Day of the Groundhog

"Honey, are you awake?" Cayley nudged Phil.

"No," Phil replied. "For crying out loud, it's the middle of winter"

"That is just the point, Phil," insisted Cayley. "We are halfway through our winter stores. Are we going to make it to Spring?"

"You worry about this every year. We've always made it -- come back here and snuggle with me."

"We need to plan and ration for the duration. We need to know how much more winter there is going to be this year."

"Do you know how much snow I dig through every year to give you a prediction? Do you know how cold it is out there in February? No, of course not. Every year it's 'Phil, go take a look' while you stay snugly buried in the warm burrow."

"Oh, c'mon, Phil, go take a look. I'll warm you up when you get back."

Resignedly, Phil arose. "For you, dear, 'cause I love you," he said aloud, albeit half-heartedly. "And 'cause you aren't going to stop until I do," he muttered to himself.

For the next half-hour, Phil dug slowly upwards, dozing off briefly a couple of times until he heard Cayley calling out below. He broke through to the surface, stood up, and looked around. Then he retreated to the burrow, collapsing the temporary tunnel behind him.

"Well?" asked Cayley.

"They had on heavy coats, but it was sunny enough that at least half were unbuttoned. Six more weeks until Spring. Now can we go back to bed?"

For Future Schemes

(Tune: Auld Lang Syne)

Should old databases be forgot
And nevermore be seen?
Should old databases be forgot
For future schemes?

Chorus:
For future schemes, we dream,
For future schemes.
We’ll take those bold steps forward
For future schemes.

And surely you’ll have your app,
All is promised, it seems,
And we’ll complete our daily biz
With future schemes.

     Chorus

We long have run that old beast down
‘Til it busted at the seams.
But we’ve grown now only to fit
With future schemes.

     Chorus

They’ll carry over what they can
If it fits in their themes.
But not all history complies
With future schemes.

     Chorus

So, grab my hand and hold your nose
As we jump in the stream
That’ll take us to that hopeful land
Of future schemes.

Nothing to Lose

What greater vote of confidence could the American public have given a President at the midterm election. Frustrated with his patience in waiting for and compromising with alllies and bickering hopelessly with recalcitrant opponents, the American electorate at last have taken advantage of the last election in the Obama administration to cut him loose.

With no more elections to lose (or win) and scant likelihood for congressional help, the President may now drop his search for tepid (at best) support and mine the authority he has on his own to achieve his goals. He has many changes to the stale politics in Washington pledged years ago which the American voters were eager to see made. But he has spent six years working within the very system he (and they) hope to change. In seeking the political consensus, he traded away control for concessions from others.

But in their wisdom, the Americans have realized their error in providing the President with the potential to think Congress will act in accordance with his promises. Decades of their scattered compromising legislation to serve conflicting interests has resulted in the dysfunctional and directionless system we all find reasons to resent. Now reminded if you want something done, you should do it yourself, Obama is freed of the political distractions that have thwarted his dreams. You go, Prez.

The Municipal Office Party

The Policeman’s Carol

(Melody: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear)

If I could have one wish each year
To share with one and all.
It would be for a season clear
Of fights, from guns to brawl;
“Peace everyone, please walk away,
Leave, even in a huff.
But let us have calm on this day --
Non-violence is enough.”

Still I know laws will be broken,
I must yet go to work.
Angry, harsh words will be spoken --
There’ll always be some jerk.
But for one day, if not a week,
Hold your fury within;
We’ll not slap your proffered cheek
When on your heel you spin.

The world will ever have its strife
And chafe as heads collide.
We all want to live our safe life --
To each their faith abide.
You need not wish me Christmas cheer
Or Happy Hanukkah,
Or whatever you have at end of year,
Festivus or Kwanzaa.

Please find your way to allow peace
To visit everyone.
Let me patrol in silent ease
And never draw my gun.
And if my wish could come this once,
We all would feel some hope
That to believe doesn’t make a dunce --
In harmony, we can cope.

---

The Fireman’s Carol

(Melody: Up on the House Top)

Up on the rooftop, firemen climb,
To fight a fire caused by grime.
Down in the chimney are lots of flames --
There is no time for holiday games.

REFRAIN:
Creosote! Oh, no, no!
Creosote! Oh, no, no!
Check up the chimney, quick, quick, quick,
Each year before that lighter you click.

First goes the flue, inferno hot,
Oh, dear, here’s another spot;
It burns through the wall to your surprise
As you watch it spread before your eyes.

REFRAIN.

Next, the bedroom of Ma and Pa;
Burns all like it’s made of straw.
There go the drapes, clothes and the bed --
Hope you get out before you’re all dead.

REFRAIN

---

The Snowplow Driver’s Carol

(Melody: Let it Snow)

O, winter weather is at last coming
And soon my truck will be humming;
I’ll plow you a way to go --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

I hope it’s not soon stopping
So I can pay for my wife’s shopping;
My checkbook is running low --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

When we finally get a good dump
How I love to get out in my truck!
Your car is now a snowy lump,
But I will never get stuck.

The piles are steadily climbing
And I weary with overtiming
But as long as my truck will go --
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

---

The School Teacher’s Carol

(Melody: O Little Town of Bethlehem)

In our town school’s gymnasium,
We met to say goodbye.
To home you’re gone on vacation --
I let out a big sigh.
Yet in my nightly dreams lurk
Your ever-grinning face,
The smiling masses of all the classes
Follow me every place.

For peace and rest I yearn,
To rewind my mind’s clock,
While parents weep for you to keep
Running amok in house and block.
O when the holidays end
And rings the school bell clear
And bus by bus on me you’re thrust,
I’ll hold you again dear.

But silently, please silently,
Let my break be my own!
Please leave my brain with no refrain
From life in the school zone.
No ear can hear you drumming,
Inside my poor brain pan,
But I still know that’s where you go,
To haunt my holiday plan.

O little child of our fair town
Go home for now and play.
Forget lessons and my questions --
There’ll be no test today.
We’ll sing our cheerful carols
And play our reindeer games,
But you at home, and me alone,
As the school board proclaims.

---

The Mayor Carol

(Melody: Joy to the World)

Joy to you all! The Mayor’s here;
Get the party in gear;
Let all employees raise up their beer,
And shout a mighty cheer,
And shout a mighty cheer,
And shout, and shout a mighty cheer.

