THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

1(A Psalm of David.)

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

 

I Require Art's photo.
I Require Art with Timothy Paul and 2 others.

Konstantin Somov (Russian; Art Nouveau, Symbolism, World of Art Movement, 1869-1939): Evening Rendezvous (Date Night).

World of Art Movement: http://bit.ly/28QgcfH

·

Ernie Taylor caricature of the Roving Reporter (me) putting skis on geese, feeding corn to the public in general, with a glass of red wine and two dogs…. Goes with story: I WAS GOING TO SEND THIS STORY IN BY PONY EXPRESS, BUT THEY SHOT ALL THE PONIES… living on the shores of Lake Nipissing with one blanket, two dogs and three bottles of wine.

Walker Ballantine's photo.
  1. Walker Ballantine's photo.
    Walker Ballantine's photo.
    Walker Ballantine's photo.
    Walker Ballantine's photo.

 

 

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(THE USE OF MINDSHOCKS IS NOT APPROVED BY THE F.D.A.  OR THE A.M.A. — SO DOCTORS REFER PATIENTS TO ME ON THE  Q.T.)

                                                              
                 I`ve been through older unpublished Roving Reporter Rant
stories.  They need a little more variety
because I`ve been trying to get away
from my frequent musings on Sadomasochism and Religion,
“the Whip and the Cross” type stories 
         It`s not bad enough that I`m a pervert – a sexual deviant, I`m a religious fanatic, too! This aberrant combination is guaranteed to not warm up the neighbours – especially when
I start chanting at 2:00A.M. during the new moon, approaching
the summer solstice.
                                                   *
         I`m now more comfortable with the balance between these extremes in my own psyche. That`s probably why I`m
not “institutionalized” anymore. Years ago one reader wrote the paper in a letter to the editor, saying: “This isn`t funny.  This man should be institutionalize!”
         Funny thing, I was institutionalized about
six months later… they caught me and put me right
in the booby hatch. Strange, no?
       (Remember song – “They`re Coming to Take Me Away”)
*
AND THEN THERE ARE THE OTHER “TALES OF THE ROVING REPORTER” stories.
                                                       *
         I used to pretend I was sleeping by the Big Lake up here (Lake Nipissing)… on the shore with three bottles
of wine sometimes with a blanket, sometimes with
a two dogs.
                                                        *
 ****        Have you ever given a dog some of your dinner,
and the dog wouldn`t eat it?                
                                                      Ha! Ha! I have.
              
                                                        *
        
         In the fantasy  now, I`m living
on the sandy shore of that 90 mile lake, and I`m tucked in…more or less with the dogs
 and now  only two bottles of wine… and I`m trying to get
an article down to the office  (of THE TALK OF THE TOWN PRESS) and there`s no way
I can make it.
               The wind`s blowing up like a bastard… I hope
no Wendego howls tonight… 
               Now it`s morning and no one to talk to out here
on the sandy heath, no one to send on an errand. 
            I walk a mile to call a taxi…. except it`s more than a mile… It`s way more than a mile.  I feel I`ve fallen off the map…. and now I`m into a different time zone.. and 
I`m in a desert that has never been recorded, on a road
that no one knows…through a time warp that no one remembers…
          I`m exhausted.  I`m hung-over like
a motherfucker. My mouth is so dry my tongue is looking
around for company.  The tip of my tongue sticks
to the back of my tooth.  It`s like I`ve been stuck in
the desert for 40 days…. I fall to my knees… rest
with my face in the sand..       I hear a car door slam. The driver is standing
over me… I see… I see the glint of something
smooth and fine ,,,, It`s a woman in a short skirt
and nylons… She has fine legs but I  I cannot see properly.
Gasping, I manage to sit up.
       I hand her the story and  say: “Don`t worry about me!
Get this story in to the Talk of the Town Press. It has to reach the press by 8:45 this morning !” 
        Can you get it there for me?
       The mystery woman nods silently… She sets off
across the desert with her precious cargo… This time
I do  notice her legs….I scratch my head with incomprehension…
                                             *       

The first words in the paper the next morning I recognized.
I had scratched them down myself the day before.

The words were:
       
           “I WAS GOING TO SEND THIS STORY IN BY PONY

EXPRESS, BUT THEY SHOT ALL THE PONIES.”
              
