Self Scan Elf Can

Letter:  Chester Elf to Claus, Mr.

I bid you good day, Santa.  It’s been but too long since you've ventured south and in the world yourself.  It was good of you to send me ahead and I thank you greatly for the opportunity to thusly scout opportunities on your behalf.   It seems that I’m in bit of a quandary at the moment as I've discovered a wonderful new product, in name it is referenced as The Elf Can.  It is but too unique to describe in words and as such I shan't attempt it.  In my eagerness to try some new inventions I see about me, I have attempted to use and odd method of cashier called “Self Scan.”

The manner of its behaviour is not as expected as I placed the “Elf Can” upon it and nothing happened.  I’m not terribly certain to what the “Self” refers as the Elf Can doth not “self-scan.”  I see no eyes upon it, nor do they appear at the “Self Scan” device.  Further, there be no eyes upon the Self scan device and I fail to comprehend the purpose of a machine that would merely self-scan when it is the aid of a cashier for which I have need. 

It would seem that letters of credit are also no longer accepted, for I approached an oddly uniformed woman who explained that there are but three companies for whom they accept letters of credit in the form of little plastic (she called it plastic) pieces.  These companies are Master Card, Visa, and American Express.  As for the second, I was quite unaware that the border services were in issue of letters of credit, but indeed it has been a long time since my last travel southward.  Unfortunately, I seem to be at a loss for a proper means of communication and thusly I have attached this note via your faithful reindeer Dasher in the hope that it will reach you promptly and he not find a cool meadow of alfalfa upon which to graze an thus lose precious time.  I do wish there were a more convenient means of communication.  This brings me to another observation I've made of the children I've seen as of late in my travel here.

    Children in this time all seem to have little boxes they hold in their hands and obsess over ceaselessly.  It would seem as though they've given up conversation in lieu of something called, “texting.”  Here and there one will see these young people flitting away with their digits upon the box and responding as if the box doth talk back.  I asked one such youngster what it was doing and was promptly told, “texting” in a seeming air of contempt.  Upon further research, I found that there are several rules, even laws regarding this activity of “texting.”  Though it illegal to engage in this activity whilst in operation of their mechanical carriages (You've just GOT to see these contraptions), yet do they this even to their own peril.  I quite suggest refraining from the use of these little boxes as gifts until a child should gain the age of majority and perhaps additionally a spark of wisdom doth ignite in its youthful, hormone addled, mind. 

I fear I have digressed much, and I shall get quickly to the point.  I am presently in need of one of these special letters of credit – I think someone just called it a, “credit card.”  (helpful, albeit rude some of these people be.  I am stuck at this blasted contraption and they've no sympathy for my situation.  Some little tart did call out the letters, O-M-G, as if this were some manner of instruction.  Clearly, this be not the case as there were no such label or reference upon this infernal device.  I really can’t abide the distortion of the language – it seems all too foreign to me.)  At any rate, would you be so kind as to procure one of these “Credit Cards” for me so as I might finish my transaction here.  As much as the shopkeeper did assure me his establishment operates round the clock (Seems like a folly to do such a thing.  Doth he not sleep? Or perhaps he be more like the undead and sleep no longer a part of his bodily need be) so as I may complete my transaction before the natives grow more restless than presently.

Yours truly,

Chester Elf.

Chasing Daylight

   We’re  late.  Our flight is late.  Through a myriad of missteps and a comedy of errors, we’re now finally getting off the ground.  Of course, by this time we should have been comfortably on our way.  We should have been off the ground before twilight.

   And now the pilot has put the throttle down and we’re racing westward, onward to our destination.  The sun teases on the horizon as we race the coming shadow, chasing daylight.  There’s little one can do when blocked by competing traffic on the tarmac after an errant plane blocked departure from the gate.

   Damned double-parked DC 10!

For now, we’re behind schedule.  For now, we’re just making up for lost time, chasing the sun; chasing the last colors and hues of the day.  Like the drowning man reaching for a floating bit of foam, we’re just chasing daylight.

   And as the darkness settles in, Mac Arthur’s words ring and my ears, “Old soldiers don’t die, they just fade away.”

A Beautiful Heist - A Tale of Stolen Title

   Malice aforethought denotes a wanton and even planned act of villainy.  To engage in it is to be one of planning, knowing full well that boundaries are to be crossed and injury of some kind will be inflicted.  This doesn't necessarily mean that one inflicts said injury as the singular objective of one's activity, but rather that nothing is done in mitigation of its expected effect.

   When once an author of Belgian descent set out to write a story, inspired by the the corruption he saw in the financial institutions of America and the political systems that support those financial institutions, he naively thought that the title of his work, and that of others', was a part of their copyright.  His title, A Beautiful Heist, chronicled some of the corrupt ways a futuristic organized criminal might acquire a company for pennies on the dollar, and it's villain a mysterious and shadowy almost, if not certainly, supernatural man of timeless age, extravagant taste, and immeasurable power.  Could he be brought down by the judge of  a court?  Would he be made to account for his crimes and be exposed for his own selfish and wicked deeds?  

    Well, as it would be revealed some two and a half years post of the original, another author seemed to have taken a jealous eye to this man's Title and sought to take it as her own.  One might never know the answers to the above questions. as with the help of a publishing house, Kensington by name, this woman did publish her own more Harlequin style of fiction under the same A Beautiful Heist.

    This of course puzzled the man, as he had done a long day's search via multiple resources to ensure that he would not take the title of another author's work.  This would be a dishonorable and despicable thing to do.  It would show a complete lack of respect for the honor and effort of that other author.  But of course this is America after all and not everyone grows up under the auspices of an Honor Code.  From 8th grade to his graduation from Culver Military Academy, the man lived under the code, "I will not lie, cheat, or steal, and I shall discourage others from such actions."  It is the code of a gentleman, it is the code of any person who would claim honor of his or her own.  The code was, "Conceived by and for the cadet corps of Culver... with the intention of developing within the corps of cadets, a respect for one's personal honor."  That respect is an important thing to the man, and it would seem only as natural that he might expect the same in return.

    So, the man found himself in a place undesired.  Should he, one man, take on a publishing house in New York City who, it might be expected, should have an army of lawyers at the ready prepared, even licking their chops, to lawyer their way around the theft of another author's title?  Would he even have a chance against their Harvard-graduated minds, and experienced scheming?  Not to mention that they have the home "court" advantage being in New York City.

    With a bit of angst and a sense of irony from the nature of the title stolen, he has fired the opening salvo to what he hopes will be a quick and cordial resolution to the would-be scandal.

Stay tuned, as one can only WISH that this were fiction.

ORIGINAL
OFFENDING


To Be Continued...