Heaven and Earth (the book)

“As proud Southerners, we don’t take kindly to being told by Yankees what we are doing wrong. It might be the wrongest of the wrong, but we prefer that you didn’t correct us. Don’t come down here and think you know what’s going on. Heck, even we don’t know what’s going on here half the time.” --from "The Squirrels of Sypsamulga"

A collection of mostly humorous short stories 
about the American South

[The wedding has started and two cows have died from being poisoned outside the church hall, which has been decorated for the wedding reception. Sam and Arliss have to figure out how to get rid of the dead cows. They decide to gut ‘em and cut ‘em to make them easier to remove, but a pocketknife is too small…]

      “It’s going to take forever to do this with a pocketknife, Arliss.”
      “Don’t Cousin Silas have one of them little chainsaws in his pick-up truck they use to cut branches off trees? I bet it’d slice right through that meat.”
      “He does but won’t a chainsaw, even a little one, be too noisy?”
Arliss thought for a second and said, “Well, I’m not that smart but I think that if the cow’s gutted and bled then we could pull him into the church hall to cut him up with it. I think that’d muffle the sound. They ain’t that noisy anyways. They’d never hear it with the doors shut way up there in the church sanctuary.”
      “Arliss, you’re brilliant. Now run go get that saw out of Silas’ truck!”
      Sam started to pull the gutted carcass up the steps of church hall. Arliss pulled up his pants and ran up the hill to the church parking lot. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve and smiled to himself because he was so brilliant.

---Excerpt from the story “Luther and Wynelle’s Wedding” from “Heaven and Earth”

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ISBN: 9781500599027

The Alien History of Earth: Novaterra

Some people believe aliens exist. 

History knows they do - 

and you'll never believe who they are. 

 Ty and Ash Edwards, twins recovering from a family tragedy, are taken to live with a distant family member. An adventure beyond belief begins –and they discover that their lives are more complicated than they could ever imagine.

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• ISBN-10: 1503356787
• ISBN-13: 978-1503356788

"Sour Cream Apple Cake"

     

       In the South, family transcends everything else – it is the structure of the South.  It is the foundation of everything. There is also the Southern trinity of religion, football and food – you can decide for yourself the order of things; but that trinity still comes second to family.  Families start churches. Food is ever-present at family get-togethers and reunions.  Families and familial football teams define communities.  Families spread over miles have a closer relationship than neighbors right next door (although may times in the South, your neighbors are your family). But indeed foundations can also break. 

Apple blossoms

       Family relationships in the South can die easily when it comes to one of its greatest poisons -- money.  Many fights over wills, or lack thereof, of a loved one have broken many a Southern family.  Greed and misunderstandings coupled with money or the vision of money are some of the greatest poisons within Southern families.  A family dynasty of a hundred years can be undone over the slightest with a drop of one of these poisons.  It doesn’t take much to facilitate the first bit to be dropped.  Something as even as simple as a valuable, prize-winning recipe can be the catalyst.

      

       The recipe for Sour Cream Apple Cake has never really been publicly known.  Guesses have been made for decades as to the ingredients and it continues to be the topic of many a gossip session.  Most people understand that whatever the recipe, the same basic ingredients are used.  Everyone knows there are apples and sour cream in it, as well as the usual cake ingredients like flour and sugar.  However, every year, many people still hear discussions and arguments on the specifics used. What kind of spices? What type of flour? Fresh apples or not? Some have heard less controversy over sections of the Holy Bible Itself than the recipe of Sour Cream Apple Cake.  But as long as the Edwards sisters live, they have vowed the original recipe would remain mysterious.  They eventually released “simple’ versions of the recipe during interviews, but the original “from-scratch” recipe remains a secret.

       Mattie Sue Edwards was the first person in Chester County to cook Sour Cream Apple Cake.  The tale Miss Mattie would tell was that the recipe for the cake came from her encounter with the cook of a famous Southern household in Georgia on a visit to a Piggly Wiggly.  The recipe had been written in barely legible handwriting on butcher paper, according to Miss Mattie, and was unceremoniously destroyed on one frosty Southern morning as she was trying to light the pilot light to bake the famous cake – how poetic!  She never wrote it down again.  Some say she didn’t want the recipe to fall into the wrong hands, as the cake went on to win countless awards and ribbons for Miss Mattie. As the years passed, she would repeat from memory the recipe to her granddaughters who themselves would also win countless baking competitions with the recipe.

       There has never been such devotion for food as the devotion of rival sisters Mildred Edwards Davis and Martha Edwards Phillips toward their grandmother’s Sour Cream Apple Cake. Ever since their paternal grandmother Mattie Sue Edwards passed, the two sisters have been fighting.  And it’s usually about Sour Cream Apple Cake, or at least that’s where it begins.

