Full Court Press...

So, he's a complete Queen.

And he wants me in His Court.

All I can say is, "Who could possibly complete against two queens on the board?"

Talk me out of it.

Seriously.

Can anyone really afford to upset my strategy?

I have this.

He's a Jester in the Court of Love.

~AC

And the Sun Came Out to Play...

It's been a pretty Spring so far....a little damp and cool at times but today is just beautiful. It reminds me to count my blessings as they are as numerous as the Narcissus blooming this afternoon. I read Peter Cotton tail and got a little perspective on being too curious and over-doing it. So, I suppose I'll go back to busting cases again when I have had enough rest and Vitamin D.

What a beautiful day!

~AC

The Hydra of Benghazi

Congratulations to Britannia...

Thanks also to our SEALS, SQUIDS, and SWABS.

An open-hearted letter to all those who serve::

It is a sin to use vice to justify a wrong action.
It is chaos of proportions immense and uncouth.
It is the smart way of doing the very worst things.
It brings darkness to light and bars healing truth.

The Hydra was fierce in its armor of stinging.
Battled greatly it did -- poisoning many alive.
It turned back many attacks provoked by live ammo.
But, to defend itself was the plan it contrived.

The one small scientific mind of a child.
Curious and deeply introspective was she.
Said, "All hands on deck, let's build us a sub."
The preparations took all of a week.

Then Britain came in with an X-ray.
The Machine was mighty to behold.
This Hydra, they say, is made of jelly inside.
Killing it will be worth all our gold.

And a little girl slept, dreaming of monsters.
And she saw the small, yellow sub make its decent.
She saw the X-ray machine slice apart the whole scene.
And the Hydra became a'trophy to present.

The night this story was born.
She lay inside her room on her bed.
Her father in duress, her mother a mess.
And The Libyans bringing death to the head.

*****

Be brave, be fearless, for nightmares,
While seemingly harmless are true.
We wake up from the dream
Trying to capture the thing.
But, in the end it is known only by you.

*****

Goodnight, Mr. President.

~AC

What I was going to say...

When the truth broke in about ice storms... (Robert Frost - Birches)

Was that I am exhausted flipping over icebergs (ice-cold cold-cases) just to find that they are about the same size from North to South and East to West and Top to Bottom (Square, Level, and Plumb). And, the only reason I am kept out of the actual loop is because putting me in it would step on a bunch of well-sandeled cloven hooves.

Pedicures?

Perhaps you would prefer me to anoint your fat, piggy feet with oil and dry them with my fragrant hair?

At some point, hopefully in the near future, one of you ignoramuses (look it up so you are not so offended) needs to have a conversation in SL that goes like this.

"Paige, I have a problem." You will say.

"What is the problem?" I will ask.

"There is a cold case from Arkansas that has been dead for 30 years and we don't have the people to keep fact-checking all the false leads and insane conspiracy theories -- that we have on file, in boxes, on paper."

...or some such rot...

I will say, "it was the butler."

You will say, "what else do I need to know?"

And I will say, "HC paid ML over $2M ($2.143M in stock options...at Pappy's Company) the day ML's dress was cleaned and the DNA sample proved it was BC to get the play -- [BC didn't care as the entire Brotherhood thought it was a coup] -- to seduce HC's husband so HC could ride BC's ass all the way into the White House. HC liked the power so much she thought she might actually try to build a Political career. It is the story of the Puppet, the Poppet, and the Pro."

BC is the Puppet
ML is the Poppet
HC is the Pro

You will say, "Seriously?!"

I will respond, "Men fight battles. Women wage wars. The difference is attention span."

End of Transmission.


Pause.


Overheard:

Did HC actually just ask me to pay her when she sues me for defamation of character? Do I want to pay HC? Sweetheart, I already own you and you have NO CREDIBILITY so DEFAMING YOUR CHARACTER is moot. I have the emails about Benghazi on my servers. I keep them safe until there is a need-to-know and right now...the public doesn't. That's all.

Keep your nose clean and buy your husband a nice bottle of Glenlivet.

Scotch made even Braveheart seem like a movie with an actual plot.

###

~AC

Putting-up with it...

In the South we have a saying, "We are putting-up with it."

Now this is not the same thing as accepting it.

This just means we are living with something of heinous injustice until we gain a high enough ground to drown out the stupid. The danger, of course, is that taking the high-road means a bigger fall if we slip. But, the raining down justice on the heads of our enemies from the top of the mountain is...priceless.

Bring it on. I've lived this long, still trudging the high road with all the trip-wires and snares. If God was going to drop me, I'd have surely fallen hard by now. At this point, I am just following His map with a lantern at my feet, a book, a bell, and a prayer.

