TinYAP 001 > A Sordid Little Story, How TV Addicts, Privacy Lost, The Unholy Triangle

Please see our forthcoming introduction if you find yourselves lost in the text below… (introduction and link to follow soon) …thanks.

<the authors shake their heads>

<> this little play-let that is about to unfold for our readers seemed significant enough to drop it in here (now part of a much longer work that we will post here bit by bit, shortly).  This unexpected ultra-short short story seemed significant both for Jebidiah’s name, and for a demonstration of subliminal communication in face-to-face talk.

<works for a few other things we would like to demonstrate too>

<> what Jeb’s name may mean we do not know except it sounded something like Jeb-he-die-yeah, and hollow-way… both are things we might personally trigger on, but they may also be things our wayward hubby character, Henry, might possibly think, particularly if he happened to detest the man he suspected was doing it to his wife… and, as it happens, of course, he does happen to detest his minister very, very much…

<> We now join our previous program in progress…

<Mary> Did I tell you I saw Jebidiah Holloway earlier today?

<narration> The woman speaking to her husband has seen her husband flirting with Jebidiah’s daughter.  By using Jebidiah’s name without his title, minister, she alerts her husband that this is a personal matter she saw her minister about, not a strictly spiritual one, as if Henry would ever even believe that.

<Henry, on hearing the name of the detested man whose wife was safely beyond any corruption but the grave’s, reacted in his mind with a replay of one of his favorite fantasies of killing Jebidiah, a fantasy that excited his stupid current wife, Mary too well.

Henry knew his violent fantasies about Jebidiah turned Mary on something crazy, only she wasn’t hot for him.

<Henry’s thoughts> …oh no, he just had to go and pluck the apple of the minister’s damn eye, and now, as with every day, his marriage was souring ever more and more.

<narration> These days, Henry’s god-blessed rival was scoring more on poor Henry’s own damn wife than Henry was.

<Henry> Damn that minister’s ass…

<> (authors) hm.. sounds like some sort of soap opera stuff… crass, brass, and a little ass…

<narration> Well, perhaps Henry thought that only he himself really knew the entire story about poor ole Missus Ann Holloway, deceased, who really was a bit too young for the minister, but then the ministers daughter Jessie was surely too young too, and neither the minister nor Henry minded doing Jessie at all.

Now that Henry was fishing in his ever-so-blessed minister’s very own private fishin’ hole, well, it wasn’t so damn private anymore, now, wuzzit?

<> readers may note the narrator’s voice drifts in and out; as Henry’s thoughts are described the narrator begins to sound more  and more like Henry.

<Henry’s thoughts> …of course the minister would kill his own wife to shut her up, it gave him the perfect cinch-hold on his own daughter.  On the one hand, Jessie knows her pa would kill her too, while on the other hand,her pa can make Jessie feel so guilty about her mother’s death that she allows herself to be trapped into accepting all the blame for her mother’s death rather than place it squarely where it might really belong, upon her beloved daddy’s sacred head.

<> And oh what another sacred head her daddy had… Jessie sure did love her daddy every morning noon and night, at least, until that damn Neachy woman caught his eye…

Jessie was terrified her daddy would kill her if he decided to move on to another woman, and besides, who did that hussy think she was to come between her and her daddy?

Well, now, she was Henry’s wife of course, a woman who knew Jeb had been a thorn in her Henry’s side from the moment she allowed Henry to tear her out of her true love’s holy arms.

Mrs. Neachy now knew, of course, about her minister’s dalliances with his own daughter.

At first Mary considered blackmailing him, just as soon as she suspected what was up.

Alas, Mary couldn’t resolve her inner conflicts regarding whether to blackmail Jeb either for money or for marriage in time to make up her mind what to do before Henry had stepped in and resolved all her tensions for her by inviting to steal her away from some pending disaster in the making, should she make the wrong choice.

