INDEPENDENCE DAY ~ By Matthew S. Magda of Harbinger*33

Lovely Ladies and Genuine Gents ~

 

THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER shall return AT THE BIJOU next Sunday in its regular matinee time slot, but now . . . quite fittingly . . . this star'spangled patriotic message from an historian of the world many of us are fortunate to keep on knowing the more ~

INDEPENDENCE DAY

~ By Matthew S. Magda

        It is sobering to know that a recent poll revealed that 26% of Americans did not know from whom their country had declared its independence.  That’s right -- more than a quarter of the adult population did not know that the United States had declared its independence from Great Britain.  Most identified the wrong country and some simply did not have any idea. 

More disturbing, however, is that most people in another poll could not identify the founding principles of this country as stated in the Declaration of Independence.  Even worse was that many rejected those principles when stated to them.  This does not harbinger well for the future of the United States.  Truly, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison would be saddened by this knowledge. They surely would have believed that Americans would have come to understand the importance of their “revolution” and their rejection of rule by a monarch. 

Abraham Lincoln understood that this country was founded on a world transforming concept, that “all men are created equal.” That all are entitled to have their “natural rights” of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness protected.  That a government was only legitimate if it received its authority from the consent of the governed.  That the fundamental test of the Civil War was whether a nation dedicated to the fulfillment of these principles could survive.  Fortunately for this country, Lincoln led us through a terrible time of peril for our republic.  In his Gettysburg Address he rededicated this country to its founding principles as stated in the Declaration of Independence.  

On this July 4^th, let us remember and memorialize the courageous individuals who fought for American independence.  Let us also realize that it is ideas that are the most powerful things on earth, and, thus, let each of us rededicate ourselves to the fulfillment of the principles of the Declaration of Independence.  

(c) 2010 ~ Author Matthew S. Magda 

Visualizations: SilkyRed1, GWBurke, Boobooetmoi

 MATT MAGDA is scholar, teacher, writer, historian and in his own sense of self, 'global citizen'. In his day, he's held the post of Deputy Chief of History in the Historical and Museum Commission for the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, co-written an Encyclopedia Brittanica entry on Philadelphia, published historical books and papers and can spin a real good yarn as well. Catch what he does to that age-old following of the feeling "Love" in the upcoming  HARBINGER*33. In his home state of Connecticut, from a home built when Abe Lincoln was building his solid rep, in a little town close to the sea that sits at the confluence of two rivers, Matthew is on the adjunct faculty of the University of Connecticut, teaches at Wilby High School, Sacred Heart University and in the summer when he runs out of things to do with his lively (true blue) companion, he is a master teacher at the Yale Summer Institute for European Studies. He writes as he ponders ~ strong and true ... and in this memorable message ~ he certainly raised the grand ol'flag of pensive thought on our red, white and blue!

Thank*you Matthew for sharing your high fine ideals and giving Harry and I a week off to center in all the goings-on in our BIJOU crime plot ... but most of all, THANKS for my believing in believers tenacity knowing the valour of you.

~ Absolutely*Kate

       and our fine staff of renown

*AT THE BIJOU*

Happy4thofJulyFolks!

Pursue your Happiness

and Declare all your Freedoms! 

"EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED" ~ AT THE BIJOU AS ONE UNDER THE DESERT SUN

"Everything is connected."

                                                ~ Barry J. Northern,

                                                CHASING THE WIND

JOIN IN THE ENERGIES

*AT THE BIJOU*

as fellow authors,
and companions aboard 

HARBINGER*33

herald the finale ~

BARRY J. NORTHERN's
"Chasing the Wind"

Tis the stuff

magick

was made for.

~ Jeanette Cheezum ~

 

~ Anthony Venutolo ~ 
 

~ Absolutely*Kate

  

~ Matthew Magda ~

*AT THE BIJOU*

for Barry's finale.

"Everything   

is connected."

                                               

~ Barry J. Northern,

CHASING THE WIND 

PRELUDE BY CHUMS ~ HARBINGERING BARRY J. NORTHERN'S "CHASING THE WIND"

An Ode to Chasing the Wind

Barry, Aloethar, and Walfrid

strolling/riding through the

winds/sands of time.

