Bear the Great – Chapter Twenty-Five.
<Placement? TBD. Numbering can be adjusted.>
The deceased blogger. Gosh how he hated to hear himself referred to this way. It sounded so final. But facts were facts. And there was no getting around it: He was dead. His blog was kaput. And whoever had killed him was still out there someplace, either plotting, or biding their time, he wasn’t sure which. Since he’d been struck from behind, he still wasn’t 100% certain, though he had his suspicions. No shortage of candidates when it came to those wishing him ill. But the still-living had at least this much right: When it came to murder, it took all three of “means, motive, and opportunity” to garner a conviction. And that was still true on both sides of the River Jordan.
There was one misconception about the afterlife that had been immediately dispelled when he crossed over. Unlike the Big Guy Himself, you didn’t automatically become omniscient or omnipresent when you got to heaven. It’s true that time and space became a whole lot less of an obstacle. But you couldn’t be everywhere all at once. Sequential and spatial reality still mattered. Who knew?
Einstein certainly had gotten a few things right, the most important of which was that The Almighty didn’t play dice with the Universe. In fact when it came to games of chance, He definitely preferred Texas Hold ‘Em to craps. And the only sort of roulette He cared for was the Russian variety. Yep. Believe it or don’t: Those bloodthirsty ancients had a leg up on most moderns. The penultimate scene in The Deerhunter, the one where Christopher Walken and Robert DeNiro are sitting at a table, a revolver between them, with one in the chamber? Divinely inspired. I kid you not.
The other thing that quickly became apparent after death was that The Almighty had very few hard and fast rules. I mean, what good is Paradise if you have to be always looking over your shoulder worried about who’s watching or listening in? But the few rules He had, He stuck to with a tenacity that was startling. For instance, imprecise language seemed to really bother Him. Take the phrases “beyond grateful” or “beyond ecstatic” or “beyond” anything: If such extravagance was your intent, then find the correct word and use it to convey your exact meaning. Otherwise, sit down and STFU.
Speaking of which… since arriving at the pearly gates, the blogger had been working on cleaning up his foul language. Turns out that expletives, though perhaps conveying a certain emotional depth, were examples of the kind of scattershot linguistic imprecision that the Almighty especially abhorred. In fact, swearing seemed to be one of His biggest pet peeves. Go figure.
The blogger remembered his grandmother’s regular substitutions for commonly uttered epithets: “Sugar!” “Jiminy Christmas!” “Dog it!” She was already way ahead of the game by the time she got here. He figured after he settled in he’d have to look her up. His guess? She probably was leading discussions in the Golden Age class up near the front during Sunday School, just like she’d already done on the earthly plane.
He was also pretty sure Bear was up here somewhere too. No shortage of pets wandering around the place. But none of them seemed to be attached to an owner, so he didn’t hold out much hope of finding him on the end of a leash. As for heavenly misconceptions, here was another one: The dogs still liked to sniff each other’s butts. Perhaps he should keep an eye open for a well-coiffed poodle. If one were around, he was pretty sure Bear wouldn’t be far behind. But without the aid of bacon, he doubted Bear would even bother to give him the time of day here in the Great Beyond. Staying true to oneself was Bear’s strong suit, but loyalty? HA! Think again.
Operator? Give me information. Give me long distance.
Get me heaven on the line… (two three four).
Gotta love Manhattan Transfer.
********
The Pet Psychic had tried to reach him any number of times, but he didn’t pick up. The fact was, she was probably already on the right track as far as sleuthing went, and she certainly didn’t need his help. Besides, he was having way too much fun watching over all those who’d wished him ill during his lifetime. He chortled every time they stubbed a toe. Petty? Sure. But if you thought the departed were beyond all that, then you had another think coming. Yet another cherished mortal misconception to flush down the celestial drain.
His better half, however, he did feel the need to send good vibes to. The police raking her over the coals like that was totally uncalled for. I mean, 20% of murders committed by “intimate partners” still meant 80% weren’t. Didn’t these people have any appreciation for the details of basic statistics? Watching her give what-for to the detective who interrogated her made him proud. And when she turned the tables, inviting him over for a little “warp and weft?” He wanted to stand up and cheer. You go, girl.
********
Posts on DEWConsulting.net fit into one of five main categories, each represented by a hashtag. Of these, #Miscellaneous was by far the most important. That’s because miscellany included not only snark, humor, and memes, but also New Yorker cartoons. The centrality of wry wit and cartoon tomfoolery to the mission of his blog just couldn’t be overstated.
#ThisDayInHistory had been the blogger’s main area of interest when he first started out. In fact, early posts were nothing more than cut-and-pastes straight from History.com which sent out a daily email summarizing what had happened on each date down the years. And there was nothing wrong with that, not really. Well, not if a little casual plagiarism didn’t bother you. The problem came after about a year or so when it became abundantly clear that the editors of History.com weren’t interested in updating the range of their selections, so things began repeating themselves. The blogger was pretty much compelled by that point to look further afield for content.
#CurrentEvents came next. The blogger had absolutely zero interest in “fair and balanced” when it came to the news. He didn’t watch Fox, he didn’t read NewsMax, and he never once listened to the likes of Sean Hannity, Tucker Carlson, or Laura Ingraham. That being said, he did realize that the NYTimes and CNN were skewed in their own ways, so he always read the Denver Post first. And by-and-large he completely bypassed NPR: “Commercial-free” my ass. The Lila Wallace Foundation may have given support freely, along with “listeners like you,” but that didn’t mean it was unbiased. Far from it.
#WordOfTheDay reflected his love of linguistics and his penchant for doing crosswords. Outside of his better half, few of his blog’s readers felt the same way, but he didn’t care. Language mattered. And exploring word origins and associations pleased him. If others felt differently? Fuck ’em. Grandma never had a euphemism for that one, so he retained it. Cherished it. And used it often.
#Literature was added late in the game when he realized he’d been putting an awful lot of stuff like book reviews and poetry under #Miscellaneous. And when the time came later on to write his Magnum Opus – or even just a humble murder mystery – he could use it to keep track of Chapters and so forth. WordPress’ word-count feature was an additional bonus here. A thousand words a chapter times a hundred chapters equalled a hundred thousand words, or the average length of a published book. Never underestimate the power of the tried and true.
#RoxHikes was his favorite. It gave him a chance not only to catalogue trail descriptions, but also to accumulate wildlife and nature photos. Tramps through Roxborough State Park inspired the name, but he kept track of treks from all over, even ones from faraway California on the Sacramento River levee or along the spine of the Pacific Crest Trail. The non-hiking segment of his readership probably had to grit their teeth, grimace, and just bear down to get through it all. But that was alright by him. Because at bottom this was not about them. It was about him. And if some folks didn’t like that? Well, then they could pony up the annual registration fee for their own domain name and write their own dang blog. It was a free country after all.
********
He was pretty sure somewhere along the line he’d offended somebody who had a screw loose. There was no shortage of loose screws in this old world, or of people prone to taking offense. But that was OK: He’d keep watching the steady stream of humanity down below moving like pedestrians viewed from the top of a skyscraper. Or like ants on the trail. Eventually someone would tip their hand, and then he’d know. He was seeking neither retribution nor even justice. All he had ever wanted, no matter which side of Jordan, was to know the truth. And the truth would set him free.