Joy to you all! The Mayor serves;
Let votes decide who wins;
Let’s use some of the town’s reserves
To hire some violins,
To hire some violins,
To hire, to hire some violins.

He will spread the taxes to all,
To each department found;
He’ll fund every budget call
As far as it’ll go ‘round,
As far as it’ll go ‘round,
As far, as far as it’ll go ‘round.

He rules the town with charm and grace,
And shakes anyone’s hand,
With the twinkling smile on his face,
And arm twists from his band,
And arm twists from his band,
Arm twists, and arm twists from his band.

---

The Tax Payer & Tax Collector Duet

(Melody: Baby, It’s Cold Outside)

We really can’t pay --- Lady, it’s your fair share
You don’t hear what I say --- It’s not that I don’t care
This meeting has been --- My calculations you’ve seen
A waste of time --- Maybe I can save you a dime.

My mother turned off the heat --- You’ve two thousand square feet,
Father closed the second floor --- A garage through the kitchen door;
So this bill we just can’t meet --- Such a pretty little street.
Collectors knocking at the door --- I wouldn’t guess you’re so poor.

The neighbors will talk --- Lady, we’ll fix this thing
When at bills we balk --- With some extra tax filing;
I wish I knew how --- We’ll report your income now
To win the lottery --- And adjust for your poverty.

You’ve been so very nice --- I easily would do it twice
Your kindness I hope to repay --- Just goodbye and be on your way.
We are saved by law --- From deep pockets we draw
Others will pay that fair share.

I really could stay --- I was just doing my job
And my gratitude pay --- You’re making my head throb
For service oh so grand --- Please let go of my hand
That gave me peace --- Leave now or I’ll call the police.

What joy I will feel tomorrow --- What trouble did I borrow
With one less bill that’s still due --- In finding the way to help you
Now I won’t pay --- That’s what the laws say,
Others will pay that fair share,
Oh, others pay the fair share,
Yes, others pay our fair share.

Documentation Woes

Is it perhaps worse to say too much
Than to say hardly anything at all?
To spew great verbosity and such
Versus a trail of bread crumbs too small?

What truths will I hide buried so deep
When I ramble far beyond the point?
Who will know what are the facts to keep
When I scatter words all over the joint?

But when I cut the clue to a phrase,
Those few selected hints of meaning,
Whose understanding will I so faze
That its message is beyond gleaning?

There is a reason why it comes last,
If ever the manual is written.
It is not what gives coders a blast
Once with a problem, they are smitten.

Such drudgery not for them intended,
So the programmers will tell you all.
Hire English majors with words splendid
To capture the thoughts and you enthrall.

Calliope (epic poetry, politics, justice), Clio (history), Euterpe (music, dialectic, flutes, lyric poetry), Thalia (comedy, pastoral poetry, mathematics, architecture, agriculture), Melpomene (tragedy, rhetoric), Terpsichore (dance, education), Erato (love poetry), Polyhymnia (sacred poetry, geometry, grammar), Urania (astronomy, navigation)
and

The Tenth Muse

What artists or scholars do not seek, knowingly and only practically, the guidance and approval of their Muse in their love of the knowledge and craft they pursue? These nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, taught by Apollo, guarded and bestowed to us the secrets of all arts and science as were within their individual domains. Collectively, they gave us language, technique, creativity, and appreciation of learning and achievement. Individually, they have selected and blessed many through the generations of Man to carry on and advance their cultivated areas.

But most of us are not so blessed with the special gifts from a guardian Muse. We merely dabble while experts create. We share in the benefits and wonders of their creations and discoveries (and sometimes suffer from their unruly consequences) but not in their famed glory.

And yet, when we look about us every day, we see the contributions of such lesser folks as us in these same pursuits to which the Muse-inspired are driven. We show our grasp of the arts and science, the communication and practice of these skills, albeit at more rudimentary or moderate levels. We too have a guardian and a benefactor. One whose tended flocks has added to all the cumulative endeavors of Man more (in quantity) than any of the specialized prodigies of the individual Muses. One who has overseen and aided us across all the spheres of knowledge. This one is the Tenth Muse, the neglected brother of the Muses, the generalist amongst these focused advocates of their specialties. Let us in the greater mass of people give our thanks to our Muse, Anony. Many today forget to credit their Muse in the works they produce, but our most humble of this family is the most often cited despite his modesty.

Thank you, Anony Muse.

The Winter Cold Does Come

To Melody of: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.

It comes about Thanksgiving time
With a sniffling in my nose,
And starts to explore my body
With symptoms as it goes:
A scratchy throat, and aches abound,
And that stuffiness in my ears;
The winter cold has come again
As it has all these years.

And as those germs crawl in and out,
Wherever they do want,
They inflame my organs in response
And my antibodies taunt.
“You'll never find and catch us all;
We're simply everywhere.
You're just too slow to stop our fun,”
Those blasted bugs do jeer.

Yet it's not true, I tell myself,
I suffered this before;
With a few pills to help and sleep,
They'll be vanquished once more.
For man has fought the cold and won,
Evolution makes it clear.
So hush, you bothersome beasties,
I will again this year.

Shattered Dreams

Shattered Dreams

Who struck the blow to wreck your dream?
Did you hold his coat to lend aid?
Did you bend o'er to ease the ream?
Have you you to blame for mess made?

Did you work with too little sleep
In which your dreams could fully root?
Did you plan no promises to keep
As here and now burned through your loot?

Did you wait too long for the best
And watch as faint chance passed you by?
Did you curse that you were not blessed
And gave up then without a try?

Or did you fall from lofty peak
To land upon unyielding ground?
Of your dreams, a look you did sneak,
Coming so close, but never found?