Mildred (Milly) Sue Edwards Davis

 Mildred Edwards Davis’ Original Sour Cream Apple Cake

1 stick oleomargarine

1 (18 ½ oz.) yellow cake mix (Betty Crocker)

½ cup coconut

2-½ cup applesauce

1 cup Breakstone sour cream

½ cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1 egg, beaten

Cut oleo into cake mix, add coconut.  Put in an ungreased 13x9x2 inch pan and build up edges a little bit.  Bake 10 minutes in 350-degree oven.  Spread applesauce over top of warm crust.  Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon on top.  Mix beaten egg with sour cream and drizzle over applesauce and sugar.  Bake 20 to 25 minutes.

       “I think I was about six years old when Momma Sue first let me help her bake her famous apple cake.  I loved staring at all the awards and ribbons she kept in the kitchen on a high shelf up above the refrigerator.  She always kept her kitchen sparkling white, because according to her ‘the white walls made the blue ribbons sparkle’.  When cooking she’d always wear a blue apron on which was written ‘first-prize chef’ given to her by Papaw Sam.  I remember that I had a stool that I would stand on and watch every move she made.  I think that’s why my cake is so better than those trying to imitate, like that sister of mine.

        I’m trustin’ you to remember what it takes to make this cake.  I want you to be able to continue on after I go on to be with the Lord.  It’s all up to you, Milly Sue,’ she would say to me as she carefully added ingredients to her old gray mixing bowl.  I still use that old mixing bowl every time I make her cake.  It just adds that little bit of love to it, you know.  I promised her that I would, cross my heart, every time she told me that.  She’d always smile and touch my nose, leaving a little smear of batter. I’d reach up and wipe it off, then taste it. I still use a taste of batter to confirm I’m doing it right.  My sister all this time was running around looking in the cupboards or making some unruly noise.  She’d make Momma Sue stop and scold her.  Momma Sue would just shake her head every time a pan or spoon would hit the floor, she wouldn’t get a switch to her little bottom unless she heard china breakin’.  That gal never really listened to anything Momma Sue would say.  Many times I’d hear Momma Sue complaining about my sister under her breath.

       ‘I wish they’d send her to her Yankee grandmother,’ she’d say through almost clenched teeth.

       My sister had been named after our maternal grandmother who was from Kentucky.  Momma Sue considered every one north of Tennessee to be a Yankee and despised them.  She was never close to Mother, and Mother went out of her way to be argumentative with her.  Momma Sue said that Mother never lost her Yankee ideals or mannerisms.  I think Momma Sue thought it was her job to rid Mother of them, and that’s why she was so hard on Mother all the time.  I don’t ever remember a good word said between them.

       When Mother first got sick, we went to stay with Momma Sue.  I lived with her until I graduated high school.  I would go with her to competitions and events.  She’d always tell me how much she depended on me helping her – that I really helped her to win all her awards.  She’s always say that someday it would be up to me to keep up the winning streak, that’s the reason I do what I do.  We always had the best time during competition days.  It was sad when she got older and I had to go to them alone.

       That sister of mine, Molly, has come up with some kind of cake that she calls Sour Cream Apple Cake, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Momma Sue’s original recipe.  She’s always been like that, trying to outdo and to show-off.  She tells people that hers is the real Sour Cream Apple Cake; but I know for a fact that Momma Sue didn’t tell her the recipe.  She’s got this recipe using a boxed cake mix she copied from me.  I created it so busy folks could whip up an easy version of the cake; it was for an article in the local paper.  Then she comes along with her “version” of it a week later.  She tells folks that Momma Sue gave her the original recipe after I left home, but that’s a big lie.

       She’s won a few awards for what she calls the “original recipe”, but it has always been like a county fair or such.  She could never win a big-time award with it.  She did enter a big event one year – it was the year she came up to me hollerin’ and screamin’ about some craziness.  I don’t even remember much about it anymore.  I did see her talking to the judges afterwards, probably trying to tell them I cheated.  She was always trying to pull something like that over me.

       When Momma Sue got sick right before she died, Molly called and said she couldn’t come home for some reason.  Me and my husband ended up have to take care of Momma Sue all by ourselves.  Molly finally came home, but Momma Sue died a few days later.  She was absolutely on help and then she tried to steal everything not nailed down. After the funeral, all my sister wanted to do was to clean out the house and get away as fast as she could with as much as she could.  She wanted everything in Momma Sue’s kitchen and her cookbooks, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.  Haven’t talked to her much since that fiasco.”

