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  • hardie karges 12:37 am on July 14, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , suicide   

    Suicide Pax: Afghanistan! (a fantasy in four-part disharmony) 


    Hamid Karzai and me

    I had it all planned out: this would be perfect, for myself and for the world. For myself, of course, the advantages of checking out of this cheap hotel early are obvious: 1) no old age, 2) no more taxes, and 3) I can’t find anything I want to read, anyway. But that’s too easy. I want to make a statement. To go out like a dog under a car’s wheel has no class, no style, no eminence worthwhile, just mort a credit and settle the score with a Visa card that won’t be used any more, do final reckonings later, no insurance anyway, so why not?

    We’ve all heard of suicide bombers, but what about suicide peacemakers? Positively inspired by the Buddhist priests who self-immolated to protest the Vietnam war in the 60’s and those who protest the Chinese takeover of Tibet to this day, and not so positively inspired by Islamic martyrs and wannabes who take others down with them (not cool) in Palestine, Iraq and wherever life’s cheap, I figure it’s time the Western Christ-born throw in their two cents. (More …)

    • Esther Fabbricante 3:35 am on July 14, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      My goodness.

    • davekingsbury 8:51 am on July 14, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Wonderful … a fable for our times! Look forward to the next instalment …

      • hardie karges 10:02 am on July 14, 2016 Permalink | Reply

        Ha! thx, been trying to do something with this little story for two years, finally figured WTF…

  • hardie karges 5:56 pm on September 22, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: D. F. Wallace, depression, , suicide,   

    Perfect Day, Infinite Gist, part 3: Bus, Desert, DFWallace, Suicide… 

    Ghost rider

    Ghost rider

    (continued from previous)

    My ghost bus proceeds from Tucson, avoiding Tucumcari, likewise Tehachapi, straight past Tonopah, on the outskirts of Phoenix, known for its wide skirts. The Pepsi soothes my parched throat sputtering and fizzing noisily, much more than a breakfast drink, as we say down south, it almost like elixir… medicine… some kind of magical liquid that lures you into its parlor and creates the future need for itself—it crackling with life when everything around it is dead, it calling out your name when all your friends tend to ignore you…

    No one on a bus wears a suit; that’s what I like about it. We pre-millennial Americans are defined by our suits: collar and tie, cuff and link, symbolized by our chains and the willingness of our submission, as it has been for the last hundred years, gentlemen and their ladies defined by that yoke, everyone else defined by its lack as lackeys… (More …)

    • Esther Fabbricante 8:53 pm on September 22, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      Traveling alone is not in my future – just with family – one or more. Maybe a trip to Dallas/Southlake for Thanksgiving to see my two new twin great granddaughters who are imminent between now and Oct. 10. Greg will be a grandpa again! And 2-year old Jack will be a brother.

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