The Rainbow Horizon - A Tale of Goofy Chaos

by Karen S. Cole

Why there’s a Jesus Christ--the fictional character—Daedalus Myth version (the old Man, the One and Only Savior, the Hebrew Name of…Seattle)

  O HAPPINESS, WHOSE heartless pain to which my soul is ever-turning. Somebody once said that there is no such thing as a patient explanation.

  I was shifttlessly leafing through miles and miles of piles de coleccions del historias I’d salvaged, most of which I'd saved from childhood days, some of which were maybe worth many Desdemona coleccionistas. Helter-skelter I came across an ancient Greek myth I could barely remember, but had scance forgotten in its substancia's. There's a whole important literary magazine named after it. “Daedalus.”

  It was in a fifty-year-old, dog-eared libro des moldy old stories I’d first read in junior high, when my World History class had briefly studied ancient Greece. There was a goodly amount of delving into the lituratura's, some of which stuck with me as well, as in may also have with you. The stories, translated into English, were very Latinate, and completamente Latin Great. I reread a bit. To wit:

  One early short Greek story, enclosed in the midst of scenes pertaining to the major Greco-Roman deity Poseidon (Neptune), one of the Trinity of top Divinities, also called Triton, concerned the exploits of a noted "Greek" teacher and former Roman senator named Daedalus. “Us” was a common name-ending in ancient Greece.

  It seems that Daedalus was standing on a beach (as in On the Beach), and was arguing with a Roman general of an army from some city or another about something to do with troop movements, when, according to an earlier part of the story, Poseidon (Roman god as well as Greek) magically appeared in the waters off the beach. This was due to Daedalus’ breaking a promise he'd made to the deity concerning his not telling the general about certain information he wasn't supposed to give out to him. Mostly hanging around there listening, that angered Poseidon, Neptune for short, overheard Daedalus tell the general what he wasn't s’posed to, and, taking the form of a giant sea serpent, the God scooped the teacher up from his position in his massive, dripping, gruesome jaws and ate him, CRUNCH, in true MGM dinosaurian people-eating Style. Godzilla, they say, owes loads to his story. Daedalus on the other hand is recorded as having screamed a lot.

  This is one of the few Greek myths to relate the tale of a single person choosing, on his own alone and unassisted, to stand up to one of the three major Greek deities of those times. Daedalus, says the myths, chose to do what he thought of as the Right Thing and paid no Heed to Poseidon's warnings that trouble would come and his death would result if he was so reckless as to act on his own, disobeying the See God. Well, he just went ahead and did and got himself killed for his efforts!

  Daedalus was an old man, after all, and part of his decision was that he was already physically unwell, therefore not having a whole lot to lose. He also was not the most populous sort of ex-senator, being kind of blasé and ordinary; his acquaintances roundly encouraged him against this presumptuous act of defiance because they thought it would be selfish of him. Ancient Greeks considered such an attitude as Daedalus chose to exhibit to be morbid and suicidal, not at all the admirable thing to do. But he was a respected ex-senator and a well-known and beloved teacher, and so felt capable of acting at his own behest.

  Back then such teachers were often called “sophists,” which is why you became "sophisticated" by being taught your lessons. IF they were yours! Only male people, and freeborn Greek and Roman (maybe a few other places) citizens were allowed such sophistication at that time, that is, school attendance. Ever ‘body else hadda suffer.

  Defying the gods was not a happy pastime in these ancient south-western European cuentos. It usually resulted in muerto or Worse, such as Animal Transmogrification, severe loss of personal power, or loneliest utter banishment excile. Daedalus is in fact one of the truly rare cases of a nearly instantaneous Demise.

  Other similar cases of Greek tragedy resulting from brave gods defiance include: being turned into a deer and getting eaten alive by dogs, being turned into pigs and slaughtered, having to wear a skin-eating shirt and getting burned up alive by fire, and of course the one where you’re still being given very lengthy prayers and Latin to chant, some lasting All Day. You're not, are you?

