Skip to main content

Do not read this...

...before you read the previous chapter linked right here.

Robin, chapter 2

Young Robin lived with her grandmother in a cabin in the wilderness of Sherman's forest.  There, they tended a lush garden, and kept several hens.  Whatsoever they had in excess, Robin sold at the nearby market in Notsburry.

Robin-- [14 years old, not overly short (and still growing, she would add), happy, and slightly reckless; clad in simple trousers and a loose shirt; fair skinned, red headed, lightly freckled; lithe and spring heeled; she is a born athlete] When there was nothing to sell, I would perform at the market.

GRANDMA-- [a friendly, sturdy presence; tall and muscular with impeccable posture; dressed similarly to Robin; she has greying hair and a well worn smile] She's famous, you know.

ROBIN-- [never flustered] Not really.  I do tricks with a bow, staff, or sword, and when I get tired, I play music.

GRANDMA-- She can pry pennies from the most miserly of merchants.  [both grin]

Still more fond of coin were Notsburry's bankers.  Between the lot of them, they never gave Robin so much as a dime.  [We see a Scrooge-like codger counting out money, irritably closing his window to Robin's tunes.]  Now, Harold Wulf, the Sheriff of Notsburry, found himself deeply indebted to these same men, and, unable to pay on a civil servant's salary, fell neatly into their pockets.

HAROLD-- [middle aged; sporting a full beard; his black, curly hair is seeing its first flecks of grey; his slightly pudgy, but still powerful, frame bears itself proudly in a colourful doublet as he strolls through town]  It's rather cozy, actually.

This is how the banks were easily able to foreclose on properties whose mortgages they may or may not have legally held.  It was the Sheriff's job to deliver notices of foreclosure, eviction, and all the rest, and to effect the same, if needs be.  So it happened on one bright, spring day, that Sheriff Harold Wulf found himself travelling into Sherman's forest, questionable letters in hand, on his way to Robin's house, a home upon which no mortgage had ever been owed.

Next Chapter


  1. This is kind of an easy way to understand how government and businesses collude...

    *roots for Robin*


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

More Political Notes

-Rick Santorum seems a somewhat likeable guy who believes several crazy, distasteful things. It may not be helpful to say his ideas are nuts, but it still is less useful to fashion him an evil man because his discriminatory views don't jive with the left, centre, or centre-right in America.

-Calling a person a 'front runner' before votes are counted is just plain wrong.  Calling one a front-runner after some votes are counted is slightly misleading.  The race isn't about who the media thinks is ahead, and it is only indirectly about who gets the most votes.  What really matters is accruing the most delegates.  In the race for a major party's nomination for POTUS, the guy with the most delegates-who-will-actually-vote-for-him-at-their-national-convention is ahead. If no delegates have been awarded, there isn't really a front-runner, no matter what polls might say.

-I doubt the primary process will hurt the eventual Republican nominee for POTUS all that much.…

Pointless Ruminations on the Absurd

The world around us is in no way required to conform to our expectations, beliefs, or desires. Rather, it is all but guaranteed to disappoint us, at least once or twice a lifetime. The loftier (or more deeply felt) our ideals, the more this may be true.

When we accept this incongruity and are keenly aware of it, but cannot change our thinking, absurdity steps in. The world no longer quite makes sense. It is untethered from rational or moral concerns, adrift in a bizarre joke told by no one.
Desire for normative order is often irrational and misplaced. Placing ethical constraints on amoral matters makes no sense. Yet these appear (sometimes, seemingly) inescapable conclusions. Hence the sensation of absurdity.

We can apply these incongruous demands to anything and anyone. But this is not a universal philosophy. It is a philosophy of the self, a diagnosis.

Magical Unrealism

The same men who say global warming is a hoax, Obamacare has been failing for eight years, and abstinence-only sex-ed works are also convinced even basic gun control is an impossible and useless approach which would only make us less safe. These are also the dudes most likely to tell you black and brown folk have it too good, Obama is a secret Muslim born in Kenya, and Sharia law is being forced on American legal systems. I wonder if there's some sort of overarching thread or theme to all this.