Are now near their oasis.

Only time will tell if it’s

Jewels or rocks, Liquid

or sawdust, or

Heaven or hell.

~ By Jeanette Cheezum

 Harbingering . . . Barry J. Northern's mystical desert finale

 ~  CHASING THE WIND  ~

CHANGE OF VENUE

Based on the big cornfed barkeep galoot

from my BIJOU story ...  AN UNLIKELY PARTNER <

I made a bunch of loot helping out some Clyde in my bar back in Naked City. You see, his chick shot a few holes in him and I, protecting my joint, shot a few holes in her.

As a thanks, he threw me half of the take from their big fix on a crooked boxing match. I naturally accepted and thought it was the perfect opportunity to get out of Dodge and set up shop somewhere warm.

I turned to the want ads from my local daily rag and snatched up some cheap land smack dab in the middle of the desert.

But there's a sucker born every minute.

 I thought I was buying 40 acres and a mule in Vegas. I was ready to settle down with palm trees, drinks with umbrellas and a slinky dame on my arm feeding my olives and fanning me with feathers.

Instead, I wound up in this sand trap and this rundown bar filled with all sorts of Green Street hooligans. Apparently some guy Barry  knows them all and I'm gonna have to figure out a way to get him in here so he can calm them all down. Apparently, he's their leader.

I mean, there's only so many times I can un-tilt my pinball machine...

~ By Anthony Venutolo

 Harbingering . . . Barry J. Northern's mystical desert finale

 ~  CHASING THE WIND  ~

THE BIG "O" IN OASIS

 There may have seemed a desert between them as years went by, but across a crowded room on an unexpected Thursday evening, heat still shimmered the way a hovering glaze does above surfaces deemed too hot to touch. He was the one that got away. She knew that, and it bothered her in a place too hard to comfortably scratch beneath a green silk sheath. It bothered her that he'd been the only one to do the walk-out first, to grab his hat from its hook, whistle his happy tune and let the screen door screech a sound effect in the night they'd used to be fond of ~ well, when they were together, when they were the big One.

And here he was, just another badge in a sea of Desert Inn conference attendees until that quirk above his left eye let on that game was on. Comeback time. Her time. Not a chance of a clean getaway tonight. She led off with feigned indifference. When he glided testosterone towards her, shifted his weight, struck his stance, she let her eyes linger over his "HELLO MY NAME IS". That got to him - she caught the old twitch at the side of his now fizzled grin. Her fingertip threw a curve, rounded first base in a side trip up the corner of his mouth, tracing lips, slower than slow motion shows a desert classic cameo so you know you're not seeing a mirage. She was no mirage. She held her ground with level challenge until she became the most integral part of that grin. He gripped her elbow. She drawled, "Is it really you Alfredo? Why where have you been all these years?"

He always held charismatic on center stage or pitcher's mound and took full count of her grandstanding. Halfway through his snazzy monologue on farm teams to the majors, four seamers with spin, and velocity records broken like a heart with no trajectory, she stifled a yawn. He caught its strike coming just across the corner of his zone and elicited a slider pitch which still had heat, "You wanta blow this joint Sweetness? Put something up on the scoreboard?"

"Not hearing anything here I haven't before. Might as well."

"You're referring to me or the franchise conference?"

"What were you thinking Big Al? That you'd lost your touch to get under my skin?"

His thumb tendered a remembered tempo as it eroticized her wrist. They were in the cool night air now. Resorty deco. All the cabana props in place for tomorrow's desert classic sponsors'  shoot. His gaze burned a hole in the gauze of facade he saw until he sensed her edges raw. When he backed her up against a large plaster camel, she held her mirth tight but shook her strap loose -- one glitzy strap of green silk sliding askance along cleavage's way. He knew that trail. He liked that trail that way. He answered her askance, pulled her towards a maroon striped cabana.

