History Times

Once upon an evolving time we were a great first nation, or second nation, depending on your historical perspective, but definitely not a third nation although some cooperative economists thought we might be competing ourselves in that over-invested and ego-inflationary direction. This first and second nation had grown tired of electing puppy dogs, with bought and sold kennel cough and regurgitation, as Chief. Living within this mighty nation was a Big Bad Wolf who campaigned by shouting "Wolf" and cheerleading for BigBad Woolfacism, and the sleepy and bored people found this exciting as if more entertainment must be a change for better rather than almost unimaginable worse and so nearly half of them stumbled into dog-eared polls and elected Chief B.B. Wolf. B.B. Wolf took his wolfish degenerative promises somewhat seriously, thinking, sort of, and both reasonably and unreasonably enough, this was why he was new Chief Wolf, but became frustrated as he learned the larger half who had impudently voted for Other were more hoping for a Big CoOperative Wolf which he considered more of a Big Bad *****. Tired of hearing "Wolf!..Wolf!" and "Come hither *****!" twittered and beeped and compressed across every media outlet, this battered tribe began turning off their radios at mere mention of B.B. Wolf, stopped choosing to read his anti-potlatch tweets, boycotted every paper and editor and blogger, story teller and poet who dared mention Chief Wolf and his campaign of blighting promises and threats and competing WinLose compromises and fake news and non-events and non-plans and non-design and non-cooperative and non-trust non-sense non-sensed non-sensing non-sensual non-sensical scrambling politics. This went on for near a week before B.B. Wolf's press secretary called a Briefing to which no one came but him, or her, depending on which secretary drew the shortest straw that morning. No one even briefly bothered hearing for sure which came to represent further dissonance and dismay. By afternoon even B.B. Wolf heard his own empty echoing chambers and twittered "Never mind. I'm the first and best Chief to ever hold a Brief without pressing business anyway." Then announced he would be happy to try something new, to mindfully listen to questions and comments and concerns to see if we might together become smart enough to come up and down with some well-planned feasible answers, somewhere this side of more fake non-news, non-events, etc... Someone way in the back of the smallest press room in the smallest town in the shortest State, some BBB, no doubt, as the Chief would later say, asked him what Saudi Arabia might have been willing to invest in with less toxic outcomes if he had offered wholesale on trees and organic edibles, wind turbines and solar panels, natural construction and organic gardening and nutritional militias armed with our best good regenerative seeds and permacultural nurturing designs for care-giving and -receiving and global cooperative health insurance and mutual wealth of resonance assurance. Still, he had promised to think about it and so he did the best he could within his echoing silo. But the next day all this nation's media on- and off-polypathic communication lines that spacetime 4D regenerative mattered twittered and tweeted and splattered blogged and editorially bleated mindful questions and cooperative "Yes...and..." responses listed blisteringly out loud like positive organic healthy yeast far too deep and rich for B.B.. Wolf to hope for continuing control much less to actually nurture and manna lead like a Big Good Wolf might have started, and then watch what we together remade. He "Wolf!"ed to agree to disagree and did so endlessly but all the larger half not in his fan base and at least half of his smaller half of former followers were much too busy refilling all his negatives with their WinWins "Yes that healthy choice, and how about this nutrition too?" instead of their old degenerating WinLose anti-climatic ways. This remained such the larger gospel reweaving story B.B. Wolf had no one to rant at and, frankly, not much to do other than playing golf and counting his money which were his trump cards anyway. And so it is this story began with selecting Chief B.B Wolf and ends with everybody living happily and healthy wealthing ever after. A moral of and for this story: That's what big bad wolves are for, to show us what is best to more relentlessly ignore. But, I'm sure we can, together, think of both...and nutritional more. Our Beginning: Once upon an evolving time we were a great first nation and second cooperatively matriarchal established state, co-depending on her-historical perspectives.