                This whole tale about sleeping on the shores
of Nipissing (as terminal drunks have been known to do)

is part fantasy and partly true.

                                          *
…Sleeping with  a blanket (that how you spell blank et??? surely not)
                Having my wine delivered by boat—- and
attempting to get stories off by return boat.
                It`s not so bad now I got a shack.   And I stole
2 gallons of gas — so I can inhale the fumes,
when my spirits fade — AS THEY`RE SURE TO DO
SOON AS I GET WET DOWN IN THIS PLACE…
              Fuck!   I better dig a hole and light a fire,
do it in the shack… pretend I`ve got a stove. Steal 
a rack from a used  stove in a dump – soon as that fucker comes back with the boat….
            I`ll borrow his  22… shoot a few birds and muskrats,
make a stew. Now I`m thinking!    

(Yeah, right!)
*
              This is the kind of story that used to get those
cards and letters rolling in   (to the editors)
demanding police action
*
Hank staggers out of the shack…
           “I got a friend who boiled a pigeon for about
2 hours – he said, “Stink!  Did it ever stink!`
                 “Ya gotta take the feathers off em first!” I tell him, you can`t just cook them like they`re some sort
of microwave dish…. there`s stuff you gotta
take out of those birds — the bowels would be a nice
start- take those out & ya got a chance…”
               The dog`s definitely hungry. I can
tell by the way he stares at me… those mournful eyes.
Perhaps tonight he won`t turn up his nose at my dinner….
JESUS, WHERE AM I?

                                            *
                  Soon as I can get to a scanner, I`ll 
scan some of the “Roving Reporter in the Bush” tales,
and the comic sketches drawn by Ernie Taylor of me in
hot pursuit of various stories.
               (He got the “mad intensity” which is hard
to get, I`m told.  Soon as someone points a camera at
me I smile like an innocent schoolboy.)
                 Of course, looking at me these days, I`m
not fooling anyone.
                  Maybe I wasn`t fooling anybody when I was
a schoolboy. I had one Grade 2 teacher who hated me
on sight!  Maybe she got a glimpse of the mind behind
the mask – the innocent schoolboy act…

*******************************************

WHIPPING MELISSA
    
        I wrote for 2 hours the other morning – a great
true scene of whipping my 2nd wife atop a cliff, near
a waterfall in the spring – with 20 tourists approaching.  That girl sure did have a set of lungs!
        I had to wrap things up fast….She was screaming…
like I hadn`t told her what I was going to do to her…

                                       *
Ah, but some of the tourists were running like
they were trying to “save” her.  They should have
saved me.  I was the one married to her…

                                      *
        The problem with people who want tot try S&M,
they hear it`s sexy… that the PAIN turns to PLEASURE…
if you get caned in the right spot…

       They’re right, but NOT RIGHT AWAY!
 It`s going to hurt a lot first… And that`s when you
spend a little quiet time alone and tell yourself
how sorry you are for all the evil things you`ve
done… (No!  I`m kidding!)
         Anyway Melissa was losing it, and tourists
were almost making it to the crest of the hill,  so I did the
only logical thing.  I put Melissa in the trunk of the car.
Out of sight, out of mind… **  Ho! Ho!
***************

FEMALE ORGASM CLINIC

MINDSHOCKS AND A CURE FOR SMOKING

_________________________________________________

       Then later I went on to describe my use of Mindshocks,
working with a trained psychologist, to cure tortured
women, tortured by their familial repressions… how
Mindshocks help to set these ladies free – by scaring the
shit out of them, if they need it.
       There knees are not pressed so tightly together
after that. And if the women have a tendency to look
at the floor – they don`t look at the floor so much
after the first Surprise.
       No, it`s too dangerous to look at the floor.  They
look behind them and all around them, and then they see
my trained assistants with notepad ,
padded handcuffs and a short cattle prod, which
is easy to hide when you tuck it up the sleeve of
your white labcoat…   when they see that…
      Some of them try to run, but they don`t get far. It`s
rare for someone to get away, like Alice. Afterall, she`d already paid the fee.  Also, there`s the fact that I`m the
only shop in three cities who performs this sort
of high-intensity, quick-fix psychological procedure.
Hell, I might be the only clinic anywhere, who promises to
cure your orgasm problems in ten days, or you money
back guaranteed.
                                             *
       After several years, most of the women who have
attended the KLEAR YOUR MIND ORGASM CLINIC
after a year or two, I get thank you notes… sometimes
the letters are long and the thanks are effusive;  sometimes they even try to find me!
          But right off the back after the procedure, they
usually   hate my guts…  That`s why I have to get
the money first.
          In my one unsuccessful case, out of 19 delighted and appreciative women I got a letter
that was not a thank-you note…It looked like she had
a lawyer or  an expensive secretary type it.  The words,
“a long and enduring hatred” appeared.
            I`ll be seeing her again, but it might take
years, and, all flippancy aside, she has a serious problem,
which will not get better on its own – even if she shoots
her father, or her uncle, whoever she`s sure has caused her such difficulties.

                                           *
               Speaking of shooting, TRANSFERENCE can be a problem in this specific situation. When she turns her
compulsive spotlight in my direction, it`s quite likely
she`ll try to shoot me. This has happened to me with
members of the fair sex before, but never in a professional relationship.
              I can feel her now, prowling the side streets and
parking lots around my old place, a rifle with a scope in her trunk.

               I should never have taught the lady to shoot.
             I  had nothing but her best interests at heart. However –  it might appear  different in her mind –  in her enraged,vindictive an extremely pressured state of mind.
             I`ll have to be very careful
when I leave the compound, any time soon.
*
               I fear for the poor husband who marries Alice,
who is an extremely attractive, wealthy, apparently stable woman…  Until she is cured, that is.  And she is so very close to a cure.  Just give me 3 more nights with her

in the clinic.
               You see the husband, when he gets naked with
her to have sex – and when sex turns out to be a disaster –
it`s hard to maintain an erection if you are staring into the
eyes of a woman who looks suspiciously like a black
panther, preparing to eat your spleen.
*
               I have my assistants. Gentle Doctor Laura is
available to placate patients – Laura`s services are  always necessary after the initial Mindshock.
               The women naturally think they are in the
middle of some weird Machiavellian Nazi experiment
after I lay the electrodes down to tender parts
of their bodies.
               It`s almost all for show… Almost!
                                          *
                Thinking again of that poor naked man
before Alice’s glowering onslaught.
                Without my instruments I`d feel naked, too.
I use well-fashioned and durable sexual implements… An electric pulse and probe are frequently necessary… and of course there are canes and crops. Electric cuffs may be needed… restraints…prescribed stimulants… padded restraints.
                 Sometimes I bring in professional studs,
sometimes  distractions…    Sometimes I use power tools…

                                        *
                  
                 My team are pros at quickly
treating any medical difficulties

                                          *
 

               Sometimes after the
first surprise PROBE and ZAP, the patient starts to shriek…
and the words LAWSUIT and CHARLATAN often come up… and she`s right.

With the amount of  of electrical
and medical lab equipment we have assembled here…
not to mention the powerful prescription drugs. She’s right
that all my methods are not approved.
                   When the patient starts to shriek “LAWSUIT” 
after the first blast of  current up her ass, I hit her with the
Haldol…
                   And soon as they awaken and she`s having
breakfast in her green backless johnny gown, I hit her
with the blast again….. ZOWEEE!  MINDSHOCK!
delivered to the lower unit…
                     I have doubled the current going thru the
electric probe this time ..  .
                              I told you, I get results, and I get `em fast!
                    I must break down all resistance. And we’re
experts at my lab. 
                                           *