Martha (Molly) Ann Edwards Phillips

Martha Edwards Phillips’ Heirloom Sour Cream Apple Cake

1 stick oleomargarine

½ cup sugar

1 egg, beaten

1 No.2 can applesauce

1 pkg. yellow cake mix (Duncan Hines)

1 tsp. Cinnamon

1-cup sour cream

½ cup Angel Flake coconut

Cut oleo into cake mix.  Add coconut.  Put in ungreased 13x9x2 inch pan, building up edges a little.  Bake 10 minutes in a 350-degree oven.  Take out of oven and add applesauce over the top of the warm crust and sprinkle sugar and cinnamon on top of this.  Mix beaten egg with sour cream and drizzle over applesauce and sugar.  Bake 20 to 25 minutes more.  Do not overbake.

       “When Mom passed on, I remember us going to live with Momma Sue.  I think I was about four years old.  I definitely remember her baking and the smells from her cooking was a comfort to me.  Smelling something baking still relaxes and calms me.  When my sister Milly was at school and before I started going, Momma Sue and I would make cookies or gingerbread.  We didn’t make much and would end up eating most of it before Milly got home. 

       I loved those days in the kitchen with Momma Sue.  I think it helped me deal with Mom’s death when I was so little.  I was always rambunctious as a child and couldn’t sit still for long; but when I was in the kitchen with Momma alone, I was settled and very quiet.  I listened to every word she would say.  I can still hear her calm melodious voice talking to me when I get anxious nowadays.  She told me my first teachers marveled on how well I paid attention once I settled down.  I think it comes from my time with Momma Sue in the kitchen.    

       Momma Sue would mix everything up in that old blue enameled bowl that she said Mom gave to her one Christmas.  I still use that old bowl when I make the apple cake.  I feel it connects me to Mom and Momma Sue both.  My sister was going to sell it at the estate sale and was determined to not let me have it.  It meant nothing to her but she was bound and determined not to let me have it.  She was that way with a lot of Momma Sue’s things, acting as if it all belonged to her after Momma Sue passed.  What she couldn’t use, she tried to sell for cash.  The only things I have that belonged to our mother are a little charm bracelet and a jeweled flower pin because my sister kept or sold everything else.  But I do have the memories of what Momma Sue told me about our mother.  My sister would never listen when Momma Sue would talk about Mom.

       Momma Sue told me that Mom wasn’t a very strong person and that she was always doing exactly what her mother wanted to do.  This caused all kinds of friction especially since Mom’s mother lived hundreds of miles away in Kentucky and didn’t always know what was going on.  Our maternal grandmother never wanted us kids to visit her alone.  Momma Sue always said she wished we could go stay with our maternal grandmother and allow her to have the same chance to enjoy us as much as she herself did.  But I think Momma Sue knew that that would never happen.  I really loved being around Momma Sue and learning everything she could teach me.

       When we went to live with Momma Sue full-time after Mom passed, my sister, Milly, started to spend more time in activities like the Girl Scouts and other clubs.  I myself preferred to just stay with Momma Sue helping with chores and cooking.  I learned so much during that time and believe it is why I choose to go into a career that dealt with food.

       I remember my sister always entering all kinds of baking contests and generally winning many of them.  We both entered a baking contest once.  The other contestants started telling me that my sister was talking it up that I sometimes cheated. I had the judges approach and question me about it.  Milly had written a grievance to them about me stealing her recipe and she wanted me barred from the competition.  After a long talk with all the judges, they let me stay.  As soon as I left them I went straight to my sister and gave her a piece of my mind.  I stayed pretty calm and collected, but I told her a thing or two.  Yes, I pitched a fit.  She couldn’t stand that I was there, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of leaving or dropping out.  She ended up winning, but one of the judges had a talk to me before I left after the competition. Her name was Eleanor Beardesley and she said that I showed a real talent and the judgment had nothing to do with my sister’s grievance or the rumors.  She even gave me contact information of one of her friends who was a food editor at a regional newspaper.  She said I had great poise and professionalism throughout all that had transpired doing the event.

       Momma Sue got sick just as I was starting my first job as a food editor.  I talked to her when she first started to get sick and she told me that whatever happened, she wanted me to put my nose to the grindstone and not worry about her.  She said that I had her dream job.  She told me that Milly and Jack were taking good care of her and I didn’t need to worry.  At the first opportunity though I did go back home and spent some time with Mommas Sue.  I didn’t have much time with her before she passed.  She wasn’t able to really eat much but she’d want to talk about recipes and dishes featured in the different articles I had worked on.  She wanted to know about food I’d eaten at different restaurants.  She was a “foodie” long before the word was invented!

       After the funeral, I wanted to just clean up and get on with life.  However, Milly fought me at every turn.  Momma Sue had always promised her cookbooks and recipes to me.  She had thought I’d get more use out of them.  I figured the fair thing would be to share them with my sister, but Milly wanted them all.  I think she hid several of the antique cookbooks even before the funeral, just to keep me from them. I finally made copies of most of the recipes I wanted and just let her have most of the cookbooks, but it still remains a contentious subject between us today.  It’s sad we fell out over all this.  I still haven’t really talked to her since.”