  Anyway. I dreamily recalled the jovenes in weird old escuela, when I’d spaced out some and while reading this cuento slowly realized it was one of the probable origins of the Christ fabula. I didn't care much for Daedulus or his futile act of empty bravado, for at the time it seemed to play a larger uncaring, faceless muchedumbre. However, I caught myself slipping over, for half-a second, into feeling a case of Poseidon worship, or defiance, an either direction sort of thing, as though I were submitting to or fighting with the watery deity instead of enjoying or memorizing the story for school. Perhaps I was dreaming of the birth of, ah Venus. Poseidon "took" a like all over 80 nymph in a similar manner to the way he "took" Daedulus; that act generated Aphrodite, who is, in Latin, Venus, and the Love Goddess.

  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

  It came to me this all had an awful lot to do with the same internal, ongoing, and overtly unhealthy orientation of the alcoholic thirst building secret momentum down deep in my dry throat. I was disconsolately dreaming of believing in bravely withstanding such unmitigated Coercion. It felt like I "gotta go out ‘n hava coupla beers,” as ol’ Artie would put it; if I leafed through a few more magazines instead, that’d put me down for the night just as santo y muy bueon.

  No, I gotta have it. Time to swim on down to the Krakatoa for to bibulously imbibe. Blort. Bloooop.

  Can you tell me which letter of the alphabet WON’T appear in the Tale below? I’ll give a hint: it’s NOT the usual letter “e” or any other ones whatsoever.

  HOW TO GIVE AWAY the peanut—a problem that plagued the Elven realm forever…well, for a Long Time. It will be hard to accept the peanut. Not important enough when believed in, and there are mice attached to not relating to it.

  Rejecting the peanut commonly worked; however, another whole Way of Life can be redeveloped for the Faire folk who are involved. The appearance of Dwarf folk enable the peanut-rejector to get by without a weapon, but it will become a knotty problem for their Tribe. Eventually.

  The Elven magically influence the available people--nearly all feel their eerie Power. The importance of clothing the body and acting in a manner peculiar to the Elven became picked up on and an attempted imitation of Elfdom followed. It led to feeling part of the "in" crowd. Once again the Fairie Tribe crowd could tell they had been taken from the Elven. It hurt! The Elven had a reputation for thievery, but it made them be taken from, by and large. That gave the Fairie Tribe a kind of Revenge.

  Elven imitation will ever be done in order to get involved with what will inevitably never be out of Fairie, alone. To handle that imitation, the Fairie make like and Admirer, but truly, that became totally unreal long ago. It would never be true that it can be in order for fair weather to be both permanent and changeable, the attempt to replace the Elven with Fairie. There will not be the ongoing attempt to replace the Dryadae, not for long! They appear to be weak but aren’t, and though appearing expendable are badly needed. The Elven appear weak like the Dryad folk, but not very. Too much were not enough. How will the peanut ever even begin to Fit In?

  Fairie are really Elven yet, and not yet, but the rule that got rid of the Body of Elven countree except for certain procedural coding cannot be ended. That will not be done in order to keep a form of complex propriety going….it will be difficult to fathom, later. It may well have to do with the fairitization of the Entire Kingdom, which it may have cannibalized. Altogether the Elven will not be completely Fairie.

  It will have been done the One Time Alone, and never again, except for the very next Friday.

  And--how to take on the Word. Peanut. It were a problem. There can be an over-emphatic manner to it: the other Elven are not yet participating in the game in quite the identical way. Indeed, including them in the Peanut Ceremony would change the manner of carrying on
and partying that mainly charted the road for the privately-mentioned Elven. Indeed, it would change the entirety of the Peanut Ceremony. No more partying forever. No more unreality Game without meaning could take place.

  New torture device-idea-mice could be executed; the Elven/Fairie/Dwarf civilization would unmantle it then; if fun did that it would improve. A Good Thing? If the Elven world war no fuller to including the peanut (indeed they have plenty of trouble with the djinn and the genae…The Fairie Tribe, being imitative ever, would follow it when told.

  But the argument involved meant a need for Power over and above and in reality.

  The only way to Obtain it--and to leave Fairyland for good--would be to have Power in the real, living World. Whither THAT, for nay folk (oh, what you will!), and becoming real time and again… when reality may have no Elf, it may be time to Be. Until there be no Elf, there will be…peanuts.

  In this paper I will discuss the effects of alcohol during pregnancy:

  Fetal alcohol syndrome (FAS) describes the effect of alcohol on the fetus. It is a preventable disorder and the overwhelming pain and guilt faced by the prospective mother can be eliminated from the beginning if she does not consume alcohol during her entire pregnancy.