The Pols Go Matching

THE POLS GO MARCHING

The pols go marching 1 by 1, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 1 by 1, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 1 by 1,
The poor voter stops to load his gun
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 2 by 2, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 2 by 2, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 2 by 2,
The poor voter stops to sigh a whew
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 3 by 3, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 3 by 3, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 3 by 3,
The poor voter hopes they will agree
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 4 by 4, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 4 by 4, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 4 by 4,
The poor voter stops to mop the gore
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 5 by 5, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 5 by 5, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 5 by 5,
The poor voter hopes they end their jive
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 6 by 6, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 6 by 6, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 6 by 6,
The poor voter says “Now no more tricks”
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 7 by 7, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 7 by 7, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 7 by 7,
The poor voter stops to pray to heaven
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 8 by 8, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 8 by 8, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 8 by 8,
The poor voter watches them fill their plate
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 9 by 9, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 9 by 9, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 9 by 9,
The poor voter sees his hopes unwind
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The pols go marching 10 by 10, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 10 by 10, hurrah, hurrah
The pols go marching 10 by 10,
The poor voter says "IT’LL NEVER END"
And they all go marching to Washington
To fix up the country, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Carols for Halloween

Carols for
HALLOWEEN
A new tradition to have the trick-or-treaters
earn their rewards (or else) 

---

It’s Beginning to Feel Much Like Halloween
Lyrics to It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

It’s beginning to feel much like Halloween
Everywhere you go;
There are ghosts and goblins out there
And skeletons to spare
With the same old bargain we so well know.

It’s beginning to feel much like Halloween
With its chilly breath.
The lawns are all now full of leaves
And the streets with candy thieves
To scare you to death.

A fist of sugary treats
And such unhealthy eats
Is the wish of Batman and Thor;
Gummies full of juice for tummies to abuse
Is the demand of Skeletor;
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait
To get home to their door.

It’s beginning to feel much like Halloween
Once again this fall;
There’s a blowup giant Frankenstein
To greet in pantomime
Everyone going to the shopping mall.

It’s beginning to feel much like Halloween
In your neighborhoods.
In the window there’s a broad grin
To taunt you dare to come in
If you want the goods.

It’s beginning to feel much like Halloween
When you hear a knock.
But the evilest thought to think
Is the kids will crash and sink
In their sugar shock.
It’s Halloween, on the block!

---

Hallowed Song
Lyrics to The Wassail Song

Here we come trick-n-treating
Among the homes so dark,
Here we come a-braving
Through the haunted park.
Trick or treat we offer you
And hope you will take your cue
And choose treat, and if you do,
Have a Hallowed Eve,
And we’ll send you blessings as we leave.

We are not common beggars
That beg from door to door,
But we are neighbors’ children
As you’ve never seen before.
Fright and fear come to you,
And perhaps a smile or two,
And we thank you, and hope you
Have a Hallowed Eve,
And we’ll send you blessing as we leave.

Good neighbor and kind stranger,
As you watch your TV,
Please think of us poor children
Who come to you to plea.
Small treats are all we ask,
Fear no tricks behind our mask,
And if you complete this task,
Have a Hallowed Eve,
And we’ll send you blessing as we leave.

---

Beware Stingy Jack
Lyrics to Away In A Manger

Away in the graveyard, just dirt for a bed,
That rogue Jack ‘o Lantern laid his pumpkin head.
The moon up above shone down on his grave,
And on this night, a brief new life to him gave.

The wind gusts were howling, as Jack awoke,
And his voice, so long still, cackled with a croak,
“I am free to wander and search through this night,
And see what tricks and mischief I can incite.”

Beware of Stingy Jack if he comes to play.
Close by you in darkness, on you he will prey.
Only on one night of each year he can roam,
But you must never let him into your home.

---

The Dead Are Out Walking Tonight

Lyrics to Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

You better watch out
Better stay inside
And try not to shout;
I suggest you hide –
The dead are out walking tonight.

They walk with a list –
It’s love they miss –
Gonna find a stray to hug and kiss.
The dead are out walking tonight.

They know you they are creeping,
They see your looks of fright,
They just want you to remember
They love you this eerie night.

You better watch out
Better stay inside
And try not to shout;
I suggest you hide –
The dead are out walking tonight.

With bony fingers, bony arms too,
Rotten rot rot and graveyard flu
The dead are out walking tonight.
And eyeless heads on top looking for you
Hoping you won’t mind the bits of goo.
The dead are out walking tonight.

When they find girls and boys out,
They are filled with glee.
They hug them and dance about
And say, “Now, you will come with me.”

So! You better watch out
Or try a disguise
And cause them to doubt;
Hide if you are wise –
The dead are out walking tonight.

They know you they were creeping,
They see your looks of fright,
They just want you to remember
They want you this eerie night.

You better watch out
Better stay inside
And try not to shout;
I suggest you hide –
The dead are out walking tonight.

New dinosaur discovery

ELKO, Nevada – Scientists at Nevada State University announced the discovery of a new dinosaur, the remains of which were uncovered in nearby mining operations. Operations were halted and the university’s geologists and biologists were called in when the underground construction of an air shaft unexpectedly broken into a large, open chamber.

Embedded in the floor of the chamber were the fossilized remains of an unknown species, estimated to have been approximately 1.8m tall while standing in its normal bipedal posture. With its raptor-like front limbs, it mostly closely resembles our common image of a tyrannosaur, but in miniature.

But, according to Dr. Edwina Halsey who led the research team, the most intriguing discoveries in the chamber were the numerous marking on the walls. While they are judged to be consistent with scratching that could have been made by this creature’s front claws, as the scientists recorded and catalogued them, they began to suspect they saw patterns and repetitions in the strokes. Consulting linguist Dr. Robert Kurweiler concluded that the inventory of markings represent a lexicon of at least 2,800 distinct words or terms.

The scientific conclusion offered is that the creature is the world’s earliest Thesaurus.

Counting Down to Contentment

Counting Down to Contentment

Although this moment may not be the best
And has more trouble to cast in your path,
There beckons ahead a break and a rest
Where you will flee soon from this daily wrath.

There's only three brushfires confronting you,
Stirred up by others, but now it's your job,
And a dozen to-dos you must still do
Before you can free yourself from the mob.

Or, maybe, what's worse, your list is all done,
And on idle duty, you just watch the clock.
Empty hours sit between you and your fun,
Passing slowly at the pace of a rock.

Awaiting the future is your pastime
As you slog through the present that is now.
That hope to arrive in a better clime
Adds wind pushing forward behind your prow.

