Hey gang; it’s me, your favorite dog. It’s me Danny the Dog! I have some exciting news to tell you. My girlfriend came to visit me last week. Her name is Louise and she and I had a lot fun together. Of course, I had to let my human tag along. His name is Andrew and he’s a loser, but enough about him. I want to talk about Louise and all the fun we had.
First of all, she took me to the park and walked with me. I was so proud to be seen with her. All the other dogs were jealous. Then we went to a place that gives you sandwiches. How cool is that! Louise and I had something called a sub sandwich. Andrew had a salad, he is such a sissy.
Then that night we went to my friends’ boat, Mike and Beth. They cooked for us and everyone had a good time. Except Andrew. He was put out that I was spending all my time with Louise. But hey, I’m with him all the time. Louise was going to be here for a few days only.
Of course, I was the star of the party. There were many humans there. Some guy called Gonzo rubbed my fur. And another human named Crabby Mike gave me a bone to chew on. And Beth hugged me and told me I was beautiful. I already knew that, but I let her say it anyway.
But after the party, I was sad. Louise walked me back to our boat and said goodnight. They don’t let dogs in where she was staying. Something called a hotel. So Andrew and I went to bed. I don’t know what he was thinking about. But I went to sleep thinking of Louise. She smelled so nice. A pleasant change from Andrew.
Beth has a brother, his name is Lloyd. He’s not too bad as far as humans go. And he happens to be a great cook, so of course he’s my friend. Anyway, he took one look at Louise and invited her and me to his house for dinner. We tried to leave Andrew behind, but somehow he got in the car. But it didn’t matter. Once at Lloyd’s place Louise and I communed, and I’ve got to say, that for a human she is alright.
Then the next day she went home. I wanted to go with her so badly. But she told me she has a dog of her own. I told her . . . no problem . . . just let me at the little monster. For some reason she didn’t take to that idea.
So here I sit with friggin’ Andrew, missing my friend Louise.
Andrew Joyce, REDEMPTION: The Further Adventures of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer
If I were to take on a project such as this, I would first want to consult a psychologist to have myself tested for sanity. To think, a renowned and time-tested series such as the "Tom Sawyer" books could be expanded, would lead me to believe I had lost all my marbles. But what I think has happened with 'Redemption', is Andrew Joyce has successfully channeled the spirit of Mark Twain into the twentieth-century. Through page after page, I read with amazement on how this could not be considered a companion to the Twain's 1876 and 1884's respective works. In a nutshell, they work together as a trilogy to complete the saga, from the imagination of two tremendous writers. Well done Mr. Joyce! -- Glen Marcus
I HAVE CHOSEN TO WRITE MY TERM PAPER ON THE Play “Othello”, written by William Shakespeare.
I want to discuss honesty and the problem of drink that run through this play and have a direct effect on the outcome of this tragedy.
Fact: Othello seems unable to see the fact that Cassio has a drinking problem.
Fact: Cassio at first does not want to admit to his need for drink. Cassio protests over and over again that he is not drunk in Act II. Scene 3, by saying “I am not drunk now. I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough.” The gentlemen he is with reply “Excellent well!” to which Cassio replies “Why, very well then, you must not think then that I am drunk.
Then later in this same scene you find Iago and Montano discussing Cassio, and Othello’s belief in Cassio, seeming that Othello is oblivious to Cassio’s problem with drink, Iago is worried about the fact that he fears the trust Othello places in Cassio, seemingly oblivious to his infirmity (drink).
One can see how Iago is encouraging Cassio to have one more drink, that it is a night to revel, that the gallants desire it. At first Cassio says no to the idea, but Iago talks him into it; after he goes out the door Cassio, in an aside, “If I can fasten but one cup upon him, with that which he hath drunk tonight already, he will be as full of quarrel and offense…” further indicating his intentions to get Cassio into major difficulty.
Because of the fact that Cassio fought Montano, Othello then states that though he loves Cassio, he will never be officer of his again.
