The Battle of Maladroit in 1066

On the Plains of Maladroit, in the year 1066, two armies of the night and day, clashed. One won, one lost, and life on Harm was never the same. (Correction: The two opposing armies were bolstered by myriad subarmies: paramilitary tribes and militias loosely organized and even more loosely controlled. In effect, every man, woman, and child on Harm was either conscripted or forced to align with one side or the other. No escaping allegiances, imposed or chosen.)

It comes as no surprise to know that neither side — in fact, no two Harmian individuals — can agree on the battle’s causes, either proximate or remote. Theories abound: which letters to keep in the alphabet; how to pronounce disputed diphthongs, syllables, or words; how to define love, hate, or chartreuse; when to speak or keep silent; how to kiss; how to kill; what to eat; the best method for boiling water; optimal positions for procreation; opposing views on sleep hygiene; disagreement on the need for clothing; disputes over child-rearing; origin narratives; questions on the value of iambic pentameter; opposing views on evangelism (scientific or religious); the propriety of the Designated Hitter role in military strategy; fissures on the practical effect of human sacrifice as sport; debate over chess openings; et cetera.
In real-life quotidian terms, what difference does it make whether either side or all sides, one individual or some individuals, reach consensus on the causes of this seminal conflict? Would it erase present-day conflict on Harm? Would it usher in a Pax Romana (a Pax Harmana or Pax Harmonica, if you will)?

Doubtful.

Owing to the findings of forensic archaeopsychohistorians over the course of Harmian centuries, we can agree upon and consequently itemize these indisputable impacts arising from the Battle of Maladroit in 1066:

• Those in the North embraced and spoke with the long A; those in the South, the short A.

• The umlaut, in sound and symbol, perished.

• Boiling olive oil was no longer used as a foreplay lotion.

• All those in the West insisted on left-handedness under penalty of execution; right-handedness in the East.

• On December 18, every Harmian — North, South, West, East — observes a full 24 hours of silence.

• On every quadri-annual February 29, a 24-hour period of compulsory sexual activity is prescribed, under penalty of death (unless, of course, such activity results in terminal exhaustion or fatal dehydration).

• Wearing, mentioning, referring to, spelling, painting, videotaping, recording, or photographing the color chartreuse is prohibited under penalty of life imprisonment (in a chartreuse cell). 

• Every written sentence must end with a preposition, or the word "preposition."
  

• The Great Migration began, though no consensus exists as to who the migrants were or are, or as to where they went or go.   

 

whose harm is it, anyway

What is harm anyway? There's the obvious nightmare catalog of war, insurrection, repression, torture, and unimaginable, and all-too-observable, endless permutations of physical, mental, social, etc violence, passive or active. And everything in between along a continuum of horror. There's that. There are also ever more subtle acts or omissions of harm, a seemingly infinite inventory of our inhumanity.

But what about the debates that people wage, even on Planet Harm?

Debates about blame, responsibility, history, cause and effect, will, evil, social structures, philosophies, religions, anarchies?

What about cloudy or murky (in the eyes of some) instances of alleged harm? (Mere mention of the word "alleged" sparks debate in some circles.)

The gesture of holding the door open for someone: is it gallant, condescending, ahistorical, sexist, ageist, arrogant, presumptuous, kind, or neutral?

And the rebuff of such a gesture: is that a shade of harm in the form of hues yet named?

The list goes on. The lists go on. (Whose lists?)

The look from one to another, anonymous or intimate: affection, objectification, lust, compassion, anguish, remorse, regret, rage, curiosity, sadness, charity, solidarity, sincerity, lovingkindness . . . ad infinitum.

The same with the written word, the spoken word. The same (multiplied exponentially) with words or parts of words or emojis transmitted by short message service, or SMS, which we all call "text."

The same with the word or words not said.

And then there's the harm of history, the stain and weight of ancient or recent sins, horrors we inherit, a heritage that can't be disappeared, that we cannot escape, even if by association and lineage. 

So, we on Planet Harm live and breathe all this; it's our atmosphere. Some of us plead acceptance; others pray for amnesia; yet others cry for conversion, a magical metanoia; many crave escape (and they find it but only in passing, momentarily).

We Harmlings are standing on a plank over a crevice. We dream of wings. 

We Harmlings push a rope that is slack from use.

The elders sang sagas of a deus ex machina, a dea ex machina, come to the rescue.

We lost the words but remember the melody.

What now?

Leave It to Beaver

A live beaver has been spotted in New York City, allegedly for the first time in about 200 years.

It was seen swimming in the Bronx River last week.

Of course, Times Square is not in the Bronx and has been all Disneyed up, but I'm pretty sure Forty-second Street and Eighth Avenue featured lots of live beaver in the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties. But memory is tricky and selective. I could be wrong. Maybe it was all trick photography, and smoke and mirrors.

"Hello! Is this microphone working?"

"Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentleman. I'll be here Thursday, Friday, Saturday."

"Can you hear me back there?"

"Hey, Louie, throw those hecklers out, will you!"