- World of Webb - Where the Odd Ones Are

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Title: World of Webb - Where the Odd Ones Are
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Domain WebSite Title Odd Ones World of Odd Balls | Where mysteries are revealed and discussed Planet ODD - Here's to the ODD ones! Odd Ducks Travel - The Ramblings and Wanderings of the Odd Ones The Odd Place - Where the Odd come true Odd World Gallery - ? The Amazingly Odd World of Bumderland Odd Twist - Daily musings of an odd person in an odd world Webb - For a better business world | Universal Chasm | Where the wild ones are OddCrimes.Com | Mad World, Odd Crimes. Odd Random Thoughts | Where the Strange and Unusual Happens Webb and Stitch - Luxury clothes for little ones 0-4 years – Webb & Stitch GREAT OVER GOOD | Where the Great ones live. Memories — Where All the Best Ones Begin Where Technology Meets Business - Life With the Ones and Zeros where-in-the-world HybridTechCar - Collection of odd news around the world Alexa Rank History Chart aleax Html To Plain Text

World of Webb - Where the Odd Ones Are Skip to content World of Webb Where the Odd Ones Are Menu Home Feed the Writer Prayer Requests The People What on Earth Are You Doing! Prince Ersatz Posted on 13-April-2017 by Alan Webb Hi, my name is Prince Ersatz. Some say it is all my fault. Thanatos drank a beer at my Dad’s kitchen table a couple weeks ago. He rambled about the new bridge over the Styx made of the bones of the lost. It’s a new design that uses sinew as cable, sort of a reverse cable-stayed design where all the structure is beneath the roadbed. I busied myself over a fry pan filled with Trinity. My Dad was still recovering from the flu in the hospital. My peppers, onions, garlic, tomato, basil and thyme perfumed the room as they sweated down. Prince Ersatz, Your Name is Voldemort The family narrative states that I am the reason for all the family’s ills. If it wasn’t for me, if I had done the expected thing, none of this would have happened. It did happen. I am nearly three-score years old. Nearly three generations have been born since the waning days of 1959 when I became a first-born fact. I have three sisters. The youngest laid her miseries at my feet a generation ago. Because of me she had to carry the miseries of the globe. Because of me she had to rescue that doe-eyed child on TV who can grow up to be a first-worldy for only a nickel a day. I find it odd that I have so much power over my baby sister Jolana when the longest span of time I have spent with her in a generation and a half is a weekend at her place in Cancun. Even more impressive is the premise that my family is miserable because of me. Do I feel the weight of this guilt? No. The amount of power claimed for me far outstrips the actual influence I have over my kin. It is my fault. It is my compliance with their strictures that will bring harmony to them. They deny owning any agency for their circumstances. I am a safe straw-man for their bad choices. Blaming me relieves them of owning their shit. ? ? ? The fact of me, the IRL bard of this blog, spends little time on this. I have better things to do. After 2,157,062,400 breaths I found peace. I am happy the way the Dalai Llama means happy. One more thing–I won. The most hateful, despicable, horrible, awful evilist evil brother ever to breath life has become the brother all three sisters look to for leadership. After all that I am not the pretender to the throne. I am the heir to the seat as the family patriarch. The most lowly is in charge. I spoke last with Jolana on the phone. She swore that I was abusing my son and would never speak to me again. At dispute was whether my son would spend the summer with her. My mother was his custodial parent. The choice was not mine to make. I am Voldemort so if I wanted Jolana’s approval I would force my son’s mother to comply. Jolana met my reply with curses and derision. I recommend getting cussed at in Mayan inflected Spanish. It is a wonder to hear. My first awareness of my improved status happened a few years ago. We were gathered at my Dad’s house for a visit. Dinner took place at my Dad’s favorite buffet. I feared the worst. I dreaded a shouting match with Jolana that would cause some of us to wait out the meal outside the restaurant. The moment came, I said, “hey“. She replied, “hey” and moved to the far end of the table. Message received. I Crown You Prince Ersatz Then last summer I was visiting again and she came over. Again we exchanged pleasantries and moved through a couple hours being civil to each other. She behaved toward me as if no harsh words had ever been said. I was not Voldemort. I was just a brother in the room she could chat with. My head almost exploded. This was crazy making for me. No reconciliation. No words of contrition. Nothing. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to give her the what for. The only thing I said was to Lina, “I am just going to go with it.” So I did. A few weeks ago I had a long phone convo with Lina. We laughed that I had gained in rank against Lina so that I was less evil than she. Unspoken and unnerving for me was the way I was being treated. Lina wanted guidance from me. How would I handle my son and Jolana? Back when Jolana swore to never speak to me it was I who was evil because my son would not agree to be rescued from the clutches of his evil parents. If I understood I would convince my son that Jolana could save him by dictating a strict regime of therapy, medication, college and a good job. I did understand and that was the problem. ? ? ? Jolana spent a weekend in the hospital again. Upon release she was campaigning to save my son from the evil clutches of Lina. The answer he must accomplish was to come back to Jolana and do the regime he didn’t finish. I, as the heir and nominal patriarch, ought to make my son comply. You read this blog. You know who I write for. We don’t give a flying fuck about what you think we are supposed to do. We punch obnoxious authority figures in the face. Yes, there are consequences. It does not stop us. My son is not as aggressively defiant as I. When his back is up he tends to be a bit catatonic. Jolana’s regime was not received well. In the generations since I left the castle I learned a few lessons. One of them is a regime like Jolana’s cannot succeed. The fail is in the heart of the one dictating the tasks in the regime. Even if executed perfectly it becomes a fail anyway. Some detail, some small thing will be wrong that ruins it. I learned to quit caring whether the one dictating the regime approves of my performance. I knew I’d be yelled at for failure regardless. This left me to do the right thing without care for how I’d be evaluated. I walk the high road in peace. Please be Well So I Can Be Well When I went to visit my Dad Jolana and I again spoke pleasantries. She wanted to know how I was doing. Well, I’d say. One of the oddities of our relationship is that she secretly emulates me. If I am doing well she will try to do well. If my life is in a shitty place then she will similarly experience misery. It gives me power over her I don’t want. Lately we are both doing well. The last event was a forty minute sales pitch by Jolana. At the core of it was an annoyance that my son and I had failed to comply. We had not done what she asked in the manner that she dictated and to her satisfaction. My son Tito should leave Lina because that bitch was abusing him. Lina was controlling Tito and making him fail at college. All Tito had to do is come back to Cancun and return to his studies in integrated pest control. Tito had gone dark. His way of refusing the plan. I was his father so it was my duty to intervene for Tito’s safety. I gave the wrong answer. Tito is his own man. He has a right to make his own choices. Playing the keyboards in a club in Camden was a choice. It isn’t a steady job choice. It is still his choice to make. Jolana insists that Tito must complete college and get a good job. Tito’s music career is a road to rui... Whois

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