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FEJFAR, ESQ., COIF © COPYRIGHT 2004 BY ANTHONY J. FEJFAR, ESQ., COIF
All three men woke up about 6:00 p.m. and Father Tony Fitzgerald fixed pancakes for supper. Figuring that the bears would not be attracted to pancakes, although maybe the maple syrup, Father Tony skillet fried the pancakes just outside his tent. He used a Coleman propane bottle with a screw down seven by seven inch burner attachment fitted on the top of the squat green bottle, which in turn sat upon a plastic stabalizing base.. He put the light Coleman camping frying pan on top and sprayed a little PAM olive oil on the inside.
Within a few minutes the tops of the pancakes were bubbling away. One of the tricks of grilling flap jacks was to wait for the bubbles to disperse throughout the top of the flap jacks, and then flip them over. Too soon, and the pancakes fell apart into a mess, too late, and the bottoms burned. The real secret was to not let the heat under the frying pan to get too hot. If you did, no matter how hard you
tried, the pancakes always burned. Backpacking pancakes were pretty easy to fix. You just mixed up the flour, baking soda, and sugar ahead of time, with dried powdered eggs and powdered milk. The result was better than the commercial brands that so many people had started using.
We were on the third skillet of pancakes, when we heard a holler from a ways off, “Ho there in the camp, can we come and pitch our tents for the night?” asked a guy about 150 yards out, “Come on in and have some pancakes,” I said,
“and let a load off those feet.” As I said this, I took the precaution of easing my Walther, P22 pistol out of my backpack pouch, and slipping it under my shirt, and made sure that my clip lockblade knife was tucked safely under my belt.
“Jesus, Tony, its not as if we’re here to hit you or anything,” said Sean O’Reilly. “And for that matter, I’m not so sure that you’d even be remembering us,” said Liam Brown. “All right, I can see that your O’Reilly and Brown, IRA saints, extraordiaire. When did you start out?” “Oh, we flew into Newark last yesterday from Prague, and then connected to Toronto, then back down to Denver, and into Jackson Hole, where we spent the night. We drank a bit of home brewed beer at that nice microbrewery called “Jack’s Place,” and rented a car.”
“Did you know that the proprieter is one Jack O’Malley, born in County Cork, in Ireland, and then moving his pub to Jackson Hole in the late 1980's. Although he denies it, everyone says that Jack is the reincarnation of Jack Kennedy. His brother Bobby O’Malley, of course, is you know who. Bobby is the enforcer who read law at Oxford, and then went through the socratic wringer at Nebraska Law, the Harvard of the Plains, you know.”
“Yes, it is nice to know that some schools are still “old school” and are not buckling under to that satanic po mo matriarchal crap.” said Stan. “It’s almost as if they have forgotten the feminist critique of the Great Smothering Mother,” said Tony. “Wasn’t the lead piece on that by Sharon Kumatsu, the Japanese American scholar at U.C.L.A.?” asked Stan. “I think that it was,” said Sean, “a bit awkard after that encyclical by the pope saying that sexism was a sin. I’m sure that in the abstract we all agreed with your worship, but then again, it must be admitted that the women have their dark side as well, mustn’t it?”
“Perhaps if the pope would take a mistress he might become more closely aquainted with the feminine wiles” said Liam. “Yes, and if the pope were
to take a mistress you can bet she would have him wrapped around her KGB finger in a minute, and then all we would hear would be the evils of American this and that, no critique of the east at all.” said Sean.
“Well, how does that Walther feel in your fanny pack, there Tony?” asked Sean. “Not bad, not bad,” said Tony, “do you think I’ll need it?” “Ah, sure, and how would I be knowing that?” asked Sean. “This is a bunch of blarney,” said Dan Corgill, “who are these guys?” “Sean and Liam are both Professors at Trinity in Dublin, Sean teaches History and Liam teaches Jurisprudence. We met for the first time, here I am going with the flow of my unconscious, at Acre, during the Crusades, as I recall.
“Stan and I rescued Sean and Liam from a Moslem torture chamber. They had snuck into the citadel to see if the Sheik’s harem was as beautiful as they were saying. They hid out for a month enjoying paradaise in the harem when the Vizier, Aq Genino, spotted them and had them put into the sub basement prison, awaiting torture. Half the torture was waiting for your number to come up, listening to the screams of torment.
