bestial_belching_at_the_table oldephebe Auntie Flow-rida unconsciously shielded her rather genrous helping (her third to be exact) of rhubarb pie against the back draft of his great gale wind series of belches. They were wet, resonant, they were magesterial, they rose like a cadenza of absolute freedom and complete disdain for his distant cousins families almost fascist observance of table decorum. His belches were the stuff of legend, deep boweld and euphonious like the sad smile of a tuba, like Yo Yo Ma playing Bach etudes and extemporaneously expanding and contracting Bachs brilliant lietmotifs--a great iron flower opening and closing its brilliant song, each rustle of it's yellow petals were like a seismic tremor. They would come to call him "The Thunderer" and what followed from the initial repugnance was a kind of awed respect, in that he did not allow Auntie Flow-rida and the petty despotisms of the matriarchal tyranny that had ruled over the family for generations to impose it's capricious whim and dictates over him. He spat on thier puerile concept of evolved rationalism. He would be the splinter that wedged itself deep in the shag, deep into the musculature, he would rupture an artery, he would be the splinter that would cause the fatal infection in this system of Uber-Victorian behavior modification that imposed a despotic rectitutde on its members. He would whet the others, the young and diffident to be become radicalized and defiant, he would whet thier appetite for justice by this one simple expression of absolute indifference to the oligarchy of ironed jawed matronly women that ruthlessly subdued any expression of self actualization and independant thought. He would NOT adopt the tactics of the emasculated men and the cowering women conditioned to be subserviant-- that the oh so little ripples of passive aggressive discontent that asserted thier hope gradually, gingerly and glacially purchase thier freedom. "There will never be a more propitious time than now" He would urge them secretly, and against the congenitial disorder of his brilliant and yet somehow (in that avuncular absent minded way) befuddled mind. "In time, because of these uncompromising representations of our will, our determination they will come to not only acknowledge the inevitable, but to endorse it as well." (well maybe not endorse it, it appears that the horned head of his Napoleonic/Savior complex has breached the surface of his carefully cultivated posture of contempt for decorum and all manner of mores and social codes--'cause he loved to see the combustion of moral panic in thier wide startled eyes.) And so after he by belching, salvo after innopurtune salvo of seismic and somehow euphonious belches, rose. After he had risen to the hieghts of his gutteral eloquence, they began to see that there was more TO him than just his deep chest, broad back and wide shoulders and tree trunk legs. "Look into my eyes and see the blazing torch fires of freedom!" "I came here from half a continent away to be with you here, to tell you that the power we vest in others is incidental to our freedom, our liberation from the thralldom of others" he continued his voice rising, "I came here to tell you, to remind you--Do you remember the resiliency of our innocense? We can reclaim it! We can reclaim the innocense and authority of our unchained guiless beings!" He paused as if to let his spirit and the those of the assembled gather and stride into the lacunae, the spaces between his words, he paused as if to let them drink in the import and the whieght and the consensus the now apparent consensus building. "We must speak with one voice, the voice of the revolutionary, We must step from the shadows to shake the pillars, even as we shake with our own fear!" Auntie Flow-rida cast an imperious glare directly at the mountain across from her and he seemed amused by it. Later, he would say to his cousins, "Thier injunctions and declarations are NOT summoned from some well of priveldged understanding, it is not the dispassionate voice of the rationale elite, the evolved rationalist. This is the voice of willful, remorseless dehumanization and I, as you are, are opposed to it, opposed to inquisition, opposed to thoughtless acts of oppression and the expense of anothers dignity. Are we not all bound by blood?" Someone:"But don't you think we are crossing the line here? I mean..." His voice wavered tremulously... The Thunderer: "We will do more than just cross the line decorously." "We MUST!" In another part of the family manor several women whose ages ranged from 58 to 78 sat in circle, the windows were closed the curtains drawn and the table was adorned in a ceremonial kind of cloth, nine candles were lit for the nine gods of pennance. Auntie Flo began her incantation.."... ... 050814 ... oE meant to say 'he would whet the others APPETITE for justice' ... 050814 ... mild heat stroke another disconnected free association blather brought to you by the folks at Kerouacs Shadow a Subsidiary of Faulkneresuque Time Dilation Strategies Co. ... 2005 oldephebe 050814 ... ... much props to jack micheline, a great free flow poet RIP baybeh ... 050814 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Eating with your hands likewise causes a stir, especially when the others catch a glimpse of the jagged teeth and rudimentary esophagus embedded in your palms. (This is a tribute. Burp.) 210712 what's it to you? who go blather from