<Mary’s thoughts> Henry was strong, and talented where it counts.  Perhaps best of all, he hated the minister with a passion that turned Mary on more than she would ever dare let Henry know.  She was caught between two men both of whom she loved and detested; at first one would seem better, and then the other.

If only one of them would kill the other and settle the matter for her.

Of course, either way she would have to get the minister’s tramp out of the picture.

Maybe she could frame one of them for the murder of the other while making the motive for the murder seem to be to avenge the death of the daughter…

Now *that* had some promise…

<authors> Pure fantasy, for the most part, for poor Mrs. Mary Neachy, but the parts about the minister, his daughter and his wife were all true.

Henry, of course, got the whole sordid story out of Mary and Jessie in bits and pieces

The story came together for Henry, not out of anything Mary or Jessie deliberately told him, and not out of anything Henry interrogated either of them about; the story came out only from Mary and Jessie’s guilty sub-consciousness’ tattling on both themselves and on the minister, making comments obliquely in random moments of scattered off-the-wall remarks, full of Freudian slips, and various not-so-subtle innuendoes that Henry finally pieced together enough to figure out the truth for himself.

<Henry’s thoughts> So here they were, all in a fine pickle, Henry should just swap with the minister, a daughter for a wife.

<narration> With that thought Henry goes off on another hard wet fantasy of getting Jessie alone again.

Henry suddenly found that he needed to get a better grip on himself.

<authors> What, people never think or act like this? 

Do not kid yourselves.

You may want to deny you may sometimes think this way so you try to deny it obliquely by denying most other people do not think this way, and by extension you imply this includes yourselves as well.  Except, of course, you most likely do sometimes think this way, or perhaps you only think in somewhat similar ways, or perhaps you have thought in similar ways only in the past, but of course, you might still think this way in the future sometime if you really have failed to ever think these sorts of thoughts before…

It’s kind of hard not to get through this life without having all sorts of fantasies or conjectures that you may want to entertain yourselves with simply because they are titillating and help you get your blood up, one way or another.

So what is your blood up to?

No boys, not your penis girths or lengths, those are almost certainly all lies.


What your blood is up to is distributing hormones that thrive on titillation.  Your blood is making you prepare for either a sexual encounter, a violent encounter, or possibly, both.

Whether both is the best or worst of all possible worlds depends on what you like, of course.

On the one hand, you may  have gotten so angry at the moral conduct of everyone involved that your blood pressure cuff exploded from your arm in suicidal self-defense.

On another hand you may have sympathized with one or more of the characters, particularly if you are sexually repressed and find that any sort of sexual content attracts you to try to bond with one or more of the characters portrayed so that you can fantasize with them about doing someone or other’s lover for revenge or possibly worse.

If you are prone to violence, you may agree that someone should solve the whole mess with a shotgun, or perhaps just a good shove down some long stairs.

The sexual content can get many people to drop their defense mechanisms.  This is accomplished by the characters leading the audience by examples of their own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.

The audience may be tricked into accepting the premise of a minister doing his daughter partly because all four parties involved have preferred not to consider their moral or ethical positions in favor of the positions of power or sex they desire. 

Partly, the sexual content may disarm peoples’ defense mechanisms because the hormonal responses of audience members trigger them to accept whatever is happening, not only on the screen, but also in their real lives, and in their homes.

There are powerful hormones, possibly called neuro-epinephrines, that regulate the behavior of female cats as they move through their cycles, in and out of heat.

Humans too often fail to understand how similar hormones in human affect either themselves or others.  Nonetheless, our co-evolutions as mammals mean that cats and humans share many biochemically similar properties, such as very highly advanced hormone systems with which they regulate their own behaviors.

Thousands of years of civilizations can barely cover up our more bestial natures, our veneers of ethics, virtues or moralities are quite often scarcely paper thin.

<Henry>  A pussy that won’t fuck any other time will still fuck when she is horny enough, and she will always let you know when she is horny enough.