“Anyway, Sean and Liam, God bless their souls, had only been in the torture chamber for one day, surviving the first round of Chinese water torture, when Stan and I, and a few other free yoemen from Sherwood forest in England, broke in and rescued them. “Yes, and you made sure that each of us swore a life debt to you and House Fitzgerald, before you let us out of our chains,” replied Liam. “Well, we can’t be having too much charity can we, when good friendships are built upon mutually owed favors?” said Tony.
“Favors,” said Sean, “with that damnable Grand Vizier Aq Genino squirming right in front of us, peniored with your blade at his back, as if we really had a choice.” “Are you claiming unconscionability in Equity, then, Sean?” asked Stan. “No, no, not with the Chancellor of the Realm sitting right in front of me, having waived any conflicts in Equity, no, I don’t think that would have been advisable at all, not at all, at all.”
“I think that I would have preferred those drops of water landing in my mouth, rather than on my forehead,” said Liam. “Yes, if only we were all Platonic Idealists, and wishing could make it so.” said Father Tony. “In any event, tell us
about Prague,” said Tony, “what did you Irish Republican Army boyos find out since our last conversation, where I recommended that exquisite city to you.” said Tony.
“Well, first of all, we ran into none other than Louis Andropov, former chairman of the Soviet KGB, in a Bohemian restaurant in Prague. Interestingly, he was eating the Bohemian potato dumplings instead of the Moravian bread dumplings. I thought that to be significant.” said Liam.
‘Now Liam, I didn’t know you were Czech,” said Father Tony. “I’m not Czech, which basically means magyar or cossack, depending upon your druthers, I’m Bohemian-Irish, half and half. We are a separate race just like our cousins the Basque’s in the Pyrrenee’s Mountains, on the border of northern Espana. The bohemians really have more in common with the Bavarian Germans, than they do with the more slovak, Moravians. The Bohemians use the latin alphabet and tend to be either Roman Catholic or Byzantine Catholic, while the Moravians tend now to be either Protestant Hussites, Protestant Moravians, or Russian or Eastern Orthodox., using the cyrillic alphabet” said Liam.
“Ah, the cyrillic alphabet,” said Father Tony. “Anybody know it’s greatest weakness?” he asked. “Well,” said Dan, “you can’t directly use it with the roman alphabet, I mean, first the words are different, and then the symbols are different. For example, a Russian guy at a bar in Chicago, who by the way was more than a little drunk on Smirnov’s vodka, said that in Russia there is no such concept as a “shower.”
“ So, if you hang out around people enough, you might notice that certain people always say that they are going to “take a bath” when in fact that person is going to take a “shower.” It is so engrained into the Russian psyche,
that a buddy of mine at Langley told me that the CIA uses this as a standard vetting tool to spot KGB infiltration agents. A person raised in Russia, during the formative years, will inevitably always say, time for my bath, never, time for my shower.”
“Well, Dan, that is a good one, but let me one up.” said Father Tony, “and believe me, I only got this one by osmosis, over the years, teaching and hanging out with jesuits, and, with all due respects to Rene Girard, the greatest secret since the foundation of the world, is, not minemic rivalry, as Rene suggests, but, that users of the cyrillic alphabet cannot conceptualize the number zero. They always start counting with number one. If you ask a cyrillic Russian what five plus zero equals, he won’t know. He may get it, but that is only because he is channeling someone who thinks alphanumerically in the roman alphabet with hindu arabic numbers.
A real Russian can only count with stick numbers, or with roman numerals, neither of which contain the number zero. It is because of this, and this alone, that there is such a vast cultural difference between east and west. The idea of Spirit or the Void, for example, which suggests a sense of absence or nothingness, is impossible for a cyrillic thinker. It they do get taught, it is not unitl graduate school, and it is at this point that they can only engage in formal mathematics, which involves zeros, at levels four or five of human consciousness, when of course, they should be able to do it at level two.
The CIA began vetting people and its agents with zero vetting, but soon found out that so many of its agents were Russians, infiltrated to the United States from Cuba, by way of Florida and Texas, that they lost heart and began giving up. They are finally starting to do “zero vetting” again and are having great success.
Ironically, there is a political impact of this as well, if your ultimate number is one as infinity, rather than zero as infinity, then you tend toward an excessive desire for oneness, in terms of unity and conformity, and of course, just one premier or dictator at the top, “The Boss,” as comrade Kruschev used to affectionately refer to comrade Stalin. Or was that the pig in George Orwell’s Animal Farm? I always get the two mixed up.”