"Letter from Santa Claus" by Mark Twain

On Christmas morning of 1875, three-year-old Susie Clemens found this letter from "Santa Claus".  I'm guessing that her father Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) might have played "Santa's helper" that day. 

Palace of St. Nicholas.
In the Moon.
Christmas Morning.

My dear Susie Clemens:

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown peoples' alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no character but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well trained, nice mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there were some words which I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of kitchen furniture for dolls has just gone to a very poor little child in the North Star away up, in the cold country above the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: "Little Snow Flake," (for that is the child's name) "I'm glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I." That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn't hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage very heavy.

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which I couldn't be certain of. I took it to be "trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens," you must say "Good bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, 'I know somebody up there and like her, too.'" Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room-for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Goodbye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.

Your loving 

Santa Claus

Whom people sometimes call "The Man in the Moon"






(Source: Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children via www.lettersofnote.com )

"Palaeontology of Kronos (Qo'noS)" [Star Trek fanfic]

 The Star Trek Universe, Star Trek, and characters of Star Trek is owned by Paramount Pictures, a division of Viacom. All the copyrights belong to them. This work is for entertainment purposes only and is presented free of charge.

The PLANET

Kronos, or Qo’noS, ¹ is an M-class planet that orbits in the Klinzhai system² and is found at galactic coordinates (-321.5, 48.6, -87.9). It is the second planet of the system and is nearly one and a half times the size of Earth. Kronos is the only world in its five-planet system that is inherently capable of sustaining life, although ecological changes have made life more tenuous. On all other occupied planets in the system, Klingons have had to use large amounts of relatively sophisticated technology to live there. The surface of Kronos is a vast shallow ocean³ with a large single landmass.  On the landmass itself there are many small bodies of water scattered around it. The largest thirteen of these, the only ones that show up on a planetary map, are very salty. Kronos has a severely tilted axis that causes dramatic seasonal changes,  turbulent wind patterns and extremes of weather.⁴

Kronos is unique among M-class worlds in that it has very little botanical diversity. Geological information from Kronos suggests that the world was once rather lush and wet, but suffered due to a large asteroid, which altered the axial tilt of the planet. This asteroid is also thought to have caused enormous pressure in the planet’s interior, which led to disastrous earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Fossils found in the underground water pockets and in the lava rock show that a form of klingonoid existed before the time of the asteroid.  Apparently, damage caused by the asteroid changed the level of silicates in the surface of the planet, thus making it less adaptable for vegetation. This caused nearly every native species to evolve into a carnivorous form.

Because of the axial tilt to the planet and because of the high carbon dioxide layer (and the greenhouse effect that it creates) as well as the large surface area of the ocean, the weather tends to be very turbulent.  The ecological devastation of Praxis has also affected the ecology and climate of the planet.

DEVELOPMENT OF A SENTIENT RACE ON KRONOS

It has been considered that the Klingon people were ‘seeded’ on Kronos, possibly by a race called The Preservers, when the planet was lush. Some scientists have put this theory forth due to the chemical differentiations within the Klingon genome bearing no chemical resemblance to some of the rest of the life on the planet.  Since this theory is relatively new, most scientists concur that the Augment Virus of 2154 resulted in the chemical changes as well as genetic tampering by the Klingons themselves.  Nevertheless, the abundance of klingonoid-type beings within the Sagittarian region of space⁵, scientists use the taxonomical term Homo sagittari to refer to similar proto-klingon beings of Kronos⁶.

     The current physical state of the Klingon people is as it has been since long before the time of Kahless. However, the race ultimately developed from a quasi-mammalian creature with a very strong exoskeleton (Homo sagittari scutis), a design not unique to Kronos according to some researchers. The exoskeleton was composed of large, thick bone plates that almost completely overlapped. The H. sagittari scutis had a spinal ridge along the back and fore limbs, and possessed an opposable thumb. The H. sagittari scutis could squat on its hind legs to use the forelimbs to break, rip and hold. The hominid living in a harsh environment, developed redundant organs, possessing multiple versions of most important internal parts, such as lung, liver and kidneys; the heart had 8 chambers.

       The social behavior of H. sagittari scutis has recently been inferred by observation of the similar extant hominid native to the polar plateaus of Kronos -- Simia q’onoenis.  The H. sagittari scutis dominated the planet (fossils cover much of the planet) living in small family units (troops) lead by a dominant breeding female, the dominant male living outside the troop but in the same area. The males separated from the troop at about 6 years. At this age the male would seek out a mate from a different troop.