Iago and Cassio now have dialogue about the fight he had had with Montano, while he was drunk. Cassio is bemoaning the loss of his reputation. Iago makes the statement that Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving. That Cassio had lost no reputation at all unless he reputes himself a loser. Cassio becomes concerned that he has lost his reputation after the fight with Montano, that he has lost the immortal part of himself and what remains is bestial, in other words, he gave away his reputation, when being drunk, he chose to fight, something he would not have done had he been sober.
Iago asks of Cassio the day after the fight, “Why, but you are now well enough. How came you thus recovered? Iago then further encourages Cassio to drink, saying that good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used, exclaim no more against it; knowing full well that Cassio has a definite problem with alcohol.
In Act III, one finds Cassio requesting one of the Clowns to see if the gentlewoman that attends the General’s wife (Desdemona) is stirring, and if she is to notify unto her that he (Cassio) desires speech with her.
Cassio replies “It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath. One imperfection shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. It would appear that Cassio is aware of his problem, but not enough to do something about it, like quit drinking.
As the play continues, one finds Iago saying that he “loves Cassio well and would do much to cure him of this evil (the drink).
What is also of interest is the fact that Cassio encouraged and championed Othello’s wooing of Desdemona. Cassio when not drinking was obviously different from the Cassio who in his cups, would say anything?
Iago is talking with Othello, and admits to having overheard Cassio, while dreaming, curse the fate that gave Desdemona to Othello, and how they need to hide their love. Iago speaks further about the “handkerchief” that he saw Cassio wipe his beard with, the one that which had been Othello’s first gift to his fair Desdemona. Giving Othello more ammunition to use against her, that being the act of infidelity. Ultimately giving him the proof he needed to suffocate his wife Desdemona for her dishonesty to him.
Then Othello meets with Desdemona and Emilia, and in an aside to the audience admits that he now knows that Desdemona is not being honest with him, that he must as yet dissemble to her.
When Othello asks to see the handkerchief that he had given to Desdemona, she refuses to get it when he asks her to; they argue and Othello exits, leaving her and Emilia alone. Emilia asks is not Othello jealous, to which she replies that she has never before seen Othello behave the way he just did. Cassio asks about her progress with getting him back in Othello’s good graces, to which she replies that that what she can do she will and will do more for him than for herself.
Dishonesty continues and Iago informs Othello that Cassio talked about lying with her, that is to say lie on her, not as in dishonest lie but rather to be on top of …
Iago is a major part of the lies that permeates this play. He is manipulating both Othello and Cassio. This action shows up in many scenes of the play, one in particular shows him saying “My medicine works thus credulous fools are caught, and many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach.” Iago keeps feeding Othello’s jealous concern about Desdemona’s fidelity by bringing up the missing handkerchief. It does appear that Cassio is also dishonest about his feelings for Desdemona when he laughs at the thought of marrying Desdemona, and speaking about her throwing herself at him.
Iago plays both sides of the fence with Othello and Cassio, causing Othello to lose trust in Cassio by the tales that he tells. Then he counsels Othello to patience, to listen as he, Iago, has Cassio tell the tale of when he and Desdemona were together. Cassio tells Iago that he believes that she loves him, but laughs when Iago asks him if they will marry, showing his lack of concern for the “Fair Desdemona”, just another lie.
I first read the play “Othello” a few short weeks ago, having been assigned to do a Term paper for school on a play and I chose “Othello”. Since that time I have become aware as to how much alcoholic thinking and the truth seemed to have a bad time of it in this play. Thus I chose to address the concept of how truth and drinking did not mix well, using examples from the play to illustrate this. I hope that you enjoy what I have written and leave this page with a different perspective of the play than that with which you arrived.
My so-called friends tell me that I should not write about dying. That it is morbid. But you know what I say? I say fuck it. I want to die. I want to go on to the next adventure.
We are not our bodies, we cannot be harmed. I have lived many lives in the physical. When off the physical I am God. I am not male or female, I have no body. I am God! I am a part of God as we all are. And as a part of God . . . as God himself, I can deign who lives and who dies.
Mister Finn has to die. Mister Finn has lived far too long. Mister Finn is an abomination . . . Mister Finn has to die.