To Blog or Not To Blog

To Blog or Not To Blog

To blog or not to blog: that is the question.
Whether 'tis better in silence to stifle
The piques and fancies of fatuous humor,
Or to pound keys to assault the straw men,
And by exposing mock them? To rant: to prate;
Endless; and by some joke to claim to beat
The inane and the thousands impinging pricks
That mind is prone to, 'tis a provocation
Daily to confront. To blog, to write;
To write: perchance to strike: ay, there's the rub:
For in that blog of fun what thoughts may come
Which we have launched into this faceless air,
May make us blush : There's the regret
That makes mockery of someone's beliefs;
For who would surf the net and tons of pages,
The endless popups, the unbacked opinions,
The downloads of unsought junk, the service crashes,
The redirection of links and the wastes
That patience drains from all who venture,
When he himself might his own ideas create
With sharpened wit? Who would insults bear
To dismiss that which offends his life,
But that the joy of revenge so presented,
The discovered fool from whose words
No retreat is sought, invokes the fire
And makes him rather seek those taunts we gave
Than hide from others who challenge him?
Thus courtesy does make cowards of us all;
And thus the false veil of anonymity
Is cloaked o'er the pale cast of my thoughts,
And enterprises of small worth and reward,
With this warning, their acts are done on sly,
And lost the name of author. Hush me now!
The naive audience! Surfer, from thy web searches
Be all my trace-backs concealed.

The Insanity of Literacy

“Reading made Don Quixote a gentleman, but believing what he read made him mad”
-- George Barnard Shaw

The uninformed person is often derided in our public debate. His statements are dismissed as fundamentally flawed because of some lack of mention of a tidbit seen by his detractor. His failure to keep afloat in the maelstrom of news, facts, and rumors seemingly proves his ineligibility to hold worthy opinions.

Nearly everybody falls into this category of incomplete knowledge. The more one reads, the more likely the next item read will cancel out something previously learned. We quickly fall into the habit of selective reading (and listening) of those things that support rather than clash with our worldview. It is comfortable, even when our particular outlook is gloom and doom.

Should we pity the Renaissance Man who would quest to be all-knowing rather than attempt to emulate him? Would not such a man be overcome in his inability to comprehend amidst the myriad of equally emphatically stated observations which diametrically oppose each other? Or perhaps even more so by those which share common ground before veering off in different directions.

Let’s, instead, see the genius of the simple-minded. Admiration is due for the streamlining of the decision process that seeks to borrow and repeat the opinions heard elsewhere as a ready substitute for the ponderous assembly and evaluation of raw (and often incomplete) facts. Not only does it conserve energies for our more entertaining and/or profitable activities, but it also lowers our sense of personal responsibility for the opinions we espouse in public as we redirect criticism towards those remote borrowed sources.

Triskaidekaphobia

Triskaidekaphobia

The power to procrastinate has always been mine;
It is an ability, someday, I may refine.
But my worst fault is preparation far in advance
For answers waiting for somebody to ask to dance.

I wish not to be caught by surprise, at least not twice,
So I rework solutions, though the first did suffice.
I am ready, quicker, when you ask the same again,
Until rapid responses cause you instead to complain.

“How,” you ask, “can I keep up busy, working all day
If you will anticipate the questions ere I say?
You grumble of your idleness, making you so bored,
When it’s your own bag of tricks full stuffed with answers stored.”

If I could just learn to wait, puzzles would take a week.
And you could bustle elsewhere while your answers I seek.
I could lower your expectations, filling my days
With inefficient bumbling instead of my old ways.

Macbeth on Mars

Macbeth on Mars
The infamous Macbeth has gathered renown
In cities and countries the world around.
His temptation, ambition, and destruction model
The lust and loss of a coveted citadel.

Despite his short struts upon the stages
Ending at the curtain throughout the ages,
Macbeth evokes from us an iconic remembrance
To climb to a level of global significance.

But who on Mars knows his name
And links their thoughts to his ill fame?
And outward, far amongst distant stars,
His meaning shrinks to nil just like ours.

By simple math, the proportion reduces
Of unchanged dividend as expanding divisor looses.
But is there truth in the numerator's steady state
As the opportunity of the denominator does dilate?

Does a man move to signify less
As his consideration does more address?
Is significance a relative ratio to the world
Or an absolute impact of an embodied role?

How does a man affect his world?
In solitary action outwardly hurled?
A thought, a ball, sent forth on sound,
Off the nearest obstacle to rebound.

And when that echoing ball comes back,
Does the man judge the extent of his impact?
And when from the cosmos, it never returns,
Does he despair of the void he discerns?

But people that volume with others to play,
To catch that ball, recast, and relay.
Though never again his bouncing ball to see,
His impact grows by the power of synergy.

The insignificant are those who clutch tight
What with others to share they might.
Nobody to propagate their selves in time nor space,
Alone in their walls to diminish without trace.

Doodling in the Dark

Doodling in the Dark

Sometimes our minds go adrift
With no pilot at the wheel.
Away they go, oh so swift,
Carried by our aimless zeal.

Gears still click 'tho time's not kept;
Those trusty tools know their trade.
Their output which none accept
Is nevertheless yet made.

They scoff at rest, defy sleep,
As they endlessly must churn.
O'er rolling mindscape they sweep
Seeking data and pattern.

With no challenge provided,
They build a task of their own.
Into dark holes, unguided,
They explore the land unknown.

So far away they can roam
While they're left so unattended.
But with a thought, they'll rush home
To do what we intended.

What's In A Name?

What's in a Name?

O Redskins, O Redskins! Wherefore art you Redskins?
Deny your fan base and refuse your name;
Or, if you wilt not, and keep your handle,
Who shall no longer be ticket holders?
'Tis but your name that is the enemy;
You are the team, though not the team logo.
What's a team logo? It is not play, nor field,
Nor coach, nor star, nor any player
Belonging to a team. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a team
By any other name would play as well;
So Redskins would, were you not Redskins called,
Retain that dear heritage you own
Without that label. Redskins, change your name,
And for that name which is no part of the game
Have box office sales.

---

Counterpoint

Is a Rose is a rose es una rosa?
Is a Cowboy is a cowboy es un vaquero?
Is a she is a flower es una flor?
Is a footballer is a ranchhand es un pastor de vacas?

A word is a word is a word,
But meaning is an use in a context.
The speaker chooses to use,
But listener hears his own setting.

Should we fault the speaker
For what is heard 'tho not meant?
May the ear request to come again
To confirm the intent spoken?

Is a Redskin is a redskin is a slur?
Is a team is a race is a hate?
When what is meant is not heard
Who can correct the error?