         I`m the one who drafts the MEDICAL RELEASE
FORM, and if I do say so myself, it`s a beauty.
       I lost one lovely twisted soul 13 months ago… I
happened to spot her sprinting across the lawn.
Sometimes you overdo the initial shock –  but really the
shock has to be administered in a closed environment.
      An intelligent woman can often sense something
coming.   Maybe it`s the snickers of the queer male nurses.
(I keep calling them gay – they insist they`re not gay; 
they`re Queer. I`m not sure what the difference is 
and I`m not sure I want to know).
         William S.  Burroughs wrote the book, “QUEER!” 
 and we all respected him.
        I hired the male nurses because they did such a special job of nabbing fleeing patients at the research hospital –
they showed such gusto and skill.  (They nabbed
me more than once and I can run like a rabbit when
I`ve got a good head of steam up. Of course, with my
knees strapped together they had the advantage…)
                                            *
        Yes, I make fun. But these women suffer.
And, understand something about my methods:
I claim to cure you quick.  And I do.  I will.
My team hasn`t had a failure yet.(With one exception
and I`m not finished with her yet.) If my
methods appear to be more like theater than
medicine, well so be it!
         I`ve always wanted to get into the theater,
but this is a hell of a way to do it!
*
         As I`ve mentioned before, my clinic is not
sanctioned by the A.M.A. or even by the F.D.A.
I do get referrals from some doctors, but
it`s always on the q.t.    That should be enough
initials for one article.
                                             *
         Word of mouth provides most of my trade –
people who roam the City late at night in the
black-walled darkness of the more unknown bars,
 red flickering candles, vampire suits,
and laughter and shouts and confidential talk
when the band stops playing.
                                           *
           “It worked for Alice.   She feels a whole lot
better now… She says he was brilliant, a genius.
She said he quoted Dr Wilhelm Reich and his
orgone therapy as well as Mesmer and the Marquis
de Sade.
            ” Now she wants sex as soon as she sees a
white coat, or hears a certain song
only the doctor knows…”
            ” You`re kidding, Alice – that has to
be unethical – keeping a hypnotic trigger secret!”
           “It`s certainly better  keeping it secret –
than telling everybody what it is at the cross-roads!”
Alice laughs out loud and slaps her knee.
           “Actually, Jo,  that was a joke about the secret
song.”   She pats Jo`s hand.
             Johanna:   “What`s gotten into you?
You haven`t been snorting that drug, inhaling ha! ha! gas again?”
              “Relax!   I feel fine.  I feel great, better
than I have in over a decade. He not only
showed me how to orgasm, he cured my two
pack a day smoking habit….`
             “My God! How`d he do that?”
              Madelaine looked down… along the line of
her leg and boot:
            “He showed me how to put something
else in my mouth.”

                                            *

              Johanna sat back and said:  “You don`t mean… …
Do you still see him?”
               “Oh, yes twice a week.”
               

               “For help with your orgasm suppression…
               
                “Oh no,  I`m cured!” Alice laughs  I can`t tell you how cured I am!”
              
                 ” Why`d you still see him then?” Johanna asks.  She`s looking a little flushed.
           
                “He`s helping me find a cure for my smoking!”Alice smiles.
                                               *
                                                              (C)2013 by W.G. Milne

RUMOURS OF ALBINO SHARKS – SUPERSTITION IN THE DARK CONTINENT

CHAPTER ONE

 

                     Sighting of Blind Jimmy?

RUMOURS OF ALBINO SHARKS – SUPERSTITION IN THE DARK CONTINENT

“I have immortal longings in me.”

“I will praise any man who will praise me.”                                    William Shakespeare

The doctor who lives next door was shouting over into my yard, when he saw me standing naked with coffee cup in hand, gazing off towards the vistas in the East.

                                                      *
He was shouting and he’s usually a quiet man, so this was significant.  He called: “WHO WAS THAT MANIAC DRIVING YOUR CAR OUT LAST NIGHT AT 3A.M? HE GOT SOME FOOL TO PLAY THE BAGPIPES ACROSS THE BAY!”

                                                       *
“THEN HE LIFTED A HUGE STONE OUT OF THE BACK OF YOUR CAR WITH ONE HAND!  HE KICKED OPEN YOUR DOOR AND THREW THE BOULDER IN! IT LOOKED
LIKE A HUGE INDIAN HEAD WITH FEATHERS!”

                                                         *
Then in a stage whisper  he says, “I was going to call – but some things shouldn’t be spoken of… So I’m maintaining silence, as we agreed.” Then he said something disturbing, he said, “He looked like some dark Caliban.”
                                                             *  

                                                               *
             People can get up to some pretty strange things up here in the dark, when there’s nothing to do except look at the ducks for entertainment.