"Wait -- scene change?" Green glitz on the unzip. One liquid move and she became the cool temptation an oasis holds in legendary promise and quench. He met her under water offer and she held him there. And she held him there. Her head lifted twice for air, but she held him there.

~ By Absolutely*Kate

 Harbingering  . . . Barry J. Northern's mystical desert finale

 ~  CHASING THE WIND  ~

ETERNAL LOVE

The infinite sands of time blanketed the desert like an eternal shifting beige sea. Though the sun daily caressed the sand it was the starry night that the desert loved. 

~ By Matthew Magda,

 Harbingering . . . Barry J. Northern's mystical desert finale

 ~  CHASING THE WIND  ~

 

THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER ~ By Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford of Harbinger*33

THE PRINTS
AND

THE POPPER

BY
~ Absolutely*Kate

AND 
Harry B. Sanderford

with Matt Magda plot turns

By all appearances, Eddie led a quiet life. He attended Mathews High School where he was junior class treasurer. He dated Mary Lou Jennings and had a special spot to park his car at McDonald's when the gang went out for quarter-pounders, fries and chocolate shakes after basketball games. He liked how it angled them into the shadows where Mary Lou's hand lingered in his. He worked after school on Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekend matinees AT THE BIJOU. Like I said, by all appearances, Eddie led a quiet typical teenage life.

Eddie was excited about going to work on this particular Tuesday because just yesterday his Super Spy Private Eye Finger-Printing Kit had finally arrived in the mail. He’d ordered it from the back of his Super Spy Private Eye magazine and he aimed to put it right to use. Chief among his duties AT THE BIJOU were: popping the popcorn, making sure the butter flavoring and nacho cheese dispensers were topped off, and that the napkin dispensers were never empty. Folks' fingers get good and greasy grubbing on a BIJOU Double-Feature Bucket.

On this particular Tuesday, fate was twisting a churn into Eddie's good news day. He'd hurried through the poppin' and had it all fluffy light and flyin' high the way Ms Kate had explained Ms Carrie favoured it. And God and the local Phantom knows Ms Carrie was the biggest popcorn clutching customer AT THE BIJOU ever did see. He liked her. She always tipped him an extra buck, leaned in and shared him somethin' scary about how she knew what she knew and then whispered, "Listen Popper, don't tell our Ms Kate I told you that. She likes a world where bad guys don't kill everyone off." How he laughed at that. Ms Carrie sure knew Ms Kate alright. So with a grin on his face and his duties easily covered all over the place, Eddie slid comfortably into the seat in the back red velvet row he favoured when bringin' Mary Lou around. More smoochability, y'know. 

With an anticipatory sigh, Eddie slid this month's issue of  Super Spy Private Eye from his hip pocket, smoothing it flat. Ms Kate said he could do what he wanted 'round the BIJOU when what he had to take care of was taken care of,  just so long as he kept a watchful eye on things. She trusted him that way, and guldurn if he'd ever let her down. Now though, he wanted to go over the directions one more time on how to shake and spread powder from his Super Private Eye Finger-Printing Kit, tucked safe on the top shelf back in his locker in the staff room. The handy-dandy silver magnifying glass, in his other Wrangler pocket was waiting steady for Eddy to finally use it, and boy oh boy was he itchin' to do just that. Impress Mary Lou too with his deducing ways to figure a situation out.

While he was hunched over page 33, he could tell without much deducing powers at all that Ms Jeanette was waltzin' in to the theatre. Eddie tipped his touseled mop of hair along with the appreciative twinkle young man eyes shall ever hold for a real lady's graceful glide. Hers was always to the 9th row where she enjoyed all the action of reviewing every show, telling whomever would listen that life was like innings and you had to let the full game play out to really know the score. Eddie figured Ms Jeanette always knew the score. And like most others, he was fond of her caring ways.

"How are you keeping your grades up Eddie? Mary Lou treating you nice and sweet?" 

