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Hello my fellow Politiores Troglodytes. This Blog is a collection of Posts, Poems, & Short Stories that I write on a daily basis. If you find it entertaining, informative, and controversial, then I have done my job properly. Thank goodness too, because Karma has been on my case of late. I'm supposed to bring fifty people into the fold or I'll have to give back the part of Einstein's brain I inherited. No, I'm not one of the Scientists who got a piece of his brain when he died. Karma said, "Eat this knowledge. It'll make you smarter!" The bargain I made with Karma was, if I could change fifty people into Politiores Populos, I would be rewarded with my very own Lamborghini. So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Like what you're reading, then read on. P.S. Populo is Latin for people. Politiores is Latin for educated. Troglodytes is English for troglodytes. And Einstein's brain was stolen by Thomas Stoltz Harvey after his death in 1955 and eventually divvied up into 240 pieces. If you just read that last sentence, then you have just learned something and I'm just that much closer to fulfilling my commitment to Karma!

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Blind Man

  “OK, Mister Georgopoulos. Explain why you would ask a perpetrator of a home invasion to blind you?”
   I can hear the disbelief in Detective Callaghan’s voice. I don’t need eyes to imagine the disgust he has for me right now. He has lived his whole life with the ability to see.
   Me? I was born with Congenital Glaucoma right off the bat. By the time any doctor with enough brains figured out what I had, it was too late. I was blind by the age of three, never being able to tell anyone what was happening to me.
   I spent my childhood, teen, and young adult years blind as a bat, as the saying goes. My other senses became more acute and stronger. I don’t need vision to know this New York dick isn’t going to do me any favors by apprehending my assailant. He probably figures, if I would let someone blind me, I should be in Black’s Sanitarium in Brooklyn instead of here, at the Coney Island Hospital.
   “I lived my whole life in Brooklyn. I always imagined a clean, happy environment around me. People, the ones I know by voice, have always treated me with compassion and respect. I could walk to the bus stop, take a ride to the grocery store, make it back home, and nobody bothered me. Most people helped me. Not until I had the surgery to regain my vision, over one year ago, did I see the filth, prostitution, drug dealers, crime, and apathy so rampant in the city I loved. I hate what this city has become in my eyes.”
   “Mister Georgopoulos, enough with the narrative. Can you give me any description of the perp who did this to you?”
   I knew it. The detective isn’t going to try to understand my point of view. He wants my statement, nothing more.
   “I’m sorry. You can’t give a recently injured, blind man a little time and sympathy, while I go over the events in my mind? Putting everything in chronological order and understanding what an insane world we really live in?”
   “Mister Georgopoulos, you ain’t the only nut case I have to deal with on a daily basis. This is New York city. People all over the world come here to get their masochistic flavors on. I don’t care what your bag is here sir. All I want to do is catch this guy who broke into your home, stole your valuables, and, who you say, blinded you. OK?”
   “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get, what I saw of this World, with people like you in it. I must have been out of my mind to want to see. It’s like eating a rancid piece of meat. You know you never want to do that again, but the experience will never leave you.”
   “One last time. Mister Georgopoulos. Can you please describe the person who broke into your house for me or not? If you can’t, I’m done here.”
   “I’ll tell you what happened. Maybe, after going through the events of the burglary, I’ll be able to remember how my assailant looked.”
   “Good enough, let’s hear it.”
   “Like I said, I’ve been blind since the age of three. Growing up, all I could do was imagine a big beautiful world out there. I knew about crime, prejudice, drugs, but I must have been lucky enough to be sheltered away from all those things, believing they were somewhere else, not right next to me in everyday life. So, when the technology made it possible and the surgical procedure became commonplace, I, too, wanted to see what I had been missing all of these years. I wanted to see the world, not imagine it. After the surgery, my ex-wife, who is also blind, left me because she said I became angry. Impossible to live with. I became disenchanted with life. She told me, ‘When you stop seeing evil in everything you look at, call me.’ So when that street gangster broke into my house, tied me up on one of my own kitchen chairs, and said he had to kill me before he left so I couldn’t identify him, I had an idea. I told him, ‘What if I were blind?’ I couldn’t identify him then, now could I?”
   “Are you trying to have me believe you had the perp blind you so you couldn’t identify him, Mister Georgopoulos?”
   “No! Don’t you understand? I made a deal with him to save my life! If I’m blind, I can’t pick him out of a lineup. I can’t tell a jury of my peers, ‘That’s him. That’s the man who broke into my home.”
   “Mister Georgopoulos. I know for a fact that people who are blind have other senses that are much improved. You could pick him out of the lineup by his voice then?”
   “No, even if you caught the right guy, what about his family, or other gang members. They know where I live. They know I am blind now. What’s to stop them from taking revenge on me? You? Are you going to be there for me, to protect me? I made a deal. I’m alive. Maybe, just maybe, my wife will have me back now.”
   “Mister Georgopoulos...
   “No Detective. I think we are done here. I lost my heightened senses when I became able to see the darkness of mankind.”
   “OK, Georgopoulos. I don’t need your testimony anyways. Who is going to believe a crazy, middle-aged, blind man anyhow? You can’t even tell me what I am doing right now.”
   “Detective. I know you are heading towards the door to my room by your footfalls. I can tell by the smell of powdered sugar, probably from donuts, on your right hand, that you're raising that hand towards me. I assume to give me the finger. I would also suggest to you, if you ever want to get a date again with a woman, that you should shower and use deodorant. Splashing Old Spice cologne all over yourself and your clothes doesn’t hide the fact that you stink. Now you just stink in more than one way.”
   “You-son-of-a…"
   “I must ask you to leave detective. I smell the distinct fragrance of Chloe’s Eau de Parfum, and the tapping of a blind person’s white cane in front of her. Hopefully, by the grace of God, I can only pray it is my ex coming to see me. Excuse the pun. And I don’t need you around to spoil it for me. Good day, sir.”
   With that, I prepared myself to see the woman I love more than life itself.

This is,
I Dreamt This Story Last Night,
But I Am Not Sure If It Has A Happy Ending
Or Not?
Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“If love is blind, then maybe a blind person that loves has a greater understanding of it.”
- Criss Jami, -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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Be kind to everyone
 
I'll be seeing you

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