When Shall We Three Meet Again?
When the hurley burley’s done, When the Battle’s lost and won—MacBeth, Act 1, Scene 1
Three women walk into a bakery and ask for a two-tiered wedding cake. The owner pulls out a catalogue of designs, and they select one and ask for icing designs of a pentagram. When the owner asks about a wedding topping, they ask for three witches standing in a circle. “Well we don’t carry those. Sorry.” One of the women quickly opens a notepad and makes a note and upon leaving says, “You’d better have some when we return.”
Next these three women walk into a card shop, and ask the clerk to direct them to where they keep the cards on Satan. The clerk replies “We don’t have such as section” and one of the women quickly jots down another note. “But you have one for other religions don’t you?” So upon leaving one tells the clerk that by the time they come back, they’d better have a Satanism card section, as well.
Then the Three women walk into a caterer’s storefront and asks if they can deliver a boiling cauldron of frogs, tadpoles, salamanders, with sliced potatoes, carrots, celery, bat whiskers, toenails, black cat fat, sweat, teeth, and broom sweepings to a spot in a dale just outside town, where the fairy rings are known to grow. That didn’t take long either.
Finally the three women walk into a photographer’s shop and ask if he can come to that same fairy ring outside of town on Saturday and photograph a Craft initiation ceremony. “Oh, Masons?” “No, Wiccans”. “See you in court”, one says, departing
You might ask, how did these three hags know where to go? Found on the door of two was
And on another door,
And on another
After the dust settles in Indiana, and Gov Mike Pence and the legislature have finalized a tiny retreat, but leaving the substance of religious freedom intact, the Left and their caterwauling machine will be allowed to claim just that, a pyrrhic victory in style, proving that yes, the squeaky wheel still gets greased. But the Left, the Democrats and the radical gay agenda will have gained nothing more. Just another fundraising event for an election where, much like 2014, money may not play that big a role. (e.g., the annual revenues of Saudi Arabia could not make Hillary Clinton appear winsome…or honest…or smart….I could go on, you know.) Not one extra Democrat vote will they have acquired in Indiana, nor one vote will the GOP have lost. The infamous political rag, the Indianapolis Star, will not gain a single new subscriber, in fact, it will continue to sink beneath the waves of red ink, until or unless someone in their inner circle can find a way for 40% of their constituent base, for whom all their political endeavors are directed, can be taught to read. The rest of their constituent are in government, and more than half of that is in the GOP camp. So, things ain’t looking up for the Star.
But the rest of Indiana will rejoice, especially private small business, even without secret symbols on their doors, for they will no longer have the Sword of Extortion hovering their head that some day the Three Witches might come onto their property and demand services celebrating their friendly associations with Satan. Tough bat toenails. Mom and Pop family motels will still be able to just say No to college kids who can’t provide a drivers license or proof of marriage for that drunk little co-ed tagging along behind. The old rules will still apply. No tickee, no laundry. And No shoes, No shirt, No service will still also apply to the open zipper. Oh sure they can still sue, but now good people can sue back, and will win because this laws says they can.
What we have also learned is the true nature of modern fascism (sorry, “crony capitalism” doesn’t work for me), and as Walmart in Arkansas is proving today, and the von Schachts, Krupps and Speers proved in the 1940s, whose grandfathers would have never even shook hands with that little Austrian corporal, it takes at least two generations for corporate leaders to forget the shoulders they are standing on. After the founder is dead, and his boardroom memory forgotten, and as “Grandpa” passes onto “Great Grandpa…who left me all this money”, they all fall into the fascist sausage grinder to emerge as the Nietzschian super Corporate Man, modern authoritarianism’s prime sponsors.
God bless the Mom and Pop Anti-Satan League, and keep it safe.
Publications: Famous Common People I Have Known and Other Essays
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