  In spite of the known effects on the developing embryo, our society, sadly, socially accepts and tolerates the drug substance known as alcohol.

  Is our social tolerance to blame, or is it our own neglect of personal responsibility? Could it be that child neglect doesn't begin after birth, but rather starts from the very beginning of pregnancy?

  Everyone should know by now that drinking alcohol during pregnancy can create serious problems, causing physical and mental disabilities in the newborn child. More than 40,000 babies are born in the U.S. each year with fetal alcohol-related defects.

  If a mother-to-be consumes one or two drinks a day during the first two months of pregnancy, she will probably have a baby would slow reaction time and difficulty paying attention. Once the damages are done the effects are long term and won't go away.

  The real damage is devastating and in most cases the malformation can be very traumatic for both parents to experience. Effects are: stunted growth, microcephalus, poor eyesight, learning disabilities and hyperactivity.

  There is a real message. Fetal alcohol injury shows a very specific recognizable pattern of malformation in all aspects of human development, because alcohol can virtually attack any of the body cells. Fetal alcohol syndrome is not just a childhood disorder, but also it is a long term progression of the disorder into adulthood. It poses a greater challenge to families and is harder for them to manage.

  Studies conducted at the Child Development Mental Retardation Center and the Alcoholism Dog Abuse Institute of the University of Washington Medical School, Seattle, conclude:

  “Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is recognized as the leading known effect of mental retardation in the U.S., surpassing Downe’s Syndrome and spina bifada." Journal of the American Medical Association, April 17, 1991. Also, "Alcohol is a teratogenic drug capable of producing life-long disabilities after uterine exposure." JAMA, Ibid.

  “Fetal injury associated and maternal ethanol ingestion is a major effect of congenital anomalies and disabilities in the newborn.” Science Journal, Oct. 14, 1988, p. 273.

  The U.S. Surgeon General cites this advice: “The Surgeon General advises women who are pregnant (or considering pregnancy) not to drink alcoholic beverages and to be aware of the alcohol content of food and drugs." FDA Bulletin, July, 1981. This was mailed to over one million physicians and health care professionals in the United States. “Just So It’s Healthy,” Lucy Barry Rake, 1982, p. 43.

  At this point in time, we are witnessing on TV commercials a depiction of alcohol usage that provides beer, as a product, commercial support for casual attitudes among the general population towards its consumption. Also, our healthcare professionals, physicians, and other related professions must escape this trap first so that they can lead their patients to more realistic understanding of the substance and its effect.

  At present time, there is no known treatment for FAS, and so health officials can only send their messages that FAS is highly preventable through education.

  Many physicians who were trained years ago and have not kept up with research are still telling their patients that it's all right to have a drink or two each night. In November of 1989, a federal law was passed requiring all alcoholic beverages to carry warnings about birth defects and other hazards of drinking. But still too many prospective parents are not getting the message.

  If a woman, even when alcoholic, stops drinking before she tries to become pregnant, her fetus will not develop FAS or any alcohol-related defects.

  But pregnancies are not always planned. So if a woman doesn't realize for several weeks that she is pregnant, she might not stop drinking in time to prevent permanent harm to the fetus.

  Good quality prenatal care (including screening for alcohol use) throughout pregnancy is also an important factor in preventing FAS, and if treatment is needed, it can be started immediately. Progress can be monitored by the attending physician throughout the prenatal period.

  “The AMA has issued a scientific report and developed public education brochures clearly supporting the position that all women who are or who plan to become pregnant should be counseled and assisted in abstaining from any use of beverage alcohol.” JAMA, Oct. 21, 1988, “Alcohol Abuse Patients." Bowen and Sammons.

  It is possible that many intelligent mothers will respond to this compelling message, but it is still up to physicians to go ahead and tell prospective mothers to abstain from alcoholic beverages. It is important information, which patients and professionals need to ensure healthy pregnancies.

  --Writer Reggie P., Edited by Ghost Writer, Inc.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Journal of the American Medical Association, April 17, 1990

  Science Journal, Oct. 14, 1988, p. 273

  FDA Bulletin, July, 1981

  “Just So It’s Healthy,” Lucy Barry Rake, 1982, p. 43

  JAMA, Oct. 21, 1988, “Alcohol Abuse Patients,” Bowen and Sammons

  PATIENCE…

  …if you should wait…but one more hour…

  How I greet you softly,

  After all these years;

  I could…spare…the tears…tomorrow,

  So softly…

  As I greet you there…

  As I greet you there…

  As I…greet…you…there.