       Males that encountered another male without a troop would usually instigate a fight to the death. Ultimately the male would encounter an unrelated troop challenging the dominant male or taking a female away. Challenging a dominant male was a risky business and fights were always to the death. Once a troop was won in this way it was usually necessary to cull those that were a threat, most commonly the males near maturity and the dominant female. At times if two males of the same troop reached maturity at the same time they would leave together. In this rare circumstance, the two males would almost always seek out a large troop and defeat the dominant male, culling those that were a threat.  At times the dominant partner would become the dominant male and breed, the other male would assist in keeping the area free of other males. At other times the two males would split the troop and territory, then would either severe all ties or, quite commonly, to offer mutual defense to each other –forming a larger unit (clan).

     During times of famine the troops would be forced to move into territories claimed by other clans. Invariably this led to fights among groups. In most cases the older females and the males near maturity would assist the dominant male, as the threat was so serious the whole troop might die if the territory was lost. In these circumstances familial clans would unite and work together.⁷  This proto-klingon, after being a dominent species, quickly exits the fossil layer and is replaced by the heartier Homo sagittari osteodermis.

     Homo sagittari osteodermis appears after a planetary catasphrophe affected the planet of Kronos, dramatically changing the planetary surface into a much harsher environment.  Due to evidence found in the bones of H. sagittari scutis, famine seems to have occurred on a large planetary scale. The times of famine increased and slowly Homo sagittari scutis started to be replaced by Homo sagittari osteodermis. Although H. sagitarri osteodermis was slower in movement than H. sagittari scutis, he had the advantage of a stronger exosheleton and greater strength giving it the ability to bring down larger prey. This also meant that H. sagittari osteodermis’ troops, families and clans were more successful in times of conflict. 

     The hostile environment of Kronos that had necessitated the development of the exoskeleton slowly changed and in time the exoskeleton was slowly replaced by a stronger endoskeleton. Eventually the Klingon became a creature with several bony plates covering the vital areas of the body, such as chest, stomach and head. The spinal back ridge was retained and many retained plates on the upper and fore arm. There were also at this time still some cases of both H.sagittari scutis and H. sagittari osteodermis, however both slowly gave way to the faster and free moving Homo sagittari loricatis. The three sub species were fully compatible for mating purposes and the main reason for the decline of the more primitive forms was the dominance of the more agile Homo sagittari loricatus males.

     Slowly, the amount of bony plates reduced. The exterior cranial plate was still used presumably in combat, not always to the death, between males to settle disputes. For this reason the exterior cranial plate was the last to be subsumed by the endoskeleton. The spinal ridge on the back disappeared just before the cranial plate, this left a lumpy appearance in the internal spinal column in the new Klingon form.

     Finally the exterior cranial plate was lost and the modern Klingon form came into being. The internal skull had been reinforced to defend against the force of the Homo q’onoensis kranialis males striking their heads together. This gave the Klingon the well known cranial ridges.  Over time Homo q’onoensis kranialis developed a more settled lifestyle and their rudimentary use of implements led to the development of more complex tools. Homo q’onoensis kranialis began fashioning implements from wood, rock and bone using sinew as a binding material.

     As the use of implements grew and brain size increased, the nomadic nature of clans becomes more settled.  Thus we see the development of the large-brained Homo q’onoensis sapiens – the modern Klingon.  This development brought shelters and farming i.e. animal husbandry. In time, the use of implements led to the discovery of metals to replace bone and rock. Homo q’onoensis sapiens also developed the use of tools for modern defense and aggression – modern bladed weapons. Such weapons became commonly used in settling disputes, often fatally. This practice increased and became a pastime in itself. The male Homo q’onoensis sapiens regularly spar with each other violently for sport. This activity led to more success among more intelligent, larger-brained males when disputes with other clans arose.  At this time, clans developed into the first Klingon societies.

  

 Klingon evolutionary progression synopsis:

Homo sagittari scutis* – first known klingonoid biped developed from a ‘mammalian’ creature with a covering of heavy, scaled body plates/exoskeleton; opposable thumb; considered as the first with redundant organs; fossils suggest poison glands

Homo sagittari osteodermis* – A primitive klingonoid with several bony plates covering the vital areas of the body, such as chest, stomach and head. A prominent spinal back ridge with hard back plates and thick plates on the upper and fore arms

Homo sagittari loricatis*  - Klingonoid with several bony plates covering the vital areas of the body, such as chest, stomach and head. The spinal back ridge was retained and many retained plates on the upper and fore arms; developed the use of tools, such as utilizing rocks and sticks to break open the shells of other creatures

Homo q’onoensis kranialis - The thick exterior cranial plate was used in combat (?). For this reason the exterior cranial plate considered the last to be subsumed by the endoskeleton(skull thickens). Noticeable reduction of body plates / the spinal back ridge on the back disappeared just before the cranial plate, this left a lumpy appearance in the internal spinal column; development of tools for combat and hunting

Homo q’onoensis sapiens (Homo sapiens sapiens q’onoensis) – modern Klingon; retains prominent cranial ridges; hard leathery pads covering vital areas of body (chest, stomach, back, and upper parts of limbs); continued development of tools, development of recreational implements; settlements instead of nomadic lifestyle/animal husbandry, as opposed to hunting as main food source.