More cases to be closed soon.

Volunteer work is tough.

But, having an open-ended deadline...that my B&G...is what is saving your jobs.

So, I am putting up with the crass commentary of your voyeuristic tendencies, and I am putting up with the incredulous disbelieving -- which turns to unsteady unbelief -- which turns to case closed, and I am putting up with the fact that I have to sit here, hoping that it works, while closure is brought to the families of the damned.

Because we have to dance around the carousel of entrapment.

Oh yes, I am putting up with it...for now.

~AC

Dragging on Me...

This day has been dragging on me. I am so glad it is almost over. Missing people and putting them on my prayer list...and listening to the voices laugh that I might pray for anyone at anytime when I am so inconsistent in everything I do.

But, tomorrow is "Bust the Fool Day" and I am looking forward to the work.

~AC

No Such Listing

So, I was thinking about how quickly Interpol adjusted to my style while the FBI is just so resistant to anything they cannot prove beyond reasonable doubt. CIA trusts me, nearly implicitly, and I am even bringing another, very cautious Agency around...slowly.

But, the things that really get to me right now are not the cases. I keep that non-sense at arm-length  -- so I can avoid an emotional crash and burn over the injustice and insanity of it all. The things that really get at me are the dreams that teach me the personal lessons I have needed for so long.

Take last night for an example.

Here is the dream.

Shaz and I had been in the hotel for a while, the joy of being together without interruption reminding of the days of joy -- mint julep masques, chess by the fire, reading in bed. He was showing off his new clothes, deep Merlot shirt and trousers. The room in cream and wood tones, so homey, so us. And then, a conga line of co-eds dancing through the halls of the hotel, through the lobby, on the terraces.

Then, I was leaning over the railing. Shaz was sitting at a table for four, the drug dealer on his right and his best friend on his left. His best friend spoke to me...warning me to let it go. The drug dealer, cap on sideways, stared off into space willing to be ignored (no such luck a-hole).

And as I awoke, I asked Shaz to show me his eyes.

He did.

Snake eyes, glossy, and shining at me.

I looked up the archetype.

No such listing.

~AC

Telepathy

Speaking with the dead is not as scary as it sounds. In fact, it is rather comforting to know that we often keep our consciousness after our bodies have expired. It means we are immortal...in a sense. But, I have to admit, to be bombarded with conversations can be a little extreme.

The first one-hundred times it happens you really do think you are crazy. It's people saying your name when no one is there, snippets of conversations, music -- much more intense than the mere earworm, hearing more than your own voice in your head as you read, or having some little voice answer your mentally-rhetorical questions. It all collides into this strange cacophony of cuckoo.

Then, after awhile, if you are lucky enough to receive a little bit of help, you start to get the jumbled mess straightened out and begin to feel much better about it.  I'll admit, the desire to kick-off this plane of existence is strong at first. The voices are sometimes very mean, hateful, hurtful, or just self-righteous. But, eventually, if you stick with it, you can learn to kick the ugly ones out, choose or not choose to listen to the ones left behind, and maybe even befriend one or two.

The thing is the entire situation seems spontaneous. Think of an ex-boyfriend first thing when you wake up and he's right there. Live on the East Coast, wake up at 6:00 AM and you'll wake him up in LA at 3:00 AM. Funny only until he starts acting out because he is sleep-deprived.

Then there are the truly mean ones, like the ex-fiance who is so twisted he thinks you are the impetus for all his issues, and he just roars at you to stay out of his mind. But, it's karmic justice in a lot of ways. If you can keep it under control.

Telepathy.

It's a bitch.

~AC

My Loss

She said, "get off that right now!"


He checked on me.
He looked in on me.
He knows I am alive.


I'm documenting it because it happened.


And because I am on the verge of tears knowing He cared enough to even make the attempt...

Even if it was my loss.


~AC

Simple...Green...Liars...

I spent the better part of last night and this morning thinking about politics. Of all the topics in the world...including war...rape...and...death...I hate politics the most. Because politics are what makes the world an impossible fuster-cluck.

It is pretending to be friends with people while back-stabbing the very people with whom you share your almost-most-sincere smiles. It is, by far, the most dangerous and hell-bound directive in the world.

Silence is by far a quicker way to Peace.

I wonder what would happen if, instead of speaking, clapping, and carrying-on in the hallowed chambers in Washington, we made it illegal to speak until the debate is offered under the actual rules.

I need to meditate and cleanse my environment.

There is too much trash in my mind that is taking up valuable silent space.

Trip them all, God.

Trip them and help them back-up.

It is the only way to stop bullying...short of bullets.

~AC