said to me before the Coffee Club, "You are The Golden Child." As he declared this, others more readily fell in line, celebratory of the mission before us. So Roto tilled the soil for me, and now what a fantastic crop I hope shall come of this moment!

How well I remember the magical world Roto and I lived in as kids. Probably like all kids at play, when left to ourselves, we saw angels, devils, and various animal prodigies. I'll never forget one great Thanksgiving when we were about 10. Mom roasted us this gigantic firefly we'd caught, about the size of a 20-pound turkey. The thing was delicious, and the extra glow from his backside as the centerpiece made the holiday even more special.

Some of the coolest things we saw -- excluding fairies, gnomes, and trolls, everyday stuff -- was at this old mound of coal at his parents' place, my aunt and uncle. I'm still not sure why there was a mound of coal, but there always was, with soil that had blown in and green growth over it. My hand to heaven, we saw that mound become like a glistening mound of gold many times. Occasionally we beheld lights circling around the gold, with new age music emitted from somewhere, well before it was an official genre. We met with beings of lights so often we must've each worn out a dozen pair of sunglasses! Good times...

But the times weren't all good... Occasionally there was an enemy who'd rise up -- one with female qualities -- and terrify us. In psychoanalysis, I suppose she would be akin to an anima heart attack or a devouring mother figure. Like in Indian mythology, a mother who consumes her children. We usually ran away, but finally, having just smoked a homemade corn silk cigarette, I stood up to her with these words, "Whoa, back, Immortal Menace, thus far and no farther! Sheath thy fangs! And withdraw, for you have already eaten your children!"

You would've thought I'd touched her with an electric cattle prod, the way she reared back in terror and keen distress. She spun into the air like a souped-up comet; then in what can only be described as the overwhelming radiance of fire when it makes contact with piss and vinegar, she exploded across the night sky. If you look back in '60s history, that's the night many small planes went down across the country, obviously making it a sad time for their survivors.

We were kids. We didn't report our involvement. Anyway, who would've believed us? "Uhh, we were at the old coal mound, which belched forth hellish beings, including this one particularly menacing wraith. Piss and vinegar were involved, and that's all I know." On second thought, at least they would've had a lead. Instead, we were repeating to each other, in fear, "I didn't see anything, did you?" "No, I didn't see anything." We kept our silence until now, this very minute.

Now, back to today. With Roto's testimony backing me up as The Golden Child, I officially named him First Vice President in Charge of Disciple Affairs. Hopefully he'll be working up a sheet of membership benefits and donor classes, based on the different grades of light: Tea Candles for the Golden Child, Tapers for the Golden Child, Candelabras for the Golden Child, and so forth, all the way up to the more generous $10,000/month donors, Super Bowl Stadium Bank of Mega-Lights for the Golden Child.

Demons or Supernatural Helpers?

Call me demon-possessed, because in the last couple of weeks I've become possessed, at least mentally, by demons. In the morning I look at my cereal and think demons. At noon I'm working on a bowl of oyster stew and I see demons, of course. And at night, whatever I'm eating, I'm splitting it with three or four of my demon friends, and so going to bed hungry.

I, like other kids in Sunday School classes through the years, learned several things about demons, mostly that they're no good. I also learned that when they speak it's always gravelly and low, barely discernible as language, and generally quite looney. They ask you to disavow your reason, your family, your values, and even your humanity, and join them on a joyride that's extremely fun for the first little bit, but then takes a less cheerful sharp turn toward destruction. That means something to me; for one, I don't watch Fox News.

But I don't get that from demons. Neither in theory, nor now, in practice. In theory, I think the whole subject quickly becomes abstruse and boring. Like when you start throwing in Plato (I've heard of him) and some of the lesser known writers of antiquity, and the twists and turns of the Greek word "daimon" and how it relates to nature forces, whether they're merely personified symbolically or pictured as literal heads over particular aspects of nature, caves and grottoes. Are you still with me?

By the way, they didn't mention any of that in Sunday School. Which made it much more exciting. Demons were these terrorists from hell who put people through all kinds of torment, throwing them into the fire, and possessing them so they lived in tombs and broke chains like Hercules. A lot of their activity, by some totally weird coincidence, seemed to look a lot like epilepsy. Making us suspicious of very common neurological troubles. Side note to my cousin Shaky: "Sorry about those years chained in the root cellar."

Now, in recent days, I've had the privilege of knowing a being who goes by the name "Tricky the Demon." OK? Do I sound crazy? 1 x 1 = 1, 2 x 1 = 2, 3 x 1 = 3 .... Do I really need to prove my sanity? Tricky came to me with a Magic Butler and liberated me from the false doctrine that scratching itches is bad. For which I thank him, with kisses. Because I've seen more alt realms by feverishly scratching -- or letting the Magic Butler scratch me, especially below the waist -- than I ever saw in my more sedate past.

Anyway, Tricky's opened my thinking to the deeper insight that there must be all kinds of other helpful demons out there. Stands to reason, huh? And bigger and badder Magic Butlers. But when I tell people this, they're put off by the word "demon." Like a lot of other words, they've demonized the word "demon" to the point that their mind shuts off when they hear it. It's like "scumbag," "bunghole," "dill weed," "ass wipe," and, in the Bush years, "french fries."

So in the last couple of days, I've been surveying my friends, relatives, and a few strangers I know from Facebook, on which they prefer, "demons" or "supernatural helpers"? It's probably no big surprise that they scrunch up their face and curl into a fetal ball when they hear "demons." But they become light as a feather and twice as radiant with "supernatural helpers." Just like you look when you read Guideposts magazine all day. So supernatural helpers it is!

Tricky says he's OK with that, Tricky the Supernatural Helper. And I might need to work on the Magic Butler, too, because "magic" sounds fake and frivolous, and "butler," like secretary and garbage man, obviously needs a more modern equivalent, "personal assistant." What's a good replacement for "magic"? I guess for now it'll have to be Magic Personal Assistant, or just find out if he has an actual name.

I'm thinking, with the ancients, that if these supernatural helpers were in charge of the many functions of nature -- thunder, lightning, rivers, clouds -- then they'd have all kinds of specialties today. With the more desirable ones being like a well-stocked smartphone (many apps), able to perform many functions. My Magic Butler seems to have that, and I don't even have to recharge him every hour.

Incantations to my new demon friends: "Demon of dating, have you found anyone yet? Speed it up! I'm getting the mating jitters again!"  .... "Demon of reading speeds, try to harmonize your actions with the demons of my eyes and mind!" ... Then let's say I need to take revenge on someone who's wronged me: "Demon of annihilation, you're a demon, don't worry about the police! That guy's a bastard! Kill him!" .... Now back to the more domestic stuff: "Demon of toast, I prefer actual butter, not Blue Bonnet!"

That'd be a great life, being the demon of toast.