EthicalDative

(Continued from https://ethicaldative.com/2021/08/08/the-mamasutras-and-the-rhipidistians/)

In the protracted era of the squabbles, the mamasutras kept handing the rhipidistians their sandwiches wrapped in a map.

When the usual cycles of torture and maiming petered out, leaving the pulped factions scratching their heads, they stooped to collusion for want of ideas. A powwow held in a toney spa known as Mar-a-Gogo produced the “Better Monday Agreement.”

The historic compromise put paid to the chronic spats. It gave the rhips perennial dibs on the executive office of the precedency. A posse comprised of mamasutras would pass for a law-making body. 

Cat out of the bag? Irrational exuberance in high-net-worth circles! The bicameral finagle caused assets to migrate into secret DuchyBank accounts like swallows to Capistrano. Until it didn’t. Eventually, something happened.

(c) 2021 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved

(Continued from https://ethicaldative.com/2021/08/06/let-there-be-light-and-light-bed/)

Over time the foothold of Huff Pugh Fuchs LLC diversified into Isthmia, a bustling conglomerate on the scoured plain of a tick of viable surface near whichever pole. The heirs and assigns of the founding fathers, Chuck, Hugh and Wally, were the grand cru of Isthmian society, people of the better sort — you know who they are: the equaler-than-thou, the crème de la crème, the mandarin cooligarchy. 

Two factions in mandarin ranks, the feculent mamasutras and the crapulent rhipidistians, vied indolently for the boulevardian cuts of wealth. The rhips tried to warlord it for a while, and it wasn’t pretty. 

(c) 2021 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved

Continued from https://ethicaldative.com/2021/08/04/get-on-now-this-is-plumb-going-somewhere/)

Cut to when now was then. The populations of Indo-Eurasia and continental Texas were gone — the hepafungus and the weather wiped ‘em out.

A beleaguered clique of hedge fund managers drifted for months on soiled yachts. At length Chuck Huff, Hugh Pugh and Wally Fuchs ditched their sinking vessels, waded ashore on some godforsaken spit, stuck a pennant in the mud, and declared themselves a legal person.

It was a stained glass moment in neo-evolution.

(c) 2021 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved

(Continued from https://ethicaldative.com/2021/08/02/hypothetical-reader-mon-semblable-mon-frere/)

Huckster gonna huck and Nick be a-huckin’. What’s for sale exactly? Let’s do a level set. Rule of thumb: everything is putative. Here’s how it works:

Compare figmentarianism to a courtroom trial. So-called fact is beside the so-called point. Each party perpetrates its own narrative around some “event” alleged to have “occurred” outside the scream radius of the contenders. A judge gavels it, the lawyers take, justice is the figment, and Bob’s your uncle.

(c) 2021 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved

(Continued from https://ethicaldative.com/2021/06/15/deluged-so-few-nor-dampened-so-many/)

Is Nick Mansfield a crank who thinks figments, like faith, should be shielded from the fact police? Is Nick a procedure stuck in a loop with no exit condition? Are you and I, much less he, legal persons even?

Does this gallimaufry reek of fin-de siècle spilt seed? Does it smack of bottled-up thunder stolen by a deluge of dystopian fable? Of rage at the encroaching hood ornament of time’s wingèd Cadillac? Of dysmorphic topiary ripped from a Bruce Sterling fever dream? Of a horse-cart precedence conundrum dragging high center?

Never mind all that. ‘Tis a broken wind that blows this barque. Nick’s quest — call it journey — is to launch figments on the WuhWuhWuh that roll out heavy; that can’t be jacked off by algorithms. You, hypothetical reader, mon semblable, mon frère, are Branded Figment meat.

(c) 2021 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved