Dear Not-So-Evil Witch

Dear Witch,
I address you thusly mainly to keep your identity private.
I say "dear" because, you know what, you are not a bad person really.
You are smart, and can be kind, when you are not misguided or confused.
I've seen you help people.
Just, please, now, help that little step-child of yours.
You have the means to do so.
You've taken excellent care of other babies.
You can do this.
You have immense power over this precious baby's life,
 while she has none over anything at all.
She is a just a child.
Don't glare at her.
Don't criticize her.
Don't take away her privileges.
Try instead to lead her in the right direction
 with cooing, rewards, love, and appreciation.
Watch your world blossom as this child blossoms.
Your power struggles with her biological family are separate from your role in her life.


                                                                                                                     
                                                                                        ~xoxoxo
                                                                                              SDG
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Sometimes the sun goes round the moon, sometimes the snow comes down in June

The witch wants to pin every failing of every generation of your family on you...
She does so in an effort to deflect attention from her own miserable shortcomings, and the ignominies of her own pathetic family.
Pay no heed to that bullshit.
If an ancestor did something you are not proud of just know some apples fall off the tree, roll up a hill or two hills, down a dale, and back up again over more hills, and the occasional bump in the road .
That is their archetypal journey.
That is your story sweetheart, to tell.
Let no witch predict gloom and doom when you shed a tear or two.
Tears that flow are detoxing your body and soul, leeching out stuff from the crevices between your thoughts, between one emotion and the next, that were making you feel like life was going to be nothing but a talespin into nothingness from this point on.
Trust your journey.
Trust the feeling of free-falling through life.

Release the fear of pain.
Release the shame.
Rest.
Feel hopelessness give way to hope, organically, as it naturally does.

You'll be ready soon to get going again, to those adventures that are still calling your name.


                                                                                                                             - SDG.

Predators and Pimps

The witch has the mind of a predator, so she encourages her husband to 'go get laid' anytime he says so and so is a nice person, about any woman.
She has succeeded in pimping him out to friends and acquaintances many times, but something isn't working the way it usually does, her husband's mind.
He isn't falling for ANY of her usual tricks, because finally, after a huge mid-life crisis, the man has fallen in love with himself.
The rest of us are happy to see him happy, but she won't shut up about how depressed he is.
What she don't understand is love.
Now that we know she is unhappy that he is happy, we're worried she'll go for his jugular this time, and are hoping he's able to hang on to his newfound sense of wellbeing.

                                                                                                                                      -  SDG

Daddy, yeh daayin hai kya?

Witches make the worst step moms.
Ask Cinderella, Snow, Hercules, Bhagwan Ram, Gretle, Hansel ...

                                                                                                                                  - SDG

          

Dilli ke laddoo

Witch ne kaha, Dilli mein rehete hain asli jadugar.
Ab dekho main kya karti hoon.
                                                                                                    - SDG

Billi Ke Nau Sau Choohe Hazam Huye

Witch ne kaha thaa us potti ko logaan chahate kyunki uske aang ku gosh hai.
Aur yeh bhi ki koi bhi nahin milaa poore India mein toh ek faltu Pakistani potte se shaadi kari uno.
Standard nahin hai usku.
Ab jo hai so usi bachchi ku badhayaan deri.

                                                                                                                           - SDG

           

Tujhame rab dikhta hai, yaara main kya karun ...

So many of us value love, kindness, ethics, scholastic achievement, sports, music, food, travel, etc etc above the wad of cash in another's wallet, we forget how economics inform the witch's worldview.
She attaches a dollar value to mothering, wifery, scholarship, everything, and has decided that they generate no money, and are therefore worthless pursuits.
She said once to me, "w.i.f.e. = wash, iron, fuck, etc."
She does no laundry and seldom bathes. She's never ironed anything in her whole life she says so she does not know how to. Hmmmm ... I like that line of logic. She says sex is valuable because she keeps it that way by controlling the supply as it relates to the demand. Her granny told her on her wedding night to always keep her man slightly hungry so he'd take good care of her. Her momma smirked. The woman had already established herself in the neighborhood as the resident cougar. The "etc." is where the witch has carved out a niche for herself. Her husband is in charge of a putting a stamp of approval on a certain precious piece of paper without which people cannot start or run a business, so his wife has positioned herself as gatekeeper to his office. She charges every businessman who comes through the door 10%  of his monthly profits before she calls out to her husband to let him know someone is here to see him. He gets from that kitty only what she allows him to touch. What's true of the pussy, is obviously true of the kitty too, duh. And since food and sex are both appetite based needs, she carefully controls what he eats as well. Anything he eats with relish is banned from their table. She don't cook, but the bawarchi would be found hanging by the ceiling fan if he so much as slipped the saheb a delicacy or two while she is gone on witching trips.
I know now why her husband sees the witch as the ghar ki laxmi. He puts the stamp on every paper sent his way for free, since that is his job, for which he is paid on a monthly basis. Given the new economic boom it is the witch who makes more than he ever will.
Every day he offers her flowers and says to the world he's nothing but a lowly worshipper to his goddess wife.

