The women Ciral left have gone home since
we foreshadowed that feat. (Are we not proud?)
I tried as well to drop sufficient hints
that God has come to work the compound crowd.
I shouldn’t be so hard on the big guy,
for in our story, He came out on top.
I wouldn’t want it spread around that I
am not a gracious loser to Our Pop.
That still sounds adversarial. Oh, dear.
That connotation would be inexact.
I know why people need something to fear.
That fits with Ciral’s theory, in fact.
Which is? All who have managed to digest
the gist can just skip past this to the end,
and, most unfortunately for the rest,
all firsthand knowledge perished with our friend.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 13-18
Before we leave, I’d like to linger on
the question of God’s new identity.
I have a picture by a master drawn.
I copy it. What image do you see?
Or better yet: You find a long-lost sheet
of notes and plunk them out on your guitar.
They represented melody and beat
but weren’t those things before, and now they are.
You certainly did not compose that piece.
Did it exist, though, in the heretofore?
When no one heard it, did the music cease?
Or was it dormant, like a mildew spore?
Suppose that, unbeknownst to you, the song
is being played somewhere they don’t read notes,
evolving somewhat as it goes along
from strings to ear through various misquotes.
I’m thinking that when these two versions meet,
those who have learned the tune will disagree
which one is more sublime or sounds more sweet,
all based on which one was know previously.
Let’s drop that, though; the two gods’ paths won’t cross.
The indoor god stays happily within,
oblivious of ’97’s loss
and the existence of His outdoor kin.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
the question of God’s new identity.
I have a picture by a master drawn.
I copy it. What image do you see?
Or better yet: You find a long-lost sheet
of notes and plunk them out on your guitar.
They represented melody and beat
but weren’t those things before, and now they are.
You certainly did not compose that piece.
Did it exist, though, in the heretofore?
When no one heard it, did the music cease?
Or was it dormant, like a mildew spore?
Suppose that, unbeknownst to you, the song
is being played somewhere they don’t read notes,
evolving somewhat as it goes along
from strings to ear through various misquotes.
I’m thinking that when these two versions meet,
those who have learned the tune will disagree
which one is more sublime or sounds more sweet,
all based on which one was know previously.
Let’s drop that, though; the two gods’ paths won’t cross.
The indoor god stays happily within,
oblivious of ’97’s loss
and the existence of His outdoor kin.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
Saturday, January 12, 2013
In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 9-12
Hey, wait a minute: Why are we concerned
about a nonexistent entity?
One is, in all effect, something that turned
into a god from nothing, isn’t she?
The fact that we’re discussing her, though, shows
that she is something worthy of our thought.
Must everything be smelled by someone’s nose,
or seen, or heard, or touched to not be naught?
And that reminds me: Where is our equivalent?
When last we saw Him outside, he’d been raised
from mere words on a paper testament
to His old state, essentially unfazed.
Is this the God who lived in Esther’s brain?
If so, He never died (although He shrank).
I’d still be as impressed. He rose again
with none among the insiders to thank.
Worthy of our thought: Here we return to the meme theme that he started to develop in Canto I. ©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
about a nonexistent entity?
One is, in all effect, something that turned
into a god from nothing, isn’t she?
The fact that we’re discussing her, though, shows
that she is something worthy of our thought.
Must everything be smelled by someone’s nose,
or seen, or heard, or touched to not be naught?
And that reminds me: Where is our equivalent?
When last we saw Him outside, he’d been raised
from mere words on a paper testament
to His old state, essentially unfazed.
Is this the God who lived in Esther’s brain?
If so, He never died (although He shrank).
I’d still be as impressed. He rose again
with none among the insiders to thank.
Worthy of our thought: Here we return to the meme theme that he started to develop in Canto I. ©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
Sunday, January 6, 2013
In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 5-8
Oh well, they’ll be okay. Someday the sign
from One they’ve been awaiting will appear
to give them new direction and refine
the nature of the creature that they fear.
The more they wait, the more will be their needs.
The more they need, the lesser they’ll accept.
I’m starving, so I’ll eat some poppy seeds.