Passing through the Storyland Post Office

We have been assured that the Comic Access to Reports, News, And Communications (CARNAC) technology used to divine the contents of these sealed envelopes is not now nor planned to be employed by the NSA. Please, rest easy and pay no attention to that man behind your curtains.

---

Three Bears Residence
Enchanted Forest
Storyland, USA

Dear Bear Family,

In this day and age of uncertainty and crime, I am writing to offer you some peace of mind. Do you worry about your possessions, big, small, or in-between, every time you leave your home? What you need is a home security system, professionally installed, to deter those home invaders who would take advantage of you.

You may have considered such safeguards in the past, only to decide they are too expensive or too complicated. But we will work with you to find the solution that is just right for you.

Our representative will be in your neighborhood next week and is eager to stop in to discuss our flexible plans with you. We look forward to meeting you to explore how we together can protect the sanctity of your home.

At your service,

Goldie's Locks, Inc.
123 Fantasy Road
Storyland, USA

---

Dame Gothel or Current Occupant
Mystery Tower
Storyland, USA

Dear Occupant,

It has come to the attention of the Storyland Zoning Administrator's office that the Mystery Tower may not be in compliance with zoning and safety regulations. Our inspector made an unscheduled site visit yesterday and believes that the structure is now in use as an unapproved residence. He reported hearing singing from an upper chamber, but was unable to contact you (or your tenant) due to the apparent absence of any door. His attempts to find a door knocker or bell system to summon you were similarly fruitless.

A search of this office's records indicates that although a building permit was issued twelve years ago, you have never applied for a certificate of occupancy nor the qualifying inspections necessary to complete the construction process. Therefore, faced with the presumption of its unauthorized use, this office is writing to establish a time in the next three days for a complete inspection of the premise. Despite its isolated location, the Storyland zoning regulations still apply to all dwellings in this domain, including yours. They are enacted (and enforced) to protect us all from mitigable consequences of both routine and catastrophic circumstances through proper precaution and best practices.

Please Be Advised: If we do not hear from you to schedule an appointment, our staff and officers of the Bailiff will be onsite Friday equipped to enter the Mystery Tower and remove any residents therein without the requirement of your permission. An inspection of the property (beyond the assurance of removal of all occupants) cannot be conducted without your approval, but this office will begin condemnation procedures if we have not heard from you within the next 30 days. If so ordered, the Mystery Tower will be demolished (I shall personally see it blown up (best part of my job)).

Sincerely,

Zeke Midas Woolf, RA/AIA
Storyland Zoning Administrator
Storyland, USA

---

Farmer McDonald
McDonald Farm and Dairy
Storyland, USA

Sir:

We are writing to follow-up on the Council Meeting you attended last month. At that time, you pointed out that your diverse products are distributed to many Storyland homes on a regular weekly (or more frequent) basis. There was discussion at the meeting about the supplementing of our herald communication with printed materials on the packaging of your products.

Alas, the theoretical nature of such speculation has materialized into a real need. The woodcutter has reported that his children, Hansel and Gretel, have been missing for three weeks now. He believed they went in search for food, as his whole family has been starving (and to which his second wife succumbed last week), but they never returned,

The Council has budgeted funds to print the faces and story of the children on flyers. We are contacting you about the implementation of your proposal to affix these flyers to your milk jugs for this week's deliveries. The flyers accompany this letter.

Thank you for your dual sense of civic responsibility and practical frugality. We all hope for the most fortunate outcome from this enhanced communication made possible by your participation.

On behalf of the King and all citizens,

Prince Charming
Chairman, Storyland Council

---

Aurora Rosamund
King Stefan's Castle
Storyland, USA

Dear Miss Rosamund,

I am in receipt of your letter of April 2nd in which you inquire for information about hypersomnia, its causes and its cures. As a minor, I must advise you that I am unable to treat you as a patient without your parents' knowledge and consent. But let me assure you, there is no mechanism known to science by which a splinter from a spinning wheel can induce nacroleptic symptoms. It is much more likely that you have been the brunt of an unkind April Fools' prank. Perhaps it would be best simply to set your fears aside and enjoy your forthcoming Sweet Sixteen party.

Sincerely,

Ripton Van Winkle, MD
Catskill Center for Sleep Disorders
Tarrytown, NY

---

Peter Pan
Home Underground Neverwood
Never Neverland, USA

Dear Mr. Pan,

Please keep the enclosed card until you receive your Membership Kit. It will include your new card, as well as complete details on how to take advantage of the many membership rewards available to those over 50.

I'm sure you'll find that using just a few of your discounts (such as on air flights, cruises, hotels, and home security) can more than repay the cost of your membership.

You'll also appreciate AARP's trustworthy information and resources. It can help you protect your health, your money and your career, and make the most of life over 50.

Welcome to AARP!

Sincerely,

Methuselah Bristlecone
Director of Membership
Storyland AARP

---

Insignificance

Insignificance?

Macbeth strutted upon his stage
Unto his death to end his petty page;
The greatness of deed and misdeed shrink
As all disappear after a blink.

But, wait, do you know that name?
A lifeless character with everlasting fame,
Who breathed naught but fictional air,
A creature from pen and ink heir.

Was he created to line the purse
Of a self-centered dabbler of verse?
In his small world, the writer was king,
And all existed due to his making.

But in his more expansive view,
Away from him his importance flew;
The more who see his plays,
The less the impact his drama conveys?

A man's pettiness is more easily felt
By the tightness of the cinch upon his belt.
The shorter his reach, the less he touches,
The higher the boundary, the more hobbling his crutches.

Creator

Creator
(April 1, 1969)
“What are you called?”

“I am Captain David Robert Allen of the United Planets Stellar Forces.”

“Captain David Robert Allen is dead.”

What is this, Allen wondered. Where is he? Who are those voices? He could not take account of himself. He felt that he could not see, but that he knew there was nothing near him to see. Only those voices. Who are they?

“I am Captain David Robert Allen.”

“David Robert Allen is dead.”

“Where am I?”

“You are dead.”

Dead? Again he is told he is dead. But he could not remember. What happened? The ship? Yes, the ship! Where is the ship? What has happened to it?

“I am not dead.”

“You are.”

“How?”

“Your craft was destroyed in battle.”

The battle! Yes, that's right! He had been sent out to destroy the enemies of the State. A band of revolutionaries, inflaming the minds of men against the theocracy. Yes, he had been sent to do his duty, to destroy every last one.

“Is everyone dead?

“From your vessel, yes.”

“Where am I?”

“At your final destination.”

Final destination? Starport 54? No, this cannot be Starport 54. He was not to report there until he saw the last revolutionary die. The battle? Maybe they were all there. No, no, only a small fraction were there. With the help of God, it will still be months before he gets them all.

“Who are you?”

“Voices.”

“What is your purpose?”

“To test you.”

A test? Yes, yes, the test!! The test to enter paradise! He is dead and the voices are the gate-keeper. He would pass the test and meet his Maker. He is a devout, loyal member of the theocracy. He does penance and prays and gives offerings, And he follows the orders of the theocracy. He is a great warrior. Respected. Honored. Yes, he would meet his Maker.

“I am ready.”

“State your name.”

“David Robert Allen.”

“Of what society are you?”

“The benevolent and pious society of Earth and the United Planets.”

“What is your function in this society?”

“I am a loyal soldier of The Church of the Creator, chosen to defend against all enemies and heretics.”

“Means?”

Means? What kind of question is that? What other means are there?

“Death.”

“What are your beliefs?”

“I believe in the words of the Holy Bible.”

“Do you believe in and practice the universal ethic code?”

“Please explain.”

“What you know as the ten commandments and the golden rule.”

What kind of question is that? He has just said he believes in the words of the Bible. Of course he practices it. Everyone must. Why, it is even his job to execute those who do not and confiscate their possessions. They must just want a reinstatement of his devotion.

“Yes, I believe.”

“And practice?”

“Of course.”

Silence. Is that muttering he hears? What is wrong? He observes the ten commandments. Thou shall have no other gods before Me. Thou shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. Remember the sabbath day …

“Are you respected by other men?”

“Yes. I am very much respected. I am a religious man and a great warrior. I have been decorated for my bravery and ingenuity in battle. People flocked to my residence to see the trophies of my many battles. I ...”

“Enough. Where do you wish to dwell in the life hereafter?”

“Man shall dwell with his Creator.”

“Why?”

“Man was made in the image of his Creator.”

“That is true.”

Acknowledgement! He passed! They have accepted him as qualified to dwell with his Maker. He shall live eternally in paradise! Yes, he passed!

“It is decided by your traits of character and actions of life that you are destined to dwell eternally with your creator. Are you prepared to meet the creator of all men?”

“I am ready to meet my Maker.”

And the eternal flame engulfed him.

“Man, like his creator, makes a mockery of good in a lifetime of evil.”

Loose Screws

Loose Screws
There is an open box in my workshop
With loose screws and bolts to reuse someday
It is always there as a place to drop
Any such hardware that becomes a stray.

When I have a job for a screw or two,
I go to this tray to see what I find.
With hundreds of pieces for me to paw through,
A jigsaw puzzle it brings to my mind.

I spend many minutes 'til I recognize
The parts required for the latest chore.
I stir through the screws of every size,
Worse when I find one but really need four.

At times like that I say I should sort these
Into sets to speed any future hunt.
A small jar of wood screws to scan with ease
Without machine screws my eyes to confront.

So yesterday, the hours I indeed spent
Making the piles to divide bolt from screw.
Handfuls divided into their cans sent
And then again in smaller piles they grew.

It's a little corner set in order
From my life of general disarray.
My tendencies on mania border
Rarely ever to throw anything away.

Did You Miss Me?

Did You Miss Me?

Did you miss me?, said the mouse to the cat.
Sorry I had to dash away like that,
But when duty calls, a mouse can't say no
And must, with haste, to wherever called go.

Oh, were you gone? the cat replied to him.
I had my fur to groom and claws to trim.
So many more important things to do,
The dog and I had not a thought of you.

The dog asked, we have a cat in our home?
I have rabbits to chase and fields to roam.
There is no time to waste in my busy day;
I must be ready when Boy wants to play.

Mom called, have you walked the dog today, Boy?
You know that he is not just a stuffed toy.
Not now, he said, I've a ballgame to catch,
But I'll get to it right after the match.

Is that game today? Dad said from his chair,
I completely forgot, not I don't care,
But I need to be elsewhere, sorry, Sport;
Are you pitching, fielding or playing short?

Each at the center of his own universe,
Where, but briefly, others ever traverse,
We let pass without note, and small effect,
The doings of others in our neglect.

Froward Ho!

Froward Ho!

You plotted just what to say
With so much thought and tact,
Then froward tongue gives away
What you believe in fact.
The contrary organ lets slip
Enough to give you fits;
Your polite lie soon will trip
When loose lips undo wits.

Riding the Thirsty Mule: Norford's Story

As Tina timidly bowed to the applause for her poem, Norford wheeled himself to the kitchen to fetch the spice cake. He brought it to the table where Franklin sat and presented it with a small flourish, holding it just short of actual delivery. Franklin took the hint and dug into his purse for the payment required to complete the transaction. Norford set the cake down, sliced it into six pieces (glancing at the mysterious stranger and deciding to include him), and then picked up the coins.

"Franklin, what does your brother think of your coming here?" Norford asked gently. "Does he object to you spending the farm's profits on my few customers who amuse you?"

"It is my money. He got the farm when Da died and I got my share of the animals. Without the armies to feed, we do not have so much market as we did before, so I sold most of mine." Franklin protectively cupped his purse. "I will not be staying here forever," he said.

"Well, now, you do still have some beasts left in your holdings, right?" Norford queried. Franklin nodded. "So then, I was thinking that it has been a long and dull winter for all of us in Havenport. If I had a fattened pig, I could fire up the roasting pit outside and put on a feast like The Thirsty Mule used to serve for all who care to revel for the day and night. We could use the relief. I have not the money to buy the pig at the moment, but if you might 'loan' me one, I could pay you from my receipts from the feast. In exchange for my story tonight, that is."

"You would pay full price for the hog?" Franklin asked, considering.

"The folks here about will be eager for the chance to party a bit. With a bit of work to spread the word, I feel certain the feast will bring in enough to cover its full price. Do we have a deal?"

"Alright, we have a deal. What is your story?"

Fool's Errand

Minstrel traveled far and wide, for he was consumed with wanderlust. Sometimes he visited the homes of the great and, more often, the not so great. Few ever troubled him when they saw his small stature and motley fool's clothes, for they knew he would do them no physical harm and may instead bring them a few laughs and news of the world in exchange for their welcome.