  “Softly”—again, by an Unknown Songster

  Gabe Pens a Murder Mystery, Featuring the Alluring Amateuse Sybil Smythe:

  HANG-MAN or The Sign Points Left, a One-Bedroom Story Done In the Manner (my house hath many) of Ellery Queen | Agatha Christie, God’s authors.

  SHE PULLED a piece of typing paper out of the manuscript pile she was currently working on, and carefully went over her hastily penciled notes.

  “At first I thought the new little sign in the garden read ‘O space space O space.’ Then, I timidly ventured down into the garden to get a closer look at the distant, unfamiliar, obscure, and threatening sign. It was newly, peculiarly there…

  “A few days ago, a young man committed suicide, or so the authorities and the newspapers claimed. He apparently jumped off the freeway overpass a few blocks from our apartment building. I and my husband, Walter, passed by there in our car and saw the tiny crowd gathered at the railing. They were all young, dressed as gay partiers out for a night of fun. We lived mid-city, near an area famed for attracting variable wildlife. But suicide was something new. This group looked worried, nervously peering down at the traffic below. No view of the body was possible from our angle; nothing could be seen. For all we knew, nothing had really happened.

  “About a week later, we passed by the same area, about 30 feet or so east, further up the bridge overpass. We saw the police covering over the possibly still-living body of a young Black man. He may have been shot, and a newer group of
"admirers," including police, was hovering around near the bus stop. We cruised by just as they began covering him over, which was quite a coincidence. To say the least!

  “Back at our apartment building, I suddenly noticed a peculiar new object in our apartment’s surrounding garden. I felt as though it had been there for a while, but I had not noticed it consciously.

  “One of the tenants here, Rod something, don't know his last name, works in the garden sometimes for the manager, whose name is John. He gets a little money for this. I also work around here, cleaning the laundry room for $100 a month. Every little bit helps…

  “The funny new thing I saw in the garden, sighting down from the seventh floor, was a half-t scaffold. It was a style they used in the past to hang a single person, both in reality and effigy. From upstairs it looked to be about a foot tall from that distance. It was made of rough wood, using a natural tree branch as the main post, and it mostly resembled a game we used to play as children, on paper, called “Hangman’s Noose” or HANGMAN.

  “In the game, one player draws the scaffold, very simply in stick figures, and put spaces for each letter of a word underneath the sign. It can also be a whole phrase. Then the other players guess letters in the word, or phrase. Each time a player is wrong, a body part is drawn, starting with the head, of the figure supposedly hanging from the scaffold. If a player correctly guesses the word before the figure is completed, the player has won. If not, the figure is "hung" and that player has lost the game.

  “I hesitatingly went down to the garden via the west stairwell. The door opens outside and is the only entrance to the large green outdoor area where the new sign was placed. Rod was known to mostly work in the other, larger green strip on the building’s opposite side. But he'd said once before that he done some things down here, I recalled, as I walked up a series of stone steps within the garden. They brought me up to a higher level where there was a black garden lantern, and the sign.

  “It was rather artistic; I hadn't seen the pretty colors from above. The scaffold’s arm pointed from the right to the left. Something seemed to be odd about that. In the kids’ game Hangman, the arm of the scaffold usually points the other way. From above, the lettering had appeared spaced in this manner, reading left to right: O dash dash O dash.

  “Suspended from the foot-high art sculpture, for that's what it was, were two round, flat, dull, grey-painted metal pieces, approximately four inches in diameter. There were faces cut into them. Two eyes and a nose, apiece. Each face was different, with three openings made in a cookie-cutter shape. I recognized a star, a diamond; and other such designs. In all there were six openings, three on each piece.

  “There were only two of these pieces, or circles, from which I had derived, from my viewpoint above, the ‘O’s of the supposed word. I had certainly interpreted them as symbolic of the letter O, and also as symbolic for each of the men who had died recently, due to the obvious faces cut into them. There also was space for three

  ‘ANG-MAN more such circles, in line with the other two, as there were three wooden posts projecting downwards from the scaffold’s arm. There were five such posts and all.

