Part 19 The Holy Cow
The holy cows of the sun facing great plains that lie at the foot of
the cliffs of cold wander amongst other descendants of the kinship
and these others show some guided kindness in that
they only take the milk from the cows and not their flesh.

In far off fields where the sun shines poorly other factions struggle
with flesh. I say struggle as the spirit of kindness continually
presents the politics of friendship and kindness and methods to better
use the resources.

And in a distant land there lies a green hill, taller and wider than
any other. 'Tis full of people who work the surrounding valleys and
smaller hills, plains and rivers.

The understanding of how to use kindness has taken root as a
resource in the struggle to maintain the illusion of sustainability for
either the people must limit their growth or more must be consumed.

Whilst there are holy cows they can be milked, at least for some time
to come, so the poorly educated acknowledge. Yet what of the cows at
this point. Is it prudent to consider the same argument from their
perspective of should we at least talk as though we understand and care
about the poor people of two legs and a large brain.

It hardly matters but lets use the cows as we so often do for fear of
an intellectual backlash form the poor.

Now the cows have stood their muddy ground for many a season and as
long as they have plenty of fodder to consume they can abide the
extraction of their milk. Not all cows and more so many, if not
all the bulls are a little restless about this situation. They know
that resources are finite yet there seems to be more of them as the
patterns of seasons resolve.

People monitor the cows and extract any that may be argumentative,
where they go irrelevant for they are still a resource and can be found
some use, but the argument cannot be extracted from the kinship. And
lo and behold upon a spring day the cows, no doubt incited on by rouge
elements, who have no sense of kinship although they profess the coming
action is hell bent on kindness.

So the troops gather and plan a assault on the all consuming man devils.
True they live on the high hill and success is not assured. If only we
could show they we are not going to take there abuse and exploitation
any longer, that will will resist and fight for our own ground. Its not
like we want to kill the evil people on the hill, although their are
those amongst use that argue we may as well. after all they use
resources we could have and can never be trusted. However the majority
of cows have lived a rather laid back and non interfering lifestyle, for
then passive resistance and holding the ground seem a better place to
stand. It is not unthinkable that an attack has to be made, not
to destroy the enemy but to say that we can fight if we have to. And so
whilst the majority of workers maintain their grace and mull over the
fields on which they oft lay a substantial legion is formed to breach
the fencing. Given the relevant sizes of the diverse factions the %%%%
cows and bulls have argued that we should at least take back a few
fields that we use to browse in.

And so the day begins afresh with the sound of horns and trumpets. The
trashing of the grass, and the trampling of the earth onward to
the flailing of men's perimeter fences. The onslaught of cows was not
forseen or imagined by anyone except a few mad and self flagilating
vegans, but it happened. Maybe this is the first, rarer than raining
cats and dogs; I mean real cats and real dogs. Not sand from the Sahara
or frogs from France. Am I dreaming frogs from France, sand from the
Sahara and dogs from Denmark. I have no idea where the cats come from
but the cows, well Cornwall maybe; and the cats maybe too.

Still the cows, those that survived the repulse, managed to limp back to
the placid fields. Man was too outraged as what could cows possibly to
confronted by our might. Yet the cows didn't just sit down and wait for
the rain and again they tried to stampead there way to freedom throwing
all types of manure at their enemy.

The army of men drew a ring of water around their holy land and called
themselves an island cut of from the common cow. Now many seasons had
passed whenceupon a insistant bull threw down the gauntlet. He explained
that even the river was crossable. On the first attempt many drowned
and were washed away, and the people laughed to see such fun. But the
brighter or more colourful bullshitters brought forward the idea of
sacrifice in that those that died would be rewarded in some after life
and to say that if enough cows filled the river others could walk across
their dead bodies. And so it came to pass that there are valleys full of
cows and rivers full of blood in the never ending war of kindred
factions.

Yet to the mighty this is but a trifle, a wisp in the wind of thought.
Autumn comes again and all sources fail. Sleep may seem like a break
from the strife, but being awake to the continuing consumption requires
trivialising the kinship. Kindness is the tool of trivialisation.
Charity argues that to give cows better grass id too improve their
plot, but we know that it makes for better milk. So charity is
complicit with inequality. What can I share that truly belongs to me.
Well nothing for no resource is dedicated for my destruction or
consumption.

Yet my story I can tell. It has a resource, but I am arguable more of a
resource for me than you are for me or I for you.

Now the cows have been listening to this tale wondering what may pass
their way. They are undoubtedly maintained for their milk. Without such
a use or being such a valuable resource their existence would fade. If
they could reach the castle what better resouces would they have
than the plush fields sown by superior man? Would they now want more and become
fractitious.

Now back on the hill the people are also listen to their story and
wonder if cows could be released from exploitation. Well they concept
exists but what would happened to the cows. Would man feed their grass?
unlikely.Would most of them die? probably. but death is OK it's just
that not so many will be born. But man will turn the fields to
factories that turn sunlight into flesh and one day looking upon the
bright sun it comes to mind that the sun does not shine equally on all
and so the competition for sunshine space degrades the kinship even
further. For no longer are we all equal and need not of kinship but
the tie of kin is all to earthly whilst we look to the sky ad the sun
for our resources.

It is early days in our solar exploitation but already there are plans
to mine the Moon and Mars.yet Jupiter will bring no joy nor Saturn
satiate our desire for we equate conciousness with mortality, mortality
with death with destruction and destruction with resources. Seeking a
new resource is adding to mortality. Life immortality must have an
energy that is not a resource. Life needs only space unbounded to grow
not a firmament or filament of light. Death is fragile and death must come to an
end as that which kills must stop and death becomes a fragment of
story. So the story is told to educated those who will the killing and
for those that will live.

There is no action that can be taken to free the cows none to better
feed the mind. Education is the accomplice of kindness that deludes to
a better consumption of the facts. But even the best of facts distort
the truth, for their is no truth or better said, the truth is nothing.
Adding to that void wherein we are, that light that wouldst be a star,
the quantum part always here, always far

Pages: 1· 2