 * When speaking of the specific variant found on Kronos, the taxonomic name is usually followed by the variant name. Ex. Homo sagittari scutis var. qo’noensis.  However, in this information the specific variant is understood and will not be expressed.

 Notes:

1. also called Klinzhai by its inhabitants, the same name as the system.  When Klingons say “Klinzhai” they are not referring to merely the planet but to the entirety of their “residence” in the Universe.  Klingon writing and song often use Klinzhai to refer to the Universe as a whole, indicating the Klingon “right” to dominate all. (Note that the “Klinzhai” is sometimes spelled “Klinshai” in other cultures/dialects)
2. Some still use the antiquated term “the Kling (or Klin) system”
3. Past scientists claimed that the planet was made up entirely of a great landmass with few instances of water.  However, we know that to not be true; although it does lack the great percentage of water found on Earth.
4. Also see “The Asteroidal Tilt Change” or the modern “The Praxis Catastrophe” for more details
5. From a Terran perspective (?)
6. Humanoids from several star systems in the “Sagittarian Region” have very similar ‘klingonoid” features, most apparently the ridged forehead.  Other similarities include a redundant organ system and various biological processes.  Planets where the similarities are most observed naturally occurring include ‘Eng, Hoj, Busha, Azul VI, Tuqval, Daghtuj, Tysam, Majake, and Gillis IV.
7. Social organization is based on archeological evidence and the observations of Simia q’onoenis, which shares 97% of its DNA with modern Klingons (Homo q’onoensis sapiens)

"Dancing at the End of the World"

       We never knew it would end like this.  When I was a child, people predicted that it would be a violent end.  We were told that Mankind would show itself to be ultimately savage, with brother fighting brother till the very end.  They said we’d blow ourselves up.  But it didn't happen that way; there was hardly a whimper and there was dancing.  There was just a lot of dancing.

       My town of St. Odilia was a thriving, busy town as I remember it as a child.  It was far from the hell that it is now.  They say that most of the buildings were rock and metal back then, not the cardboard and wood used nowadays.  I just remember the sprawling acres of businesses with their bright lights as you traveled down the road.  It's now a gray memory. When I go down the main street today, it feels more like a Hollywood set from an old disaster movie than a real town. People don't remember movies. The older buildings made with their graying, rotting lumber contrast greatly with the buildings constructed of whatever materials could be found, including old twisted signage and wrecked sections of ruined old buildings.  Since nobody cares enough to create new materials, people have gone to using whatever can be found and salvaged for shelter.  Some just huddle together in shock, with maybe a blanket. Nothing looks clean and shiny new like I remember.  Everything has a stain of the past on it.  Burned edges and scorch marks are reminders that everyone notices but no one talks about. You stare at them while you wait for the finality of it all.

        Everybody just waits nowadays.  Nobody works anymore.  What is there to work for?  There's no motivation to do anything. Those very few that have always been that go-getter-type walk around collecting bottles and cans, or trying to form committees or groups.  Change and hope died a long time ago; I myself call it crazy.  The go-getters seem to have the attitude that if they stop, everything will really end – too late, you idiots.  We, those who just wait, watch them twitter about talking to themselves. They continue to walk around, their tin cans and bottles occasionally breaking the silence.

        The only ones nowadays that do seem to have a direction of some kind are the members of the Dancing Tribe -- young men and women, traveling around acting like what my mother would call “heathens”.  Most only wear loose brightly-patterned pants tied around their waists, baring their chests to the world.  I can hardly tell any difference between boys and girls - thin bodies, long hair.  They just dance together or alone out in the open, usually in some drug-like stupor. Their bodies jerk and heave without pause. Their arms flailing about like someone drowning. Hands grabbing at other bodies in fleeting caresses. It's one of the last beautiful things left to us. Occasionally, one of ‘em might drop dead when it finally gets them. 

        I remember when it started, and that lovely guy announced that he and his youthful friends would “dance while the world around us falls or until changes were made, whichever comes first.”  Nothing else had worked up to that point, although we had tried.  People had protested.  People had gotten angry.  People had rose up.  People had died.  But the Powers That Were had already secured our future and by doing so, they just dismissed us. By this point, no one really cared anymore.  Except for the Dancing Tribe.

