The Infinite Echo

B. Thomas Cooper is a freelance journalist, photographer, blogger and historian. Topics include Political Commentary, Satire and History

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Thursday, December 28, 2006

Failing the Course of Gravity

The Infinite Echo
B. Thomas Cooper

“The world of fools has such a store,
That he who would not see an ass,
Must abide at home, and bolt his door,
And even break his looking glass.”


Honey, I’m home!

So then, have you ever read Robert Elliot’s book, The Power of Satire?
Neither have I, but this morning I began reading a book by an author who claims he has. The name of the author is George A. Test. His book is titled: Satire (Spirit and Art).

I hadn’t even completed reading the introduction before my heart filled with trepidation. Here are the first three sentences in their entirety. I leave nothing to the imagination.

“The emotions that are thought to give rise to satire are generally acknowledged to be the least admirable human emotions-anger, malice, hatred, indignation. The emotions that satire are said to evoke are likewise emotions that make most people uncomfortable- shame, anger, guilt, anxiety. The view of humanity in satire is a negative one- tumultuous, crowded, aggressive, cynical, pessimistic.”

I have a confession to make. I fear I may be a satirist.

Not all the time, mind you. Still, I find this of great concern. Consider the following, culled from the first sentence of the second paragraph:

“It is not surprising then, that satirists have been the most persecuted of artists- exiled, silenced, sued, physically attacked.”

Do you see what I mean? This is indeed, a disturbing development. Thank the good Lord, my dear old mother didn’t live to read this. It would have worried her to death!

For some inexplicable reason, I am reminded of that guy at the carnival who sits on a seat suspended above a tank of water, hurling insults and expletives at all comers. We in turn, attempt to dump the bastard into the icy drink by hurling baseballs at a shiny red button that activates the latch on his seat. We are willing to shell out our hard earned cash to participate in this cruel ritual, and folks seem to enjoy themselves.

Thus is the thrust of humanity. Pity the poor satirist who is fool enough to put it all into perspective for us.

So be it.

I suppose I should attempt to address this issue at greater length when time allows, but I must wrap it up for now. I need to go bolt my door. An angry mob is forming in my driveway.

The Infinite Echo

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Thursday, December 21, 2006

Happy Holidays!

The Infinite Echo
B. Thomas Cooper

Happy Holidays to All!

I’ll begin by apologizing to those of you who have been waiting patiently for me to report. Some of you have gone so far as to call my residence to voice your concern. Fear not, for I have responded. I have received more mail in my absence than I normally receive for a standard six hundred word tirade. I thank you, and I urge you to seek professional help immediately.

Don’t get all teary eyed. We have much catching up to do, and the candle is burning, my friend. Christmas is now but a few days away. Many presents have yet to be purchased, let alone, wrapped and distributed. Thank the good lord above (thanks be to Allah, etc.) I can always count on Santa to bear the brunt of the load.

Yes, the holiday season is again upon us. Rest assured good old Saint Nick knows who’s been naughty and who’s been nice, no matter what Scooter Libby or Dick Cheney may say to the contrary. After all, it certainly isn’t nice to shoot your hunting buddy in the noggin, accident or no accident. I recommend two lumps a piece. Of coal, that is, but then I assume you knew where I was going with it.

Ah, but I digress.
Christmas rapidly approaches, and I fear I am ill prepared. We acquired our Christmas tree in the usual manner, and from the usual suspects, whom we have since ascertained use the proceeds to fund a covert children’s hospital in a bad neighborhood. Or so we’ve been told. Mum is the word.

While inspecting the available stock, I spotted an elderly man nearby, ringing a bell. I suspect he may have been in on it as well. Personally, I doubt his snow white beard was even real. One can never be certain of such things. Still, the strangest was yet to come.

We settled on a fine tree, and the kindly attendant secured it to our truck with twine. As we pulled away from the unpaved parking area adjoining the tree lot, we were greeted by the most unusual sign. NO REFUNDS OR RETURNS. They must be on to us.

More later,
Fudge awaits.

The Infinite Echo

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