These days when I open the curtains of my bedroom in the morning, the first thing I notice is the bare plum tree with a greyish sky as backdrop. That is, of course, after I start remembering that I have toes, which somewhere during the night, seemed to have disappeared from my reality of self, while Pedro and Gigi snuggled so tightly against me that I imaged floating in the empty space next to my bed. My wife, the good, old soul, is no problem I must say, she is well behaved and mostly keeps to herself when there is a biting chill in the air. Every now and then she needs to touch me with her hands or feet to show off the fact that her circulation is somewhat poorer than mine. Fortunately, we are no tarantulas, otherwise I would have been eaten by now.
Anybody reading the above might think that I'm penning this from that little, lower-than-sea-level country-and-soon-to-disappear-under-the-water-if-global-warming-continues, Holland. No, my awareness is currently in sunny South Africa, - can you imagine? One travels 6000kms over land and sea (my family couldn't make up their mind so we did it a few times) to reach the sunny paradise of crime, and to discover that the archetypes Patrick (with wify), Don, Klynsmiths, Carole and a few other characters with stubbles of take-from-others-what-you-want without-a-blush enriching their lower chins. Hey presto, we have perfection. But we have no contradiction in terms here: every paradise has its slimy slitherers, lurkers, sneakers and snurkers. They hide in the thickets watching for an opportunity to strike at the heels of those who attempt to walk upright in life.
Let us keep in mind though, that these low-living entities have a peculiar view of that what lies above; their perspective is completely wonky, and with the little bit of insights into life given to them by the Universe, they have little option to have but a myopic outlook concerning the well being of other beings on the planet. (Nee, ek praat nou nie Hollands nie, maar geheel en al mondlangs).
After I established the archetypes of the famous group of ingredients that make up the Edwafin pie, they all reacted as I expected them to do according to their archetype. Patrick tried to bully and cajole with various threats, lies and other ill-considered pseudo truths. Don sneakered his way around the scene, as slippery as a melting jelly tot, stuttering echos of his leader's patheticisms. Klynsmith took on the guise of a holy spirit (not to be confused with the Christian concept - please!) - you know it is there but is nowhere to be found or heard. His name only lurks on various legal documents, while he busies himself on his knees in heavenly ecstasy. Let's face it, that is his alternate profession.
No, I haven't forgotten about another one and I'll come to that in a moment - remember eternity is a loooong time, and we'll all be around in the end (another paradox that makes absolute sense: if we regard the Newtonian world as a subset of a greater reality, then the end according to Newton would imply entry into a greater reality where the concept of never ending is a reality and not just an incomprehensible idea. But, having said that, the concept of never-ending in itself implies that there is something like an ending, and in terms of eternity that absolutely makes no sense [hee hee, got ya] ).
Where were we? Oh yes, we have another member of the group. Where the other protagonists have gone into relative silence, there is one that came out fighting, determined to convince everybody that she didn't do what she had done (paradox no 2), and that she was in a blissful swoon while Edwafin collapsed into a messy heap, like a vanilla ice cream that fell to the sandy floor on a hot summers day. (Incidentally, the other Edwafin folks stopped following the blog, and I have had to remove their email addresses from the blog list as their emails were no longer operational.) This good-natured, all-is-fair-in-love-and-war lady, makes an all out effort to get us to believe that she was totally unaware of the disdain towards the investors, and other management catastrophes at Edwafin. Then in the next paragraph she goes forth and tells us about the iniquities that took place at Edwafin (this is paradox no 3, but while we are into paradoxes, no matter). She also denies in her own words: "CG never ran Edwabond, get that straight please. ", but I have en email direct from her which states Carole Gardiner, CEO, Edwabond (paradox no 4).
<====== Carole Gardiner
Her slithering trick is to play footsy footsy with the investors, ignoring their tremendous heartsore, and losses, whilst concentrating on the losses incurred by herself and those close to her and, of course extricating herself from the web of deceit that the Edwafians have spun for themselves.
Carole is loved all over Cape Town, that little town with flatties and peaks. Unfortunately these good capies were so busy adoring their heap of soil, that nobody took the trouble to comment on the blog on how good a person she is.
Under the guise of wanting to cooperate, she promises much but lashes out at anybody who shows the slightest distrust in her sincerity. She bawls, shouts and screams, at the unfair treatment meted out to her by the same investors she made financially somewhat airier.
Carole has a sidekick, with little experience as a soul or as a human being, and who only seems to be able to communicate in two single syllabled words ("yeah, right", I"'m confused," etc.) Carole even has this side kick believe that investors run companies and not the directors. Of course, directors are merely soulistic place holders to earn high salaries, and therefore have no responsibility whatsoever. Of course, the investors regularly come together to decide on matters concerning the running of the company - uh! ar u loosing ur marbles?
Carole wanted to join a class action suit, and promises more insightful gems. What was that? Oh, of course a promise and a reality are not synonyms you say. This is called the art of deceitful prior intentions: an intention is a mental readiness to do something, except that a prior intention overrides all following intentions, making what follows null and void. iff p ->q, q<>real.
So we learn nothing.
Carole then joins forces with the liquidators and makes it seem that they have now joined in a unified force acting against investors. Slitherers, slitherers, slitherers.
Carole's venomous disdain for the investors gradually makes this blog unpleasant by means of anonymous and semi-identified comments, and the bossman then decides to not comment any further on her profoundly nonsensical outbursts (paradox umpteenth), and asks other anonimi to follow his example.
Carole then informs the bossman that she will no longer comment to the blog anymore. Of course everybody notices nothing except that the atmosphere has lifted by universal degrees.
Carole lets out a few short trailing splutters, as does her sidekick. These did not get published - once you have polished your shoes, and they are shiny and bright, it is foolhardy to talk a walk through a mud pool.