“So, what was Louis Andropov doing in Prague, Sean? asked Father Tony. “Well, the lad has a very nice furnished apartment, and a male misteress.” “Misteress?” said Father Tony. “Yeah,” said Sean, “it’s a new avant garde term, nobody like gigolo or aquisition amymore, so some guy in Prague came up with the idea that if you have a girlfriend, and you are getting laid, then she is a mistress, if it is a boyfriend, for either a man or a woman, he is a misteress. As in, “hey mister, how is it going?” Anyway, Andropov has a homosexual male punk for a boyfriend, but here is the interesting part, Andropov is only in Prague about half the time, the other half the time he is in America, and, guess where? said Sean.
“I have no idea,” said Father Tony and Father Stan, simultaneously. “How about you lad, what do you think Dan Corgill?” “Me,” said Dan, “well, coming off my Tai Chi training exercise from this afternoon, I would have to say, well, this is just a guess, of course, how about, good old Lewistown, Minnesota?” Both O’Reilly and Brown laughed. “Well, good for you lad, you are as close as close can be. Louis Andropov, a.k.a., Doctor Francis Olmstead, is a NSA registered shrink, that is, psychiatrist, in Lubbock, Minnesota, only five miles down the road, across the river.”
“Well, how do we set up the good Doctor, Dean Gregor, Vice Dean Parker, Father Andrev, and Joan Parker?” asked Father Tony. “And, come to think of it, are Sister Joan Parker and Vice Dean Parker, related?” “Funny you should ask,” said Father Stan, trying to get a word in edgewise, “they are related, or at least that is what the rumor mill says. They were married five years ago, and then broke up. Apparently she didn’t bother with her chastity vow, or it they were practicing a lot of the techniques for non sexual sex out of the Kama Sutra” said Stan.
“I understand that if you are in a satanic cult, they believe in polygamy, and each member is required to marry another member ad nauseaum, with the “satanic” marriage certificate filed in the registrar of deeds office rather than in the normal place. It is not surprising to find an experienced satanist with ten or fifteen spouses, often with same sex marriages. The idea that this might be bigamy, seems to go right on by them, I guess.” said Father Stan.
“Well, we have Father Stan dating Sister Joan, or at least trying to. Stan, lets see if we can get you into their satanic cult without you losing your conscience, let alone your life” “Dan, we are going to set you up as the Legion of God, scapegoat. There always is one in any satanic cult, and this one is a good one to have you try on for size. In ordinary times this would be very difficult, but remember, we are here every step of the way to help you. In the process you will gain a lot of personal power, ala Don Juan de Matus, and a fair amount of wisdom, which is of course better.”
“Sean and Liam, I’ll get each of you visiting appointments as scholars in residence at Lewistown, with both of you in the law school, Sean in History of Law, and Liam in Jurisprudence. No, teachng, not yet, we might end up with too many scapegoats around, and that wouldn’t be right, would it?” The fun thing is
that my first move will be to talk to the superior of the Jesuit House, Father McGloin, the President of the University, Father McThackery, and the Provincial. Undoubtedly one of them will squeal and then we will have the enemy in a great double bind, to penure Corgill, or to tenure him, that is the question, whether it is nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of scapegoating, or intead, to..... Well something or other.
But first, Sean, Liam, anything else to report?” “Well, like you suspected, Dean Gregor and Vice Dean Bill Parker are moslem Bosnians, but get this, so are Sister Joan Parker and Father Leon Andrev. They are all apostates, believing that Allah is Satan, not Atman, the God of One. Even the orthodox moslems, what few of them are left, hate these infidel moslems.
“The crusades are upon us again, And by the way, Father Tony and Father Stan, remember that in those lives in the Holy Land, you, Tony and Stan, as well as Liam and I, Sean, were canonized by Pope Innocent the III, and granted immortality on earth, by Jesus Himself, through apparition and elocutions on hallowed ground in the Church of the Nativity..”
“Well, Dan, that leaves only you, by the end of it we promise that you will be canonized and made immortal in Jesus Christ, as a Jesuit marytr. It does work. Dan, can you remember the prologue to the gospel of John, asked Father Tony. “I think so,” said Dan, “in the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God, and nothing came into being without the Logos.” “Dan, you are now an installed Roman Catholic and Byzantine Catholic Jesuit Reader. Let’s finish Mass. And they did.
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