       They had started as a way to get people’s attention about what was happening around us.  This guy and his buddies had tapped into the communications grid and sent messages for groups to meet and to protest.  They pleaded, they tried to coax.  When no one listened to them, that’s when they started to just dance. They just danced. Some thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever conceived, but the movement did get stronger. When they started to dance across the land, they began to have more people join them.  People at one point thought that this dancing would begin a new era. That something could be done, but there was nothing else that could be done. The End was here.

       Back when they announced that The End was finally here, nobody cried.  They just gathered up and made do until their time came.  Oh, occasionally there was one who would scream and bellow, shouting prayers to the ominous grey clouds.  Or one who would go on a rampage killing whatever was in his path.  Or one who knew what the answer was and then vanished into the mist. Most of us still just wait.

       Now just these dancing youths travel the countryside, dancing with the last remains of civilization.  They used to make me mad.   I don’t know if it was jealousy or grief; but nowadays, I always give a little clap when I see a roving band dance into town.  Mrs. Green usually thumped my head when I did my little cheer.  Now she’s gone.

       For a long time the Dancing Tribe seemed to have disappeared.  When they finally returned, they seemed sadder.  They still had their smiles, but they seemed to shine less.  They rarely talked except to help take away the pain; when you did hear them speak, you knew another soul was at rest.

       The last time they danced down the street, they only talked to a few of the sickest older folks. “Dance on,” I yelled to them inside my head, as I pulled my old blanket tighter to me. Once a young long-haired lad caught me looking at him and smiled at me.  He walked toward me with a big grin, pushing back a curly lock to get a better look. I looked at him straight into his hazy blue eyes. He got close enough that I could see my reflection in his wide pupils. He looked deep into me. He leaned his curly head to the side, and started to reach into a pocket of his pants.  He started to say something, but then he heard the tambourine in the distance.  He shook his head slightly from side to side in time with the shakes of the tambourine. He closed his eyes, his mouth twisted into an orgasmic grin. He turned toward the sound and I held my breath until he moved away, dancing away down the street toward the clarion call.  I caught him glancing back before disappearing into the gray mist. I hunkered down a bit. I finally lifted up and looked around at all the people huddled together in small tight groups on the steps and at the base of nearby buildings.  The foggy mist rolled down the street, carrying away the teeth-clenching sound of the tambourine.  I always wonder when they will return.

copyright 2013 T.F.Clardy 

"Mama's Cooking Blog 2055: Avocado Steak"

 Before Ethan, the greatest genetic engineering feat of all times had been the creation of the avocado steak -- 
a guilt-free meat analog.

Avocados, rich in health-benefiting mono-unsaturated fatty acids, seemed like the logical choice when scientists began to look for a real meat substitute.  It had a creamy fatty texture that could easily be translated into something meatier. The fear-mongering urban myth says that the avocado was modified using maggot DNA but everyone knows that it was actually Tenebrio molitor and bovine DNA. The end result being a moist succulent flavorsome meat analog. When they first hit the market you had people (usually dressed as Rosie de Avocado) demonstrating how to prepare the avocado steak.  Silly, but fun! No one will ever forget the red and green holograms!

How to prepare an avocado steak

1.                    Rub off any remaining brown husk. Be sure to fully wash the outer layer, removing any hairs or other stray bits. If not already removed, remove vestigial legs by pinch them as close to skin as possible.

2.                    Place the avocado steak fruit lengthwise on a secure surface.(Hint: Place a rubber mat on your counter or cutting board to prevent slipping.)

3.                    Hold the avocado securely with one hand, the softer belly of the avocado steak facing upward. Twist neckbulb until it can easily be pulled from the belly (You can get your dealer to do this)..

4.                    Slice slowly down the belly lengthwise around the tubercle, or ‘seed’, starting at the narrower neckbulb end.

5.                    Holding the avocado steak in the palm of one hand, use your other hand to twist and rotate the two halves apart.  Do this easily as the steak might slip away from the outer skin easily if it is very ripe.

6.                      Remove any excess fat from the belly, as this is excellent when used to saute the steak.

7.                    Remove the tubercle, or ‘seed’ (or leave it in if you plan to store one half) by slipping a spoon between the seed and steak. Gently work the tubercle, or ‘seed’, out - taking away as much of the lining as possible (the lining becomes nothing more than tough gristle when cooked).

8.                    For ripe avocado steaks, the outer skin or peel is easy to remove. Simply slice the avocado steak in half or cut into wedges.. Then grasp the outer dark layer or skin and pull it away from the inner red flesh of the steak. If some of the darker almost black portions of the skin remain on the red flesh of the steak, simply cut them away. The yellow to red portions of the avocado steak are what you want. Most people prefer a dark orange-red flesh. Do not consume the outer skin.

