EC 526  

Upon Whom the Ends

of the Ages Have Come…

^{A fantasy for an Apocalypse}

© Ludis Cuckold (2015)

35 Addendum 7

Apologia

When I recently told my two remaining and in America dwelling family members that I was short on money and asked for a helping hand, both refused. When I told one that the money was to guarantee myself a proper cremation, the question I got was how much it cost. When I gave the internet address of the crematorium, I was told the price could not be found, and, besides, the questioner knew too little of the Latvijan language if the price had been found.

Needless to say, I was pissed, but not surprised. I had long ago noted that the descendants of WW2 refugees (the few remaining living ones, their spouses, and children) in foreign lands came back to Latvija mostly to sell the properties of their forebears and take the money back to their new domiciles—America, Australia, Canada, or wherever. This is not to say that there are no exceptions (myself including), but exceptions are rare and frowned upon by the post-Soviet Latvijan government as reinvestment in Latvija implies medling in the post-Soviet government policy of disappearing the country into A Politically Correct Greater Federated European Union (APCGFEU, aka ‘a fig on you’) or potentially disagreeing with neogovernment propaganda of hatred for Russia.

In any case, I am saving money for my funeral myself and feeling much better for it. It has put a crimp in my ability to help Daisy, but not entirely. Yesterday, for example, I took her eldest son with me to Riga and we went to see a movie by the name of “Gods of Egypt”. The movie was the boy’s choice. The choice must have had the Yod or finger of Osiris on it, as I found it interesting as well. For one, the interests of a thirteen year old and an eighty-three year old coincided. The movie was pure myth a la Holywood (rapid action enhanced by seat shaking blasts from the Dolby sound system), and the story about the pursuit of a dead love and bringing her back to Life from he Underworld.

In the movie the quest does not go unrewarded. Osiris (or whatever his name) regains his eyesight, and his human companion is reunited with his lost love. As I watched, I could not help thinking of Daisy, who is keeping from me that she has found a new lover (no longer her cousin), but has grown confident enough in herself to reach out for my hand to give me both reassurance and courage, the latter which I sometimes fear I may have wasted and perhaps lost.

Still, whether so intended from the beginning or not, as I was born to see it, history is false flag waiting to be torn down.