He gave her usual quick wink a smug smile and a thumbs-up, remembering that thing his Mom said when sprayin' on perfume before a big dinner date with Dad. Even bein' a mom, she still knew how to let her eyelashes do their business and would say real soft when Dad came up behind her, "My Windsong will stay on your mind." Wonder if that's what Ms Jeanette had squirted all over herself. He could always tell when she was shifting seats, turning in her greets to other regulars AT THE BIJOU. It was a real pretty smell that went swell with how she laughed. All the other BIJOU folk liked that too.

THE SCREAM CUT THROUGH ALL HIS CAREFUL CONCENTRATION ~ more high-pitched than any movie sound could move around the surround-sound system that Mr Harry had set up to make folks' listening pleasure all the more jumpier. Mr Harry was like that too ~ always tryin' somethin' new out. Boy oh boy, man oh man, Eddie sure wished Mr Har was jawin' jokes in the staff room today, 'cause he woulda liked another sturdy feller handy to investigate the blood curdle of that freakin' sound. Yikes! Ms Jeanette was down front. He'd better jump into action and check things out!

The scream came from behind him so Eddie told Ms Jeanette to sit tight and sprinted  up the aisle for the lobby.  Bursting through the double doors he found Sugar scooping Milk Duds back into the box from the counter where they’d spilled.  “Are you alright Ms Sugar?”,  Eddie asked hoping to appear calm, something he never found easy to do around Ms Sugar. 

“Other than scattering a brand new box of my favorite candy all over I’m fine. What the heck was that?  Just about scared the pants right off me!”  The image this conjured was not helping Eddie with his outward calm.

"Well if it wasn't you, and it wasn't Jeanette..." the boy detective thought out loud.

“Are you alright is maybe a better question? Why you look like you’ve seen a ghost,”  Sugar was teasing but it hit them both at the same time. 

“The phantom of THE BIJOU!”  They aha-ed in unison.

Eddie bolted for the projection booth stairs. Sugar vaulted the candy counter and followed close behind. Eddie covered the red carpet two stairs at a time but Sugar was no slouch; he could feel her pretty close on his Nikes. Their gasp was collective. The greasy grisly scene on the floor  before them floored them. A body sprawled face down. A tub of buttery BIJOU popcorn adding spill to sprawl, already on the congeal. Eddie's hand jutting towards the contorted body of what looked like or was the new projectionist was stopped in mid-jut to Sparky Denton's blue denim sleeve by Sugar's  high pitch squeal.

"Don't you DARE touch Sparky, Eddie! Who knows what's happened here?! Call 911, c'mon hurry!"

Eddie whipped out his Droid as sexy Sugar's more motherly side kicked into gear, body-blocking his view, swift-glancing for a discernible clue, steering the boy clear of what appeared to be death by popcorn. The low hum of the projector accompanied the still rolling film, a 1945 rare noir cut of Detour, which Jeanette had requested before the regular crowds rolled in for Tuesday's packed-house Double*Feature. Long'ago heart-throb actor Tom Neal playing nightclub pianist Al Roberts let loose his cynical worldview snipe: "That's life. Whichever way you turn, fate sticks out a foot to trip you."

"Yep, Al, someone sure took a face-smack here", Sugar mumble-quipped back while her mind sizzled in fast-forward mode -- determining the most logical way to proceed, keep Eddie calm and both of them safe.

Eddie's thoughts, now that the dispatcher had assured him help was speeding on its way, were turning over the most logical way to proceed, to keep Ms Sugar calm and both of them safe. He couldn't suppress the grin though when Sugar couldn't suppress her habit to mimic movie stars. In perfect Ann Savage pitch, with hand to hip, she became Vera the hitchhiker: "Life's like a ball game. You gotta take a swing at whatever comes along before you wake up and find it's the ninth inning."

"THE 9th INNING! THE 9th ROW! JEANETTE!!", their thinking and their hepped-up voices aha'd unison once again, before Eddie's magnifier had a chance of a glance to hone in on the suspicious spittle around the sparkless Sparky to confirm his guess that suspicious could be malicious . . . The deducing duo were off on a tear down the stairs once again. Sirens were heard and sounding closer, but their heads and hearts were headed in another direction away from the main doors, back to the theatre. 