<Jebidiah> Of course you can’t let some piece of ass crack the whip, you have to take charge; you have to tell them bitches who is boss, just like the Good Lord says.

<Jessie> Momma was bad, she wanted to steal my Daddy.  Daddy wouldn’t have had to kill Momma except I forgot to keep our special secret really secret.  It’s all my fault, I know.

<Mrs. Ann Holloway, deceased> …at first I was afraid to protect my Jessie, then I realized she didn’t want protection!  then I got jealous, I might have killed her, I was that mad…

<Mrs. Neachy> What was I to do?  Henry never really wanted me, I got so scared of Jeb, but I was afraid to leave him; now I’m scared to leave Henry.  Oh why did I ever marry Henry?

<> but this is only a made-up story, right?

Or is it?

You decide.

We say we made it up, we may be wrong, and yet we sincerely believe it is original to us.

But could we have heard it before on tv?

Might we have read it long ago in a now forgotten book?

Have we conveniently forgotten the real provenance of our story to claim it for own?

We do not know, except that it becomes such a common story; if you change the roles, the characters, and the relationships just a little, you might know people whom you could fit in to this story from among yourselves, your families, your friends or peers.

Regardless of the truth value of any of the specific details, a truth value is assigned by your visceral emotional responses, and it gets your blood up, one way or another, according to your own predispositions or predilections.

Sex and violence get your blood up in order to distribute your highly self-addicting neuro-hormones, hormones that keep you glued to your tv if you cannot make your real personal life equal to or stronger in emotional value than is your life as a couch potato.

Of course, one quick, cheap solution is to just fight with your spouses, or fight with your partners, or your children, family, friends, peers, or anyone available, really.  You might pick a fight with the whole damn world if it pleases you, just to keep your hormonal tv addictions from jonesing you while you are away from your precious tv.

And God help anyone who flips your channels!

Fortunately, most people keep their burgeoning violence and naked sexuality under tight wraps, for the most part, so that few people ever really get to see each other as the bestial animals they sometimes allow themselves to be, in private.

Except, of course, the private parts are becoming more and more visible every day, until there will soon be no understanding of what privacy once was.

Our blackberries, iphones and androids have taken our privacy out of our bedrooms and posted it on the internet.  Our children grow up knowing they have no privacy, and many children, already, are no longer caring, that is if they ever even know what they have lost, along with their innocence.

Should we care?

Perhaps; perhaps it depends.

Privacy might be unnecessary if our laws were just, and if so called ‘private justice’ were not too often above the law.

Privacy might be unnecessary if husbands or wives didn’t kill one another or kill their partners’ lovers over jealousies.

A lot of human nature that once depended upon privacy may revert to the days before privacy marketing developed privacy as a commodity that has reached a new zenith in recent centuries.

What few illusions of privacy we may have once had are being eroded away; and, like the increasingly earlier sexualization of young children, we do not ask anyone, not even ourselves, whether this be good or bad, we only point out that both of these seem to be inevitable trends that are at least partly the products of our addictions to our own human hormones and the ways we choose to pump these highly addictive hormones throughout our bodies and our lives with our televisions, radios, mobile phones, walkmans and computers.

Let us not say this is sad; instead, let us ask how we may adapt so that we may all have healthier families, lives, and societies together.


Love, Grigori Rho Gharveyn,

aka Greg Gourdian, Falcon, Chameleon, Roger Holler, etc., et al, and then some…

CHALLENGE – Introducing the unholy triangle; these are the three great silent collaborators who have divided nearly all earthly human power between themselves.  These three might be said to keep nearly all of humanity either hostage or enslaved.

  • government (includes all military)
  • religion (nearly any, perhaps all)
  • organized crime (includes many or most corporations, particularly global corporations)

Can you describe how the unholy triangle may be part of anything we have shared with you in this blog?  (before posting this challenge)

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