My Estranged employer used to call that "the Sins of the Father".
Weird thing is that I sold a book called The Seven Deadly Sins.
Weird because I'm still handwriting it for a select few people.
I started thinking about "poetry" more so than the sins of the father,
because I feel/believe that this life is kind of doomed. I mean I can have aHappy!
...attitude about it, but in the long run it's just mental.
The world and
me are at odds with one another,
and all the rest of us are necessarily doomed. I've never seen anything
to disuade me from this point of view.
To be sure, I can have a happy attitude about being fucked over
(picture of a man smelling fresh flowers in a beautiful meadow)
and that happy attitude will make the shit on the bottom of my shoes
smell about the same, but I won't be upset so
much about it. But?
The crap is still there. I just complain about it less.
That being said, I'll include a poem -- totally off the topic -- from one of my favorite authors.
Joe R. Lansdale...A STRANGE POEM
Outside on the street, I saw a strange poem
wearing nice shoes,
and pleated slacks.
Socks with dots,
We waved at each other.
I had arms.
It had words.
One of its words fell
into the storm drain
The poem chased me,
all the way home.
Its outside my window,
trying to get in.
I locked the doors.
I pulled the shades.
I went to the word processor
and wrote this down.
I looked outside my window.
The poem is gone.
I found its bloody tracks,
in the new
Reprinted here without permission, but found on the web here: Joe R. Lansdale
And getting back to your thesis, Phinny - I saw an episode of Night Gallery by Rod Serling.
The episode was about an ancient ritual known as "Sin Eating".
John Boy Walton - WTF was that guy's real
name... ? - was the son of a "Sin Eater"
The twist was that Sin Eaters are paid to eat the sins of those dearly departed
so that they may be granted entrance into the joys of the eternal thereafter.
So, who eats the sins of the sin eater? Good old John Boy was shanghaied into
eating those sins. I remember the visual. I was young. It was John Boy
screaming in pain as the sins of the sin eater became his, and he internalized them.