I’ll lie on concrete if I haven’t slept.
Some will be faithful, yet discouraged by
the way the sinners do what sinners do.
They’ll go out in the wilderness and cry
for One to show the sinners who is who.
And what the tubes will read as One’s response
will modifiy their dogma, more or less.
The mother of them all will have new wants.
Precisely what is anybody’s guess.
Someday the sign…will appear: Or not. If it doesn’t come through in time, “Tincandom” will go the way of the Neanderthals. To make Ciral’s theory complete, we need to include the probability that some groups of humans did not find religion when they became aware of the meaning of life, that they perished for its lack, and that some who did develop a faith system didn’t survive as well as those with stronger or more adaptable religions. Again, one wishes that he had elaborated on these important points. The closest he came to explaining this was the one television interview he gave: “I had run out of rhymes by that point.”
Poppy seed…concrete: I’d say Merrimac is grasping at straws with these analogies.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
from One they’ve been awaiting will appear
to give them new direction and refine
the nature of the creature that they fear.
The more they wait, the more will be their needs.
The more they need, the lesser they’ll accept.
I’m starving, so I’ll eat some poppy seeds.
I’ll lie on concrete if I haven’t slept.
Some will be faithful, yet discouraged by
the way the sinners do what sinners do.
They’ll go out in the wilderness and cry
for One to show the sinners who is who.
And what the tubes will read as One’s response
will modifiy their dogma, more or less.
The mother of them all will have new wants.
Precisely what is anybody’s guess.
Someday the sign…will appear: Or not. If it doesn’t come through in time, “Tincandom” will go the way of the Neanderthals. To make Ciral’s theory complete, we need to include the probability that some groups of humans did not find religion when they became aware of the meaning of life, that they perished for its lack, and that some who did develop a faith system didn’t survive as well as those with stronger or more adaptable religions. Again, one wishes that he had elaborated on these important points. The closest he came to explaining this was the one television interview he gave: “I had run out of rhymes by that point.”
Poppy seed…concrete: I’d say Merrimac is grasping at straws with these analogies.
©2013 Louis A. Merrimac
Friday, November 25, 2011
In the Next Life, Canto IV, stanzas 1-4
CANTO IV: THE REVELATION
In which we evaluate the boy’s theory and consider whether we should show more compassion, and perhaps even some respect, toward the gods, without whom, after all, we would never have been born.
And God said, 'Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.
—Genesis 1:26
Now ’97’s followers are lost.
Their savior died again. This just won’t do.
They gave up all and let themselves be bossed.
If she keeps dying they won’t know what’s true.
If she’s legitimate, she’s lost her touch.
She’s left them ere she told them what to be,
and rising twice from death would be too much,
unless it’s just some parlor trickery.
Oh, never mind the poor thing never claimed
she was a god or anything like that.
They feel embarrassed; therefore, she’ll get blamed.
They have the human character down pat.
It’s quite a shame it had to end so soon.
Old One could use a little help right now.
A miracle like that would be a boon
to Tincandom, though they would not know how.
Let us make man: The reason for using this quote becomes apparent shortly. Merrimac avoids holding this up next to the belief in the One True God as some have. “Suppose you believed that people should stop washing away their natural body oils. Would you analyze Ivory Soap to learn whether it’s really 99 and 44/100 percent pure? I doubt that finding more than .56% of non-soapy stuff would persuade anyone to stop bathing. Besides, my purpose is not to dissuade anyone from religion, nor even to make fun of it. I’m just throwing some ideas out for discussion.”
Parlor trickery: So why don’t they simply pretend they saw a miracle and agree on a story to spread? I suspect it’s due to a lack of encouragement from the would-be savior herself. I think he could have developed this contrast with Christianity a little more.
Human character: I believe this is the only place where the author directly compares the carriers to our own species.
Would not know how: Here is the central message of this whole undertaking. Religion is good for humanity, but not in any of the ways it has been made out to be so, and there are important reasons for us not to understand the nature of the relationship. Religion benefits humanity only if we consider humanity as something essentially separate from the individuals comprising it. Merrimac believes he is the first thinker to make this distinction wide enough to see between the two. I think Dawkins and some others have made it that far, but they perhaps weren’t looking through the gap at quite the same angle.