  “Reading it the supposedly correct way, which was difficult as it would have to be backwards, right to left, the sign read, ‘space O space space O.’ I didn't know what to make of that. I thought to myself: if it's a game of Hangman, it's primarily missing the other players, who are supposed to guess or tell me if I'm right in my guesses. Without them, there’s no way to play the game. So it appeared to me to be an odd bluff. How can I tell, if there’s no way, what the game's word is? Is it a person's name? What does the word mean? Do the three empty spaces presage three more nearby demises? How would the sign maker know that they did, unless he or she were the murderer?

  “I began to think in terms of solving the puzzle. I snuck back upstairs, half-heartedly hoping I hadn’t been seen. In our apartment, I sat down with pencil and paper. I wrote, if the sign post should point from right to left, instead of from left to right, the sign reads ‘O space space O space’ as I originally thought. If not, the word should be transposed. I attempted to fill in the word, going in either direction."

  She wrote down every candidate that came to mind. Out of the possibilities she could invent, she decided that “Orion,” “Romeo,” “pollo” (Spanish for ‘chicken’), and “Jocko” were the likeliest to have some special meaning. Then again, there was the local, Washington state phenomenon known as the “Lotto,” where every few months ticket-holders got a crack at a few million dollars in the state lottery.

  “There’s no way to confirm what the real answer is, I figure. Also, it could work to switch an “a” for one or two of the “o”s, or other vowels could be substituted, although that might be construable as cheating. But I don't even know that the gray smiley faces are “o”s. Anyway, given that case the word would be "Oprah," after the famous talk-show host. Or it could be "Harpo," the other way around.

  “Come to think, perhaps the spacing refers to the locations of the deaths, not to the letter “o.” If so, there is a threat of two more deaths on the overpass bridge between the first two locations. And a third new death, on the street corner beyond the bus stop. There is certainly room there, for on the corner is a giant artwork of four Greek colonnades.

  “Should I report this to the police?” she asked herself.

  SOLUTION TO HANGMAN

  She didn't call the police. After poking around mentally some more, she came up with a strong lead towards solution of the mystery mini-artwork.

  “Near the street corner beyond the bus stop stand four tall, wide pillars, light grey-colored and Romanesque: I forget what the three major styles of those columns are called…doric is one, Ionic is another, I believe. Each column is like the others, and they stand at least twenty-five feet tall. They’re about four feet in diameter, and located about a half mile east of downtown Seattle, situated diagonally to the arterial running past. They’re in a line maybe twenty-five feet wide, set far back on a green area with two park benches directly in front of them. They quietly and hugely loom over the landscape, vast and mysterious. There’s no earthly reason I can see, after looking them over, for their existence. It's quite eery.

  “The columns clearly made an impression on Rod’s (or someone’s) mind. He's very artistic and has arranged and kept the gardens here almost entirely by himself. The large one is in a curious and unique triangular pattern. He's constantly maintaining it. I see him working there a lot, out of my window.

  “The deaths may have inspired what could be Rod’s piece of artwork. It's no threat, perhaps. The empty spaces (there’s a theater in town called The Empty Space), although there are apparently three of them, actually merely represent the four Greek columns. They're hard to miss, but blend into the background after you’ve driven past several times. I figured it out after I realized there was a secret fourth bar leading down from the signpost arm, to the far left. It's much shorter than the others. Rod made it very inconspicuous. Rod, by the way, is rather short.

  “If I kept trying to make a word out of the signpost, or scaffold, it would now have to include that first, difficult-to-see bar. Then it would read, from left to right or right to left, either one, ‘space O space space O space.’

  “This is symmetric, and implies the four columns as the inspiration, combined with the two recent deaths, which inspired the artwork in the garden. Perhaps WWII’s concept of a Nazi “fifth column” also is involved. But one thing puzzles me…when exactly did whoever-it-was make the two round, grey metal pieces with the cut-out smiles? I don't recall exactly when the sculpture first appeared downstairs, but it must have been nearly simultaneous to the overpass deaths.

  “Dear, dear. I can't remember what happened first, or how far it was spaced apart.” Well, who can? NOBODY solves these fictional murder mysteries!

  Editor’s Note: Perhaps the word solution is HOLLOW. “Should I call the police? That’s hollow, because they might arrest m
e, and not the crooks.” Other solutions: Moscow, wallet, willow, morrow, cannon, GORDON, JORDON, follow…