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Dragon's Law

Three peasants woke from their drunken stupor, lying on the floor of a gloomy cave lit by a single candle on a stone desk. Behind the desk sat a shiny red dragon, his scaly horned tail twitching back and forth, wisps of smoke rising from his nostrils as he breathed. The frightened peasants cowered, holding each other, and one asked, “Where are we? How did we get here? Who are you?” The dragon looked up from the documents he was reading and answered, “You are in my office and I am your lawyer.” “Your office? Our lawyer?” quaked a peasant, all staring at the dragon’s bright red eyes piercing the gloom. “Yes, your lawyer.” The dragon pointed a manicured claw at the Scales-of-Justice statue on his desk. “ You have been accused of theft.”  “Theft?” replied one of the peasants. “Yes,” the dragon reached over and opened a folder on his desk, a quick glance, “of stealing three mugs of ale.” “We didn’t steal any ale. The mugs were on a table by the side of the road.” “Did you have permission to …

Sleeping Beauty - a Fractured Fairy Tale

Wicked Queen Elizabeth stood before her Magical All-Seeing Mirror.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s the most beautiful in all the lands?” “Well, it was you, my formerly exalted beautiful but terribly wicked queen.Now it is sweet, lovable, innocent Princess Jasmine in the kingdom down the country road from here.” “Ag, I hate her,” declared Wicked Queen Elizabeth as steam hissed from her awesome and quite kissable ears. By now you have realized that Wicked Queen Elizabeth was quite vain about her looks.She had the master makeup artist and the superior skilled hairdresser – the ones who won multiple Oscars for their movie work - in all the lands as her servants.Her boudoir had an especially larger than normal alcove with mirrors, where she stood for days admiring herself. Wicked Queen Elizabeth decided to regain her status as an exalted beauty with a wicked deed.She cast an evil sleeping spell upon an apple. 

Disguising herself as a lowly servant (an extremely difficult thing to do if you a…

Fault Lines

Makenna felt the first tremor just a week after the honeymoon ended. Some dishes fell out of the cabinet and crashed. By the time things were back to normal, Zane was volunteering to help store the rest of the dinnerware in a safer spot. They stood back and admired the new arrangement. Surely, such a calamity would never recur ... and they had both learned from it.

But it did happen again. Each time, they had to pick up the pieces in a different part of the house. Sometimes it was the bedroom, other times the garage, and once or twice the living room. Each time, they convinced themselves it was an isolated incident, and the damage was fixable.

Thirteen years later, they emerged from the lawyer's office, divorce papers fresh and crisp in hand. It was only then that they discovered the information that had been obvious to everyone around them ... everyone but them.

They'd built their foundation on the San Andreas Fault.

The Meaning of Success

Previously in this blog, I’ve mentioned Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). I self-diagnosed about 8 years ago, and it’s made a significant difference in my ability to organize, plan, and manage my time. This revelation about myself arose from an idle question: What was wrong with Dad?

My father (gone nearly 27 years now) had chronic problems with finishing projects and getting all excited about random things in unpredictable patterns. He did what many folks with ADHD do: He overcompensated, getting up hours and hours early in the morning to ensure he wouldn’t be late for work. He was obsessive about making sure his belongings were put away the same way every time – and he hounded me to do the same. My father never knew he had ADHD. He grew up in the 1920s and 1930s, when no one had heard of such a thing. His inability to figure out math, and no doubt a lot of other self-management difficulties, led him to drop out of high school and live with that stigma throughout…

Take Your Medicine

Here's a bit of irony - as medicine saves our lives, medicine is slowly killing us too.

It's heresy to write that but here is how it happens. We will use diabetes as our example. 

In the past, people with diabetes would eventually get sick and die. Untreated diabetes increases risks of strokes and heart attacks.  But before that, there is blindness, lost nerve functions, amputated toes and feet, and some other horrible outcomes I don't want to mention here.

As a result of passing, diabetics would not live long enough to have children. That means the number of people who would get diabetes and pass it on to family gets smaller and smaller and eventually diabetes, well, dies out. 

Today, thanks to medicine, diabetics can live a long life. They live to ninety or more and become great-great grandparents. That means they are passing on diabetes to their children, lots of children. Diabetes does not die out but grows. That is partly why we see the huge rise in pre-diabetes nowadays.

The Price of a Dollar

I am sitting on the sidewalk at 57 Street and Madison Avenue, a fancy neighborhood just around the corner from Trump Tower.  My cardboard sign - I am homeless. Can you please help - on the ground in front of me next to my collection hat.

A shadow falls on me. I look up to see a beautiful well-dressed woman standing there. Good heavens! I can only steal a tag line from Calvin Klein's ads, her curves wore the dress and she inflamed men as she walked.

She reviews me from head to hat then says, “I see you have a dollar in your hat. Give it to me and I will give you the keys to a Ferrari.”

I stare at this Venus, imagining away what would be if she were mine.

"Hellooo," she says, breaking into my thoughts. “It’s yours for a dollar,” she says pointing to a red Ferrari parked at the curb behind her.

Looking at her, I recover to ask, "Wait-a-minute! Why are you doing this? That's a very expensive and valuable car.” 
She replies, "it's yours.  What do you care why?&quo…