Dear Friends,
The Hard Taco song for July is called, "Fighting Weight." I dug deep to find that special sauce that turns regular white music into white funk.
Summer is for campfires, and a good campfire invokes memories of camp counselors telling stories on a dark night. In particular, I think about folk tales about anthropomorphic animals and the lessons they teach us. For this month's digest, I've written three such folk tale, and I hope one of these makes it to your summer campfire.
The Ring of Life
One morning, a young farm girl awoke to learn that her father had butchered a baby pig that she loved. Her father, the farmer, looked all over for her, and eventually found her in the barn, weeping.
"It's true that we eat the pig," he told her, "but when we die, our bodies go the earth and feed the grass. The horse eats the grass, and the horse's manure becomes the breeding ground for flies. Then bats eat the flies and leave their droppings on the field where we grow the soybeans that feed the pigs."
"So life is kind of like a big circle?" she asked, feeling somewhat comforted.
"Not really," the father continued, "You see, we also kill the horses to make glue. That glue is used to hold together the fuselage of the mid-sized aircraft that drop incendiary bombs on military and civilian targets. Most of the victims have insurance policies that pay out a settlement to their next of kin, who will just gamble the whole thing away, mostly on online sports betting. The top 10 gambling mega-corporations have a 98% market share, with over $40 billion in holdings."
"So... it's kind of like a lasso of life, rather than a circle?" the girl asked.
"Something like that," the farmer said, and handed her a plate of bacon.
The Blackbird and the Blacksmith
Said the blacksmith to the blackbird, "I have weary legs and a weary back. Would that I could fly like you. But alas, my hairy arms are not built for flight."
Said the blackbird to the blacksmith, "I have weary wings and a weary beak. Would that I could walk the streets like you. But alas, my tiny talons are not built for long walks."
So they made a pledge. The blackbird agreed that she would grant the smith the power of flight for one full day. In return, the blacksmith would fashion strong and beautiful shoes for the blackbird as he had done for the horse, so that she could hike the earth without damaging her delicate feet.
And so the smith stayed awake for three nights, forging shoes for the blackbird. On the morning of the fourth day, he attached them to her talons, and they fit perfectly. But the iron was so very heavy. "I can neither walk nor fly," said the poor blackbird.
And now it was time for her to fulfill her promise to the blacksmith. She lighted a candle that would burn for one full day, no more and no less. "As long as this flame lives," she told him, "you will have mighty plumage that can carry you to the heavens."
No sooner had she said those words then the blacksmith sprouted luxurious feathers. He took flight at once. He glided to the top of the highest church and out over the sea. But he was brazen as he was careless, and flew too far to see that the candle had burned down. As the flame died, his wings retreated into his hairy back, and he fell to the earth, crippling his hairy legs. "I can neither walk nor fly," said the poor blacksmith.
But the blackbird could still flap her wings, stoking the blacksmith's fires. And as she did, the fires spread from the forge to his hairy arms, burning off all the hair. And blackbird laughed her ass off, because he looked ridiculous with hairless arms.
The Great Bear
If you ever go for a hike in bear country, the Park Ranger may tell you to wear a bell on your ankle to ward off bears. But can a little bell really frighten a full-grown grizzly bear?
The Athabascans of Alaska tell the story that there was once a Great Bear named Shesh Desna. She was so big that when she stood on her hind legs, Mount Denali itself would cower in her shadow. When Shesh Desna was hungry, she would take giant bites out of a glacier. When she was thirsty, she would drink an entire volcanic lake. And when Shesh Desna roared, a whole forest of spruce trees would tremble in fear and drop all of their needles at once.
The brown bears of Alaska were all her children, and she promised them they would never go hungry.
"How can you promise this," they asked, "We are not as large as a mountain nor as fearsome as a volcano. The salmon are plenty, but they are nimble and easily swim away from us. Is there no prey that is slow enough for us to catch?"
"There is," said Shesh Desna, "And I will make it so you can find it easily, for it will announce its presence with a gentle jingle jangle. This sound shall be your dinner bell."
And with that, Shesh Desna transformed herself into a friendly-looking Park Ranger. To this day, she travels from park to park, counseling tourists to wear bells. She also encourages them to buy "bear spray," which is actually just a rebranding of Silly String. For Shesh Desna knew that firing Silly String at an attacking bear is a hilarious way for a hiker to spend their last few moments.
With warmest regards,
Zach