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
In which we evaluate the boy’s theory and consider whether we should show more compassion, and perhaps even some respect, toward the gods, without whom, after all, we would never have been born.
And God said, 'Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.
—Genesis 1:26
Now ’97’s followers are lost.
Their savior died again. This just won’t do.
They gave up all and let themselves be bossed.
If she keeps dying they won’t know what’s true.
If she’s legitimate, she’s lost her touch.
She’s left them ere she told them what to be,
and rising twice from death would be too much,
unless it’s just some parlor trickery.
Oh, never mind the poor thing never claimed
she was a god or anything like that.
They feel embarrassed; therefore, she’ll get blamed.
They have the human character down pat.
It’s quite a shame it had to end so soon.
Old One could use a little help right now.
A miracle like that would be a boon
to Tincandom, though they would not know how.
Let us make man: The reason for using this quote becomes apparent shortly. Merrimac avoids holding this up next to the belief in the One True God as some have. “Suppose you believed that people should stop washing away their natural body oils. Would you analyze Ivory Soap to learn whether it’s really 99 and 44/100 percent pure? I doubt that finding more than .56% of non-soapy stuff would persuade anyone to stop bathing. Besides, my purpose is not to dissuade anyone from religion, nor even to make fun of it. I’m just throwing some ideas out for discussion.”
Parlor trickery: So why don’t they simply pretend they saw a miracle and agree on a story to spread? I suspect it’s due to a lack of encouragement from the would-be savior herself. I think he could have developed this contrast with Christianity a little more.
Human character: I believe this is the only place where the author directly compares the carriers to our own species.
Would not know how: Here is the central message of this whole undertaking. Religion is good for humanity, but not in any of the ways it has been made out to be so, and there are important reasons for us not to understand the nature of the relationship. Religion benefits humanity only if we consider humanity as something essentially separate from the individuals comprising it. Merrimac believes he is the first thinker to make this distinction wide enough to see between the two. I think Dawkins and some others have made it that far, but they perhaps weren’t looking through the gap at quite the same angle.
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 381-390
“Here’s what we’ll do: We’ll stop and make our camp
and find some fresh disciples in the morn.
The ones we have won’t do to make our stamp.
Their humans know that few are in this borne.
We’ll watch for signals in the newer set.
When one displays its red light we’ll do ours.
They’ll have to give us half, so half we’ll get,
and some will be like you—some pretty flowers.
“I’ll pollinate their pistillated parts.
They’ll be unable to resist this bod.
And you’ll be first among the fallen hearts.
Youl’ll get your due before I spend my wad.
“From that I’ll get my raw materiel,
along with pre-existing empty slates.
I’ll write thereon that the most lasting Hell
is that which blind obedience creates.”
Her bubble burst, poor Esther stood and stared.
It seemed to her that everything had stopped.
She drew a breath, and though extremely scared,
reached downward for the panel she had dropped.
He rolled his eyes and said, “How cute you look,
but soon your arm will tire; you’ll leave it lay.”
She knew she would; he’d read her like a book.
He paused a moment; then he turned away.
Despite her normal youthful lack of sense,
our heroine could still tell right from wrong,
and wrong it was to practice violence
for selfish reasons. No, she must be strong.
Her grip relaxed; her shoulder took the weight.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prayed.
A Christian, she must not be moved by hate.
A judgment based on values must be made.
’Twas momentary anger, she could tell.
His was no crime the law would recognize,
and killing him would sentence her as well.
Plus, now she’d no advantage of surprise.
Besides, her jealousy had no good base.
The skull before her was not hers to break.
The Mission, though, was quite another case.
She had to do it for the Mission’s sake.
The Mission’s sake: So Ciral thought he understood how culturgens influenced people’s behavior, but having grown up in a culture that lacked powerful beliefs, he didn’t grasp how strong that influence could be. Merrimac chose not to develop this theme, preferring instead to hit us on the head with it, as it were,
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
and find some fresh disciples in the morn.