One day as he crossed into a land he had not visited before, Minstrel met a man dragging a bridle. "What ho, gentle sir? I may be a fool, but even I do not lead behind me an invisible horse."

The unhappy Farmer explained he was heading home from a visit to his Lord's keep. He had ridden there that morning to protest the ill-timed taxes the Lord was exacting on his serfs. But instead of being granted relief, Farmer's horse was confiscated. "You best turn about druther than look for welcome there," Farmer advised him. "The Lord be the stingiest man ever born. Alas, what will I tell my wife and child? And how will I plow the fields?"

Minstrel opened his sack and asked Farmer to sit with him a while. As they nibbled on some of Minstrel's final pinches of bread and finished his water, they talked about the unhappy affairs in this land. At last, Minstrel offered Farmer the rest of his supplies for his family (although it was but a small cheese, two carrots, and a few bites of bread). "I regret that my pockets and my pouch are too empty to give you much comfort at this time," Minstrel said, "but if you have a dog and can come back to the castle along this road at cock's crow two mornings hence, leading your dog in this bridle, and I will see what I can do to help."

Puzzled but grateful, Farmer said he did have a dog and promised to do it. Farmer bade Minstrel farewell. Minstrel continued to the small village outside the keep's walls. He explored the marketplace and chatted with the merchants. He stopped at the stall of a green grocer and asked if he might rest on a barrel in return for a song. Grocer cordially invited him to sit. Minstrel brought forth his lute and he started to sing.

Oh, do not ask the fool
Whether you should fiddle
Or better you faddle.
For he knows both are true;
Either to future weave
Or else all unravel.

Why should you pay the fool
Who sings of everything
And all nothing as well?
For he hides where all see;
Both his bravest terror
And his weakest assail.

Oh, do not ask the fool
For advice in your joy
Or caution in your folly.
For he says both are false;
Neither the only course
Nor sure 'til you sally.

I once asked of the fool
Where my future did lay
And which path to follow.
But he said, spin around;
Both to see where I came
And to where I will go.

Now I am that same fool,
Dizzy in the new world
That awakes each morning.
I see too many ways;
So choose to go or stay --
From me, heed no warning.

As Minstrel sang, a crowd gathered at Grocer's stall. While there, some people examined his wares and made purchases. Grocer was pleased with the increase in his business. "Thank you kindly for your song, Minstrel," Grocer said. "Do you indeed foresee the future but not tell anyone what it will be? It seems poor business to make no use of such a gift."

"No, it is not the future I see, but two futures that compete for reality. Many seem quite silly, but they may happen as truly as their twins. What would it profit you to hear of a future you do not choose? And why pay me for the one you will choose on your own?"

"But maybe I would choose differently if I knew both." Grocer looked at Minstrel imploringly. "Could you give me a small hint?"

"I see today you brought one bushel of turnips and sold only a few. Tomorrow, if you wear your cap upside-down and your shirt inside-out and fill your cart with turnips, you will sell them all," Minstrel said, "but most will be at half the price you ask today. But if you bring none, you will sell none and wish you had brought many. A day later may be too late. Well, that is the advice of a fool and you have been warned of its value. I am rested now and I thank you."

"Again, thank you, Minstrel. Here, please take an apple for your song. And your advice," Grocer said.

"For the song. The advice is free." Minstrel strolled away, eating the apple leisurely as he explored further. Others in the marketplace who had heard his song or of the rumors of his future sight approached him to ask what he foresaw for them. To each he repeated his warning of the worthlessness of his advice, but he gave in to their eagerness and made his two-sided predictions. To some, he gave similar choices of tomorrow's inverted clothing and many half-priced sales versus meager sales if they did not oversupply their stalls that day. To others, he suggested that a reversed cap or apron or skirt would catch good luck tomorrow, but dressing the same as today would do them no better than it had done today. When they offered him something for his advice, he refused unless he provided a song, the only trade item he had of real value, he claimed. Many accepted the bargain with thoughts that they were twice rewarded for the same price. Thus he collected some coins and food to refill his purse and sack.

Later that afternoon, an officer and two soldiers from the castle stopped Minstrel in the marketplace. Minstrel said fearfully, "Oh, I have taken nothing but in exchange for a song. I am only a traveling minstrel. I have done no harm."

The officer answered, "Fear not, Minstrel. We have been sent by the Lord to invite you to entertain him tonight. He heard of your presence in his shire and wishes to receive your news. And other services."

Minstrel was escorted into the keep and offered a bed of straw in the servants' quarters. While he waited for dinnertime, he sat in the kitchen, swapping jokes and news with the staff. The story of his gift for prophesy had reached them, but he denied his confused visions had any value. In conversation with the head cook, he said, "I notice that the keep's larders are understocked."

"Aye, the Lord will pinch a coin as long as he can before he will buy supplies," Cook explained. "We spend more time looking for the fixing for a meal often than with its cooking."

"It is just a fool's folly, I assure you, but I learned when fools abound, food is easily found," Minstrel told her.

"What do you mean? Do you have a vision of the future where fools abound? Please tell us."

"It may not happen at all. I never know. But I see a marketplace full of merchants gone mad. They bring more than they could possibly sell in a day. If a shrewd buyer shows up on that day, tomorrow I foresee, he could stock his holds for months to come by buying all they have and only need to offer half the price. But if the madness does not come tomorrow, it may not come at all," Minstrel concluded.

"Perhaps Seneschal and I should check out the market tomorrow," Cook said as she left to find the man entrusted with the Lord's purse.

Shortly later, Minstrel was called into the great hall to entertain for the Lord's dinner. It was not a lavish meal served to Lord, his family, and his retinue. They ate scarcely better than Minstrel's serving of bread and vegetable stew which he gulped in a few bites between songs.

After the meal was consumed, Lord dismissed everyone except Minstrel whom he beckoned to his table. "Minstrel," he asked suspiciously, "Why did you come to my domain? You are a talented lad, but we have had no visits from such as you in a long time."

"I did not come, milord, 'though I be here true enough," Minstrel replied. "For between then and there, I must be some here now. I do not know what next is to be nor how last became no more."

"But I heard that you do see the future," Lord probed.