Of course, like all of us, Carole is also a member of the human, and she has taken on the unenviable task of being a culprit in this lifetime. Therefore, although responsible for her own actions and words, she is also not in terms of the Universe but we collectively are (paradox ... where were we now again?)
Anybody reading the above might think that I'm penning this from that little, lower-than-sea-level country-and-soon-to-disappear-under-the-water-if-global-warming-continues, Holland. No, my awareness is currently in sunny South Africa, - can you imagine? One travels 6000kms over land and sea (my family couldn't make up their mind so we did it a few times) to reach the sunny paradise of crime, and to discover that the archetypes Patrick (with wify), Don, Klynsmiths, Carole and a few other characters with stubbles of take-from-others-what-you-want without-a-blush enriching their lower chins. Hey presto, we have perfection. But we have no contradiction in terms here: every paradise has its slimy slitherers, lurkers, sneakers and snurkers. They hide in the thickets watching for an opportunity to strike at the heels of those who attempt to walk upright in life.
Let us keep in mind though, that these low-living entities have a peculiar view of that what lies above; their perspective is completely wonky, and with the little bit of insights into life given to them by the Universe, they have little option to have but a myopic outlook concerning the well being of other beings on the planet. (Nee, ek praat nou nie Hollands nie, maar geheel en al mondlangs).
After I established the archetypes of the famous group of ingredients that make up the Edwafin pie, they all reacted as I expected them to do according to their archetype. Patrick tried to bully and cajole with various threats, lies and other ill-considered pseudo truths. Don sneakered his way around the scene, as slippery as a melting jelly tot, stuttering echos of his leader's patheticisms. Klynsmith took on the guise of a holy spirit (not to be confused with the Christian concept - please!) - you know it is there but is nowhere to be found or heard. His name only lurks on various legal documents, while he busies himself on his knees in heavenly ecstasy. Let's face it, that is his alternate profession.
No, I haven't forgotten about another one and I'll come to that in a moment - remember eternity is a loooong time, and we'll all be around in the end (another paradox that makes absolute sense: if we regard the Newtonian world as a subset of a greater reality, then the end according to Newton would imply entry into a greater reality where the concept of never ending is a reality and not just an incomprehensible idea. But, having said that, the concept of never-ending in itself implies that there is something like an ending, and in terms of eternity that absolutely makes no sense [hee hee, got ya] ).
Where were we? Oh yes, we have another member of the group. Where the other protagonists have gone into relative silence, there is one that came out fighting, determined to convince everybody that she didn't do what she had done (paradox no 2), and that she was in a blissful swoon while Edwafin collapsed into a messy heap, like a vanilla ice cream that fell to the sandy floor on a hot summers day. (Incidentally, the other Edwafin folks stopped following the blog, and I have had to remove their email addresses from the blog list as their emails were no longer operational.) This good-natured, all-is-fair-in-love-and-war lady, makes an all out effort to get us to believe that she was totally unaware of the disdain towards the investors, and other management catastrophes at Edwafin. Then in the next paragraph she goes forth and tells us about the iniquities that took place at Edwafin (this is paradox no 3, but while we are into paradoxes, no matter). She also denies in her own words: "CG never ran Edwabond, get that straight please. ", but I have en email direct from her which states Carole Gardiner, CEO, Edwabond (paradox no 4).
<====== Carole Gardiner
Her slithering trick is to play footsy footsy with the investors, ignoring their tremendous heartsore, and losses, whilst concentrating on the losses incurred by herself and those close to her and, of course extricating herself from the web of deceit that the Edwafians have spun for themselves.
Carole is loved all over Cape Town, that little town with flatties and peaks. Unfortunately these good capies were so busy adoring their heap of soil, that nobody took the trouble to comment on the blog on how good a person she is.
Under the guise of wanting to cooperate, she promises much but lashes out at anybody who shows the slightest distrust in her sincerity. She bawls, shouts and screams, at the unfair treatment meted out to her by the same investors she made financially somewhat airier.
Carole has a sidekick, with little experience as a soul or as a human being, and who only seems to be able to communicate in two single syllabled words ("yeah, right", I"'m confused," etc.) Carole even has this side kick believe that investors run companies and not the directors. Of course, directors are merely soulistic place holders to earn high salaries, and therefore have no responsibility whatsoever. Of course, the investors regularly come together to decide on matters concerning the running of the company - uh! ar u loosing ur marbles?
Carole wanted to join a class action suit, and promises more insightful gems. What was that? Oh, of course a promise and a reality are not synonyms you say. This is called the art of deceitful prior intentions: an intention is a mental readiness to do something, except that a prior intention overrides all following intentions, making what follows null and void. iff p ->q, q<>real.
So we learn nothing.
Carole then joins forces with the liquidators and makes it seem that they have now joined in a unified force acting against investors. Slitherers, slitherers, slitherers.
Carole's venomous disdain for the investors gradually makes this blog unpleasant by means of anonymous and semi-identified comments, and the bossman then decides to not comment any further on her profoundly nonsensical outbursts (paradox umpteenth), and asks other anonimi to follow his example.
Carole then informs the bossman that she will no longer comment to the blog anymore. Of course everybody notices nothing except that the atmosphere has lifted by universal degrees.
Carole lets out a few short trailing splutters, as does her sidekick. These did not get published - once you have polished your shoes, and they are shiny and bright, it is foolhardy to talk a walk through a mud pool.
Of course, like all of us, Carole is also a member of the human, and she has taken on the unenviable task of being a culprit in this lifetime. Therefore, although responsible for her own actions and words, she is also not in terms of the Universe but we collectively are (paradox ... where were we now again?)
We understand.
PS. All typos and spelling errors corrected under duress from my wife
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