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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!

Why Should I Die? Chapter 2

   “If you haven't already, please everyone start your cerebral temporal lobe recorders,” Van Hause commands. “You are all going to enjoy what I have to say today.”

    The usual moans and groans come from the group of members who can't wait for the C.E.O. to die. Silence is heard, if it could be heard, from the neutral group of Trustees. While the rest, clear of their throat with barely an audible sound of, “a little respect,” rounds out the noise from the members who always suck up to the Chairman each time one of these in person meetings are called.

    The most agitated member, Charles Paley asks, “Why couldn't a Mental Vision Meeting be called instead of this indignation of us being dragged here out of our serenity of privacy? Doesn't the law clearly state, no more human contact between the surviving ruling class? Are we not in danger, of pathogens, viruses, and even germ infection? Do you not care.....

    “Enough!” Bellows the Chairman. “Before I have you disassembled before us all by nanobots!”

   “Sir, that is illegal,” interjects Peter quickly, while rising to his feet. “I'm sure Mr. Paley must be tired and his mind has not yet focused.”

Quietly, Peter adds, “Please continue Mister Chairman, we are all very concerned about being called to a meeting so abruptly. Is there such a crises in the World that this Corporation could be in jeopardy?”

   The one hundred eighty-eight year old C.E.O. and Chairman of the Board still sat there fuming, thinking. Cooling off slowly. After all he has done in his life, good or bad, he still can't control the thoughts and voices of his distractors. But he will have the last laugh on these genetically orphaned born fools. Yes he will.

   He knows what every person here wants from him. He can see it in their faces. He can hear it in the words they use. He can hear the rumors they spread. He can hear them whisper!

   Throughout History, no group of individuals will whisper quietly enough that no one will hear their words. To be overheard is why you whisper, or you would have said nothing at all.

   Jo knows they are all planning, scheming behind his back with every waking moment to be his successor. Only his friend Peter shows no sign of a power play for his throne!

   “Sorry my friend. If you truly knew how these gentlemen and gentlewomen thought of me behind my back in the darkness of their own thoughts, you might be inclined to protect yourself better if my reign stumbles here and falls to the wayside!”

   Peter stands again astonished! “Sir, I am sure you are only guessing at what is thought of you when someone speaks your great name when they are not in your presence. I'm sure you do not give credence to any such rumors of illegal nano-intelligence against the Royal Families!”

   Smirks outline the fattened lips of most Trustees, while turned up crows feet appear along the happier eyes of the group. They almost think in unison. “This could be it!”

   Board Members frantically start mentally clicking their individual brain implanted computing lawyers. Hoping to gather enough evidence, confession, and probable cause to take down the old man for good.

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