"Oh, no, milord. It is not so simple as that -- only I am such a simpleton. It is true that my head is often confused with two images of tomorrow. But I cannot be sure which will happen for both seem as likely and as unlikely to me. It is not a vision worth trusting, so I do not try to choose."

"You must choose, Minstrel, for you go forth each day to live one of the two visions you have."

"You are more clever than I, milord, but perhaps I can explain this better. Could you give a copper to demonstrate?" Minstrel asked.

Lord considered this request, but reluctantly reached into his pouch to retrieve the requested coin. "And how will this copper help you explain?" he asked as he hand it to Minstrel.

Minstrel turned over two drinking cups on the table in front of the Lord. "Now, suppose these are two futures that fought in your brain for you to believe they were what tomorrow will bring. I place your coin under one cup. Which do you choose?" Minstrel asked.

"This one with my coin." Lord picked up the cup to reveal the penny.

"Now, suppose that your brain is easily befuddled like mine," Minstrel continued, placing the cup down on the coin again and starting to shuffle the cups back and forth. Lord watched intently, but soon Minstrel had increased the speed beyond his ability to track. "And which do you wish to choose now?"

"I still want my coin back." Lord was mildly annoyed. "But you have indeed confused me. I will choose this one." Lord lifted the cup and smiled when he saw the penny.

"Ah, you got what you wanted, milord. Very good," Minstrel said, "But let's look under the other cup." Minstrel picked up the second cup, and there were two copper coins under it. "I think I would rather have had this cup," he shrugged.

"I thought the other cup had nothing," Lord pouted.

"Yes, I sometimes find that the empty cup hides more despite what my limited wits can see. It did not seem possible, silly even, to believe it so, but although I might choose one path for its straight forward familiarity and logic, it is the unlikely one that might prosper me more." Minstrel scooped up the two coins and returned them to his pouch (from which they had come unseen by Lord).

"And is there some other meaning to this revelation?"

"Has Seneschal asked you for more market money than usual?" Minstrel asked.

"Yes, quite a lot more."

"And you chose to keep your penny, right?"

"Yes," Lord replied, wondering why he should not be thrifty as always.

"Then, tomorrow you shall have your penny. But you will not have the two pennies worth of market goods that a fool's vision thought possible. It is an easy choice for you, but I lack the wits to decide or know what will happen."

"Here, keep this penny, Minstrel, for your advice," Lord said dismissively, pushing the coin across the table to him.

"No, milord, only for the songs. Thank you for the dinner and bed tonight. A peaceful rest to you," Minstrel said as he left.

Lord thought about what Minstrel had said. Twice as much for the same price. He called Seneschal and told him to go to the market tomorrow to find bargains if any exist. "Buy what you can, but do not offer more than half for anything," Lord demanded.

The next morning, although a few merchants had decided to conduct their business as normal, many elected instead to dress in disarray and load all they could on their carts for sale that day. The atmosphere in the market became very festive as they saw others so humorously dressed. Shoppers joined in the gaiety and soon found the merchants eager to bargain large purchases for low prices. Items long buried in their inventories at last found buyers. And the Seneschal did indeed have a very successful shopping spree. Minstrel roamed through the market, performing his songs and receiving the generous thanks from all in his foresight of such a special day.

Minstrel was again invited to the Lord's castle to perform that night. The joy of the marketplace had spread into the castle where more than one could be seen oddly appareled. The cook and her staff were giddy with the profusion of supplies and eager to prepare their finest dishes for that night's meal. "A feast, whether the Lord ordered it or not," they proclaimed.

And indeed, all in the great hall that evening, even Lord, reveled in the improvement of their diet. Minstrel sang and others joined in. The assembly lasted many times longer than the previous night, but finally the Lord and Minstrel were again alone at the head table.

"I took your advice, Minstrel," Lord said gratefully.

"I did not give it," Minstrel replied, "but I am happy that you benefited by it."

"Do you see something for tomorrow?" Lord asked, dismissing Minstrel's denial.

"Yes, as surely as the sun rises, I am always plagued with this bickering couple debating their ridiculous possibilities. Do not trust a fool to advise you, milord," Minstrel beseeched him.

"I have a pair of visions, too, Minstrel," Lord joked. "I see that if I pay you well for 'your songs' tonight, you will tell me what tomorrow may bring. But if I pay you a penny as I did yesterday, I will get nothing. Do you think one of my visions might be true?"

"I think both might be true. And both might be false. Are you able to chose which you want tonight?" Minstrel asked.

"It is quite against my nature to waste my money," Lord stated.

"Then, you should keep it, milord. As you did with the cups last night. You chose the more logical as your nature saw it. What happened today may not happen again tomorrow."

"I have not seen my people behave like today ever before. Has my nature mislead me and them? Here, Minstrel, a purse rather than a penny. Will you tell me what you foresee?"

"Very well. If you arise at dawn and look to the west, you will see a farmer who hopes to train his dog to plow his fields. His horse is in your stable, eating your grain, and he does not have the normal means to produce a crop this year. But if you arise at noon and look to the east, you will see nothing that you did not see there today." Minstrel made a small bow and swept the Lord's purse from the table to his belt. "Do you know when you will awake tomorrow?"

"Is this Farmer who came to complain yesterday?" asked Lord. "He said he could not pay his levies until summer."

"Dogs may do wondrous things when we do not wonder whether they do anything at all. Perhaps you will yet receive Farmer's taxes. Or perhaps not. I think this silly nonsense, but you might be wiser."

"I shall meet Farmer along the road and exchange his horse for his wondrous dog," said Lord. "Tomorrow's eastern view does not offer me anything, but there is profit to the west." Lord was pleased with his decision.

And thus, Farmer did get his horse back that next morning. Lord even decided to let him keep (and feed) the dog. Lord and Farmer agreed to an extension on when the payments were due.

As Lord returned to his castle from his morning errand, he met Minstrel at the gate, ready to continue his wandering.

"Minstrel, you must stay. I need your visions to help guide me," Lord implored.

"No, I must go. You must stay. But not necessarily as you were. As you told me last night, you have twin visions, too," Minstrel jested. "Spin around, milord, and see more of what surrounds you. When you choose, you may find paths you never traveled before take you to the best places you have never been before." With that, Minstrel twirled around several times, stopped, and staggered off in the direction his nose was pointing.