The ones we have won’t do to make our stamp.
Their humans know that few are in this borne.
We’ll watch for signals in the newer set.
When one displays its red light we’ll do ours.
They’ll have to give us half, so half we’ll get,
and some will be like you—some pretty flowers.
“I’ll pollinate their pistillated parts.
They’ll be unable to resist this bod.
And you’ll be first among the fallen hearts.
Youl’ll get your due before I spend my wad.
“From that I’ll get my raw materiel,
along with pre-existing empty slates.
I’ll write thereon that the most lasting Hell
is that which blind obedience creates.”
Her bubble burst, poor Esther stood and stared.
It seemed to her that everything had stopped.
She drew a breath, and though extremely scared,
reached downward for the panel she had dropped.
He rolled his eyes and said, “How cute you look,
but soon your arm will tire; you’ll leave it lay.”
She knew she would; he’d read her like a book.
He paused a moment; then he turned away.
Despite her normal youthful lack of sense,
our heroine could still tell right from wrong,
and wrong it was to practice violence
for selfish reasons. No, she must be strong.
Her grip relaxed; her shoulder took the weight.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prayed.
A Christian, she must not be moved by hate.
A judgment based on values must be made.
’Twas momentary anger, she could tell.
His was no crime the law would recognize,
and killing him would sentence her as well.
Plus, now she’d no advantage of surprise.
Besides, her jealousy had no good base.
The skull before her was not hers to break.
The Mission, though, was quite another case.
She had to do it for the Mission’s sake.
The Mission’s sake: So Ciral thought he understood how culturgens influenced people’s behavior, but having grown up in a culture that lacked powerful beliefs, he didn’t grasp how strong that influence could be. Merrimac chose not to develop this theme, preferring instead to hit us on the head with it, as it were,
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 345-349
As he had ordered, so did she obey,
and when he motioned her to take the helm,
she did so, finding to her deep dismay
that even wordless, he could overwhelm.
While Esther kept the course they had begun,
an interval less lengthy than it seemed,
she watched as Ciral’s outlook came undone,
enchanted by the way his forehead gleamed.
When he at last looked up, the gleam had moved
into his eyes, and brightly he declared,
“Again I thank you, Esther, you’ve improved
the quarry that you thought you’d snared.
“I’m human, and I shall no more pretend
that I’m not subject to an inner tide.
It’s part of me, not something I can end
the way I waved away my weaker side.”
Another riddle. This time Esther guessed:
“So you’ll receive the Lord into your heart?
You’re ready, just like that, to be so blest?”
She was ecstatic—this would be her start.
His laugh, though gentle, slipped between her ribs.
“Although I know why God is held so dear,
I can’t believe what I know to be fibs.
I shan’t pretend. Did I not make that clear?
“Your way of thinking wants to replicate.
As well mine does, and I’ll no longer fight
my nature. To be like you is my fate.
This, strangely, is more powerful than spite.
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
and when he motioned her to take the helm,
she did so, finding to her deep dismay
that even wordless, he could overwhelm.
While Esther kept the course they had begun,
an interval less lengthy than it seemed,
she watched as Ciral’s outlook came undone,
enchanted by the way his forehead gleamed.
When he at last looked up, the gleam had moved
into his eyes, and brightly he declared,
“Again I thank you, Esther, you’ve improved
the quarry that you thought you’d snared.
“I’m human, and I shall no more pretend
that I’m not subject to an inner tide.
It’s part of me, not something I can end
the way I waved away my weaker side.”
Another riddle. This time Esther guessed:
“So you’ll receive the Lord into your heart?
You’re ready, just like that, to be so blest?”
She was ecstatic—this would be her start.
His laugh, though gentle, slipped between her ribs.
“Although I know why God is held so dear,
I can’t believe what I know to be fibs.
I shan’t pretend. Did I not make that clear?
“Your way of thinking wants to replicate.
As well mine does, and I’ll no longer fight
my nature. To be like you is my fate.
This, strangely, is more powerful than spite.
©2011 Louis A. Merrimac
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