9.                    Cook your avocado steak through and until the internal temperature reaches 170°F.  Well-cooked avocado steaks are a medium gray (Hint: a proprietary browning liquid can be purchased from most avocado steak dealers.)

10.                When preparing avocado steaks, be careful to prevent cross-contamination by keeping your preparation area clean and separate from other foods such as meat, poultry, seafood, fruits, vegetables or nuts. Be mindful of other foods and surfaces they may come in contact with.  Genetic contamination can also create rogue genetic material on your kitchen surfaces. (Note: All genetic material derived from avocado steaks, present and future, is solely owned by American Biotech Consortium.)           

Avocado steak is excellent when prepared with Fun-tatoesâ, which give you that authentic meat-and-potato experience.  Adding Air-Carrotsâ creates a delightful “potted roast” dish.

Personal note:  My kids still sing the “Rosie de Avocado” song from the HOLO-NET, while dancing the “BBQ Shuffle”.

Rosie de Avocado Song

I’z Rosie de Avocado,

And kidz, here’s my motto,

 A day without a steak,

Izza pure heartache,

So hold out yer plate

And have an avocado steak

(everybody then rubs their belly and shouts "GMO-IS-O-SO-GOOD!")
ãAmerican Biotech Consortium, 2031

NEXT WEEK'S BLOG: Chicken Fingers and Scorpion Cabbage: Not just for Halloween anymore

"The Peach Tree"

The peach tree started life at a tree nursery amid questions of its paternity.  No one questioned that it was there, but they didn’t know from where the seed had come.  The pot in which it was growing had been located near the outermost greenhouse and had not been found until the little seedling was about 8 inches tall.  Some guessed that some wayward squirrel had planted it, but no one really knew (or really cared).  The daughter of the nurseryman ended up using the seedling in a science project; it was later sold with a tag that read “ Peach, parent stock unknown”.

       The peach tree was bought buy an elderly lady on a fixed income and unceremoniously planted in her back yard.  The lady became ill with a chronic condition and was told to spend most of her time indoors.  The peach tree spent the next years growing without any particular care.  It was never fertilized, except for the birds that nested in its branches. It was never pruned.  It was never treated for bugs – the birds took care of that for the most part.  It pretty much grew wild those first few years, but was full of leaves that raised themselves toward the Sun.

       When the lady died, her children decided to sell her house.  They realized that they needed to clean up around the house, so they hired a landscaping business to get her yard and gardens in order.  A young man was told to clear away the tangled brush and weeds from one particular part of the yard.  While he was doing his job, he came upon the peach tree.  His boss told him to just chop it down, but the young man figured that he might be able to use it.  He asked his boss if he could have it and his boss said he could.  The young man dug up the peach tree and put it in a yellow bucket.  He poured some water in the bucket and placed it in the shade of an old oak tree until he was ready to go home.

       After work, the young man took the peach tree in the yellow bucket to his mother’s house in the country.  He transplanted it near an old fence near the back of her property.  He fertilized it with some rich manure and gave it a good shower of water.  The peach tree seemed to thrive.  It grew a few feet, straight and tall.  The next spring for the first time it flowered.

       The flowers of the peach tree crowned its upper branches.  Bees buzzed around them every morning.  However, the season had come early, causing havoc with all the blooming fruit trees in the area.  There was an intense cold snap that killed almost every little blossom on the tree and the bees didn’t visit the tree anymore that year.  A few of the blossoms sprouted into little peaches – fuzzy and yellow. But before the little peaches could mature, mildew set in and they all fell from the tree.  Some of its twigs dried out and snapped off.  Tufts of lichens grew out of some of its branches.  Winter came again and the peach tree once again went dormant.

       The following spring, a lady in a white van came around.  She busied herself all over the property.  She made it finally to the peach tree, and began to snip off branches.  She sawed off some branches, clipped some dead twigs away, and picked off lichens and parasitic vines.  She sprayed various formulations onto its branches.  She rooted around the base of the tree, turning crystalline compounds into the soil.  She then laid a thick circle of mulch around the base of the peach tree.   Few blooms and no peaches occurred that year, but the peach tree was verdant and tall. 

       Finally one spring, the peach tree burst into bloom; its branches waved with billowing clouds of pink blossoms.  Weeks later, the branches of the peach tree heaved under the weight of bushels of juicy peaches.  People gathered and picked the luscious fruit, singing and buzzing around like bees around a hive.  Laughter filled the air as the juice of peaches ran down chins.  Pie and cobbler recipes were shared; the topic of what makes the best peach ice cream was debated. Soon people left, carrying away baskets of fresh peaches and twirling little twigs of peach leaves with their fingers.

       A mild rain came later that day and washed away some dust and traces of errant peach juice.  Droplets fell from the tips of leaves and the peach tree grew.