                                                                                                                                        - SDG

Ah! Finally she tells us the truth!!

Witch,"You should always be one up."
Normal Person #19,"What???? Ok, now I get it. I finally understand why every conversation with you and your cohorts feels like an inquisition. I can see why your every relationship is based on either money or power, and is completely situational. I can see why you hate happy people. Phew! And I thought I was a poor conversationalist. Now that you've explained it to me that way, I see why, despite your pretty sari and new Maruti, you always reminded me of a braindead donkey caught in a bear trap. Thank you!! That explains every thing. Have a good life Witch."

                                                                                                            ~ SDG

The Early Stages of Dementia

The Witch was going through some serious stuff inside of the ugly cavern of her cranium.
Since she is evil  by nature, the loss of her faculties has brought out the worst in her.

Step on a flower and the air fills with sweet perfume.
Step on an adder you get injected with poison....

So rewind to a few years ago, the witch was her venomous self around her neighbors, and alienated them horribly. There grew an unhealthy distance between them and her. In that space where neighbors meet and greet one another and become an extended family, she began to feel like the neighbors, having suffered so much agony because of her, must surely want revenge. In a stupid and completely unnecessary attempt to "protect" her evil self she carries a huge rake with her whenever she is in her yard, summer, spring, winter, and of course, fall. She looks like the devil himself, rake and all. Her husband carries a gun when mowing the yard and taking out the trash.
 
Golly, what an existence!

The Urbanization of The Truly Rural Republic

     There was once a youngling herdsman boy with a dimpled chin and a large wooden staff.
     He was well liked in his village, being cute, and diligent, and not too overbearing.
     It was only when he turned fifteen that the villagers began to notice there was something about his aura that made them wary of setting too close to him. Now they didn't exactly begin to shoo him away or shun him, but they did keep a safe distance from him, and warned their children against him, in the vein of,"He's got cooties. Stay away from him." The elders watched him carefully as he went about his day herding goats, for they knew much talent often comes with a hidden curse, and they liked the boy for his manly ways and caring heart, but they wanted to be sure he wouldn't bring ruin to their people if they trusted him with power as he came of age.
      It was noted that the traveling salesman's young wife had a grapefruit tree whose grapefruit began to shrivel when the boy helped her tend her garden. She let him go in a year or so and got her green thumb back, her garden verdant again, the grapefruit proud and plump.
     Then he found love with the fishmonger's daughter more muscular than he. She dallied with him until she realized she had to let him go, his nervous habit of  repetitiously unplugging and plugging the hole in her dinghy had left her sphincter so loose she wasn't watertight anymore nor as buoyant as she used to be.
      All of the above misfortunes were attributed to the vagaries of youth and discounted heavily when it was settled upon a gift of 4 goats and a sack of grain he could marry the farmer's daughter. The farmer's daughter, not quite fourteen, appealed to the council of elders she be allowed to reside in her mother's house for two years, until she turned sixteen. The wish was granted, and a feast ensued, where there was much singing and dancing and drinking. It was noted by the elders the bride, an otherwise sprightly little girl who liked to sing and dance, didn't exactly participate in the celebration, but sat watching the proceedings from behind the torn curtain of  the family tenement.
     The night was over, the bonfire had been killed, everyone had gone home, the sun began to rise in the east. The business of living was about to be resumed, and each day following that, it was observed that the girl got wearier, and wearier, and our story weirder, and weirder.
     It wasn't until on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, sick and tired of being sick and tired, the girl declared she was now an adult, packed a few things, and left for the city.
     She sent home a postcard to tell her family she was well and that the city air had cured her of the uglification spell, and she was now working for good pay as a fashion model. She said she had a place of her own, and a little money in the bank, and that she'd come back for her little sister and brothers as they grew old enough to go to college.
   And with that began the emptying of the village far from everything.
                                                                                                                                ~ SDG