Mister Finn took my sister. Mister Finn defiled her. Mister Finn will die this night . . . as I will.
I await him with the knife in my hand. I await the warm blood that will be let loose . . . that will flow onto me. I wait with death in my soul, in my being. And in my hand. I will dispatch Mister Finn . . . sweet death this night. Sweet death for us both.
His throat is slit. He is bleeding out his life.
Now me.
Now it is time to rejoin the Godhead.
I am God!
The destroyer of words. A destroyer of men! I am God . . . I am God!
My name is Tommy and I have something to say. I am nineteen and I am in love for the very first time. I want to tell you about it.
My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was five. And seeing that I had no other family, I was placed in foster care. I went through many families. Some cared and some did not. Some were in it for the money, some thought they were doing good, but they all had one thing in common. Never, not once, since my parents died did I ever feel loved.
Two weeks before my eighteenth birthday I walked out of the house of my latest foster family. As far as foster families went they weren’t so bad, but still there was no love. I put out my thumb and was going to head to Montana; I thought I might get a job on a ranch and become a modern day cowboy. But I got sided-tracked along the way.
I was outside of Kansas City, Kansas, just west on Highway 80. The sun was sinking fast and turning the western sky a rich pink. I remember thinking that God at least got his sunsets and sunrises right. Yes, at that time, at that moment, I thought God still had some work to do, and maybe He does. But as I was standing there looking westward and contemplating the good and bad of God, He changed my life. I can tell you this much, God has one hell of a sense of humor.
A lemon yellow 1973 Ford Mustang screeched to a halt and the man driving leaned over and said, “I’m heading to San Francisco, that do you any good? I nodded and opened the door. Not only the door of the car, I opened a door onto a new life.
His name was Bryant. He was a few years older than me and he told me he made his living doing something with computers. I don’t know much about computers because I’ve never owned one. The only time I fooled with them was at the high school and then only for a few minutes at a time.
Within minutes the sun was below the horizon and the stars were starting to make their nightly appearance. We did not speak as we sped across the prairie. Well, not at first, but then Bryant started a conversation that lasted until we hit Colorado. We talked about everything under the sun. Religion, politics, women, sports, death and taxes. By the time we hit the Colorado state line I had decided to continue on with Bryant all the way to San Francisco. Fuck Montana.
We came into Boulder well after midnight. He pulled into the parking lot of a cheap motel and said, “I’m getting a room and you are welcome to share it. If not, I’ll be leaving at first light and if you are on the road, I’ll pick you up.”
Half way out of the car he stopped and sat back down. “How stupid of me,” he said. “You must be hungry. Let’s rustle us up some food then you can do what you want.”
He was right I was hungry. I had not eaten all day. We found a diner still opened and he bought me the best meal I ever had.
Now this next part is kind of dicey . . . kind of private, but it is germane to the story so here goes. At school, and in my life, I had never been attracted to girls. Like computers, they were foreign to me. They were just there, part of the landscape. I was never aroused by a well-rounded ass in tight pants. Tits did nothing for me, and a smile from a pretty girl did not start my heart a racing. However, at gym class and in the showers, I thought that the male body was so much more beautiful than a female’s. But I did not dwell on it. I wasn’t a fucking faggot.
After we had our greasy hamburgers and fries, we went back to the motel and Bryant got himself a room. As I was getting my bag out of his car he said, “Up to you kid. You want to sleep outside or inside?”
I chose inside.
There was only one bed, so I figured I’d sleep on the floor.
After the lights were out, and Bryant was in bed and I was on the floor he said, “There is plenty of room over here. If you want you can share the bed.”
I wanted to share the bed with him. I was attracted to him, but I was no faggot. Or was I?
I got myself up, slid beneath the sheets, and felt his warm body. He did not make a move toward me. He did not touch me. I found myself getting hard, and I reached out and touched his face. He took my face in his hands and drew me to him. We kissed; it was my first kiss ever. His tongue probed, he was gentle.
What happened next is no concern of yours. Today, at nineteen, I am married to the most loving man in the world. He does his computer thing and I take care of the house. And at nineteen, I got love. I give love and I get love. Amen.