                                                            *
The bad weather around here often comes suddenly from the east. Quickly lightning begins to strike along the shore, and if you’re in a tin boat floating perilously over this deep lagoon, you’d better get the hell out.

                                                              *
Actually, so far the lake is called bottomless. The crew hired by the government shows up every four or five years and they try to find the bottom with heavy measured chains – they  have never had enough chains to find the bottom.

                                                               *
I’m thinking, “In this ‘modern age’ surely there must be a way to measure depth more quickly.

                                                                *
But a family runs the business and I guess they are funded by the federal government, so they keep trying in the old way. I’m thinking, what about sonar? But the chains are too much fun. They provide a Gothic flavor to the whole operation… And who wants to find the bottom anyway?

*
*
*
*

           Sometimes sitting the local bar, 1,000 feet down a dirt road from my house, I sit quietly and listen. The people from along the peninsula keep whispering two tables over from me about, “the best place to hide a body.”

                                                       *
I already know, but I’m not about to interrupt the good clean fun of my neighbours.
This is the land of 100,000 lakes and a million miles of muskeg. Bodies are lost up here even when no one is trying to hide them.

                                                       *
I also hear them talk about the fresh water sharks that come and go across vast distances. After all, the caverns beneath our lake ( as everybody knows) are directly connected with caverns beneath rivers and lakes approaching the Gulf of Mexico.

                                                        *
I heard Suzie, a fine looking lusty lass with muscular thighs and knees that can crack walnuts, I heard her whisper to 3 girls from the northern volleyball team, she said: “In the winter, that’s where they go to feed. Those poor Cajuns! Should we warn them?”

                                        (C) 200o-2016 by W.G. Milnee79e6-newpics2009rovingreporterlogo005

CAWS AND HOOTS AT FIVE A.M. LOSE YOUR SHINY KEYS FOR HOUSE OR CAR? THE CROW KNOWS WHERE THEY ARE.

from:

 

CAWS AND HOOTS AT FIVE A.M…. LOST YOUR SHINY KEYS? THE CROW WILL KNOW



         The gulls sweep in from the island
at 5:45 A.M.  They come especially on
garbage days, when the fat bags are out for pickup…
          They beak and claw right through the bags
all right, and chew the tasty morsels. And then
the crows come down and there is a nasty
ruckus – fighting over the tasty bits… dragging
the garbage bags down the street, if there is
a bit of a wind.
         They come and wash their beaks in the small pond
on the roof in front of me. I’m not sure of the pecking
order between gulls and crows. I’ll have to watch
more closely.
          A hungry or pissed off raven will kill a pigeon
and eat its entrails. It’s not a pretty. Of course,
they don’t do such things in front of me
if they know I’m watching.  They might lose their pond
privileges. Not sure what these birds are
thinking, but, trust me, they’re smart.  With
fast beaks. They can remember 20 to 200 hiding
places, after they steel your car keys…. the ones you left
gleaming in the sun.  You won’t know where they
are… But the crow will know.
        So crows are smart and gulls are fast. Throw a
french-fry up in the air for a gull, he’ll catch it
as he’s flying by. No muss, no fuss.
I saw a gull eat a dead mouse once. I threw it in the
air. The gull let it land, then picked it up and dipped
it in my rooftop pond. Once he (she?) dipped the 
mouse in the water, he swallowed it whole… wet
and slippery as it was. It just slid down it’s throat.
       I caught 27 mice in a trap that day…threw them all
to the gulls. Half an hour later, all the mice had gone.
       I like their savage caws and hoots early in
the morning. They remind me  who I am.
Sitting by my window with a book and fluids
 at five A.M.



                                             (C)2016 by W.G.Milne

A GREAT TRIP – TROUBLE WITH THE REF

STORY TO JOHN:

I remember one game I saw you play,,,,The other parents were getting nervous about sitting with me.. (Like I cared!)

*

You tripped a guy right in front of me. I was delighted, and I wasn’t quiet about it. The day before I was shouting insults at the ref… (working on just a mickey of rye). The next morning when I showed up….I was in the front row… my nose pressed against the glass….

The ref skated over to me and said: “You’re back?”

*PAST THE SECOND REEF (4)

             I gave him a shit-eating grin and said: “Yes, I am.” 

We both laughed a little. Then he buggered off to do his job.