Police, fire and paramedics poured through the front doors as Sugar and Eddie hit the bottom stair. Eddie pointed back up to the projection room shouting, “It’s Sparky, he’s up there!”, without breaking his stride. Sugar hit the double doors first and Eddie was through before they could swing shut behind her. In the ninth row Eddie picked up Ms Jeanette’s Mead Square-Deal journal from the seat with her favorite blue Montblanc Starwalker still clipped to the cover. A single drop of indigo fell from the pen and landing squarely on the armrest, mingled with the drops of crimson already there. Ms Jeanette was nowhere to be found.

* C * L * I * F * F * H * A * N * G * E * R * !

* AT THE BIJOU * 

Please return to next Saturday's Matinee

for the next gut-gripping epic'sode!

" The Prints and The Popper "

* SINGLE SPOTLIGHT * ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33

*
SINGLE SPOTLIGHT
*

  ALA ~ 
ABSOLUTELY*KATE

"You're On!"

"But I'm nervous -- I'm frightened -- I'm unsure ~ what if they hate me -- what if they don't get me -- what if I stumble or falter or trip or get caught up in --- ", was never fully stage-whispered out . . . since the swift sensation of HIS lips crushed her imagined calamity backstage, slamming a cymbalic crescendo of silence . . . damning all doubt. 

Crescendos center-staged while time stopped, the orchestra started out in the key of C, stagehands cleared imperative scratchy throats and memories played strong and long, mezzo forte ~ memories of last night, of last year, of decades hence, of sheets that twisted feelings no longer resisted, of eyes which blazed and sighs that enchanted where tantalizing touches languished on honeysuckled skin, and of secrets that tasted how Forever must taste (kinda butterscotchy), all surged further in, in, IN to the notable light which ignites the darkness of two morphing as one, so that all which is seen is the inner soul of its other, and who even knows where one began the beguine and the other refrained? 

When a kiss is not just a kiss but the peace, promise and persistence of being where you've been and going where you're going and knowing without showing that a far greater presence permeates mere day-to-day to all possibilities having their potential sway . . . that's when you hear, loud and clear, past the rising roar of any audienced cheer, "I believe in you." 

BUT THE SHOW MUST GO ON . . . and with a hustled rush and rustle to her shimmering silks, she was push-glided through the imperceptible slit where velvet curtains give way to wonders of a wide waiting world . . . where her step did not falter, her smile did not waver (though her lipstick was clearly smeared), where her tone did not tip or tumult as she and the glisten of trademark sequins found their mark, confident out of shadowed darkness to the circle glow of an ongoing single spot and there ~ octogenarian Genevieve Grace accepted her lifetime achievement award,  simultaneously marveling how synergy and symbolism attunes . . . as she belted out her tune, to the proud packed house in hometown Peoria: 
 

"Oh my man . . . 

I love him so . . .

he'll never know . . ."

Oh, but he  . . . did. 

(c) 2010 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate

Absolutely*Kate believes in believers and all the powers which love projects . . . and protects. She's proud to call AT THE BIJOU a hearty well-lit home to welcome in wit, grand talent and spirit. Kate's currently navigating reader'ship seas with HARBINGER*33, heralding 33 authors' greatness . . . in furthering destinies. Four more books are in the harbour and the horizon holds no limits. Naturally, she wishes you "Fair Winds, Favourable Seas . . . and Happy Lovin' Valentines' Day!"

The sentiments of

this 'peace'

  are dedi*kated

to the one I love,

to Prof/Matt ...

~ from 

Kate/Katrina,

absolutely 

"Love, Joy, Peace" ~ from Kate & Matt of Harbinger*33

"LOVE is the strongest force 

the world possesses,

and yet,

it is the humblest

imaginable."

~ Mohandas K Gandhi

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Historically, the design of our good wishes

are for the "real traditions" 

of abounding Love, Joy and Peace

to harbinger in your great 2010

~ Absolute*Blessings,

~ Kate and Matt

Photo by Tina Gale after Yale

on Jamestown Island, by the sea,

by the sea, by the beautiful sea