It has been too long... far too long... since you have faced up to the SCREEEEES of the Love Vulture.

The gods tolerate him because he gives you that PSA that love is not fair. The heart wants what it wants. The DNA coils the way it coils.

His talons close on the beating hearts of star crossed lovers... he lifts into the air with the great *FLAPP FLAPP FLAPP* SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE

And a short power dive later, the walls of his temple are again splattered with True Love's hearts.

Ohhh heed my words. Read the tale! Guard your poor frail hearts from the talons of evil!

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You know how it is... you think he is just misunderstood. That there is some good in him. In the vanity and overconfidence of your youth you leave him milk and cookies. You put out a big hershey's kiss and wait for him to come down the chimney like some avian Santa Claus. As you lay deep under your covers dreaming of sugar plums.

But then you hear that tell tale *CRASH* as he lands on your roof *CLATTER* As his talons dislodge bits of your roof onto the cobbled streets below. *SHOOF* as he careens down your chimney in a trice.... *KAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAH tinkle* As the milk and cookies go flying from one decisive strike with his starboard wing!

In that moment you find whether you act or freeze in the headlights of evil. SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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Now you think that I have lost poise. That talking about such a menace has made me sloppy.

What about the Hershey's kiss? That you thought was the ultimate deflector and so got extra large.

After he has done the awful act upon you. That which will not be described here. After...

He will sit with relaxed manner in your breakfast nook and eat the kiss in small darting bites. He saw it before he went into your chamber. You know he saw it.

But it is a sign of how horribly formidable and twisted he is that all he has done to you was done with the anticipation of enjoying that treat in your nook just after.

I don't know. It taxes me to write each word. Maybe I should just depart this vale of tears and let others carry on the fight. I have done my part over the years.

But then I think of beautiful Pamela. So many years ago. Just Pamela. And my resolve quickens!

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Yes I see what you mean... The tale of Pamela is gut wrenching. Not for the faint of heart.

It is also not wise to disclose the location of the horrid site of Vultarian worship. The hub of the spoke of dominance of that newly reinvigorated order.

I will retreat to my chambers and ruminate. Just ruminate. On what can and should be said.
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But something must be said. The region near to Valentine's Day is especially fraught.

When we fear, my ch1ldren, when we fear danger from the sky... the safest bet is to rise above it all in abstraction.

The Love Vulture of course describes a concrete ideal in a Platonic sense. I do not have to tell YOU that he captures the ouvre of the incessant incandescent Heavyside deltoidism of the embryonic design heavy NeoCambrian morphospace! In fact he is the epitome of it.

So what are we to do? Cower in our homes? Separate from our loved ones for the entire month of February?

Yes it is true that his power function peaks right now. Temporally this is a suboptimal time for engagement.

Of course this will provoke the foolhardy among you to moon him in the street right at the most dangerous of times. What can I do but just give a fatherly tut tut tut and a wink. The Universe protects the young and foolish till they come of age.

In emoticonspeak the optimistic of you will assume:

I strongly advise you do not do this. Especially in February.

But if he does swoop down it is already too late. No cries for will change your fate.

I personally am immune by now. But I will nevertheless meditate in my chambers as I begin the procedure developed by the monks of Navaare for protection. It is a time for solitude I am afraid. For discipline. For rigor.

Good luck. I know you can overcome if you are worthy
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Beware the fanatic of any stripe at all times. It is a sign of a dangerous Age when you find yourself forced to band with one group of zealots or another. When the middle ground is not allowed.

Even in defeating a clear imbalance promulgated by fanatics, one must not let up on vigilance. Lest the winning side veer into the same type of mania in the other direction unobstructed.

In that spirit, I must undo some overcompensation I have indulged in. Consider how I have named our avian friend. Sheer propaganda. He would never accept that appellation.

He would argue and correctly so, that he is no carrion feeder. That is the insult that I have made in some fun at his expense. He is not a carrion feeder because he actively slays the relationship. Or he actively fosters the wrong relationship. He would say he is a predator. More like an eagle than a vulture. He would say that he possesses all the strengths and virtues of a top of the food chain predator. Speed, sharpness of vision, high firepower, cleverness.

While I would fight him at every turn, I will not deny him this argument. It is part of taking his threat seriously. It is part of mustering the right defense to his attack.

Have you not seen the tiny blackbird take on a big raven? Turning faster and putting that big bird to flight. The blackbird knows his strengths and his adversary's. You probably would bet against him until you saw one encounter firsthand. All the mother blackbird has to do is quickly communicate to her offspring her tricks and the crow will never outfly them.

Bruce Lee would have you be water. I'd rather you be the blackbird.

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From the comment section of the Love Vulture site:

pucedick41: The Love Vulture ripped out our hearts during a trip to Barcelona. Are they known to do that?

bobsshower19: Any vulture does that to me and I'll punch him right in the nose!

kikishiki22: Ewwww how gauche! Is that your answer to everything? Punch it in the nose?

freddyfingers99: People who don't punch vultures make me sick!

ronrun34: I got a rock.

scoobyhoo: run! rultures! rultures everyraire!

francois42: Thahts raht. Vultaires. Vutalires evairywhaire!

ClydeCimblexx: You punch my vulture and I'll air you out... Texas style!

Bubaboiee2: Rock da casbah Rock da casbah. The vultures don't lahk eet. Rock da casbah. Rock da casbah.

And so... as the sun slowly sinks in the west... we take leave of the thread and all of its implications. All things come to an end. The balm returns again to Gilead.

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Vultures fly. Tyrants leer and grab: "mine mine MINE!!!!" Birds of a feather.

Video. Books. Even the tales of old relatives are not enough. Mankind is fated to endure cycles of it.

It is marked nonetheless. The swell that has gone nearly out will rise up again someday. As long as the ocean lives.

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They wanted to rule the world... but couldn't keep a grocery store stocked in their showplace city. Half a city not theirs thrived and sparkled. Their half was dreary and stagnant. They had to build a wall to keep the people in. Good riddance to that regime.

The economic lesson of this and other examples was learned. Freer markets. But, shockingly, there persisted for some time after an attachment to autocratic governments. A placement of the state over individual liberties. An odd reluctance to notice the benefits of distributing and checking power. Weird moral equivalences where butchering rivals and the press could be forgotten if enough swagger and bare chested bravado was displayed whilst doing it. The facade of stability under the iron fist somehow cherished over responsible laboring to be free and embracing the thriving chaos of it with courage and conviction.

Bad... really bad value judgements. Ayn Rand to the 5th power and Thomas Paine in the denominator in exponential. And that was in the more fortunate societies.

It was an Age of Embarrassment to the enlightened dwelling within it. As they contemplated meeting Thomas Paine in the afterlife and having to explain themselves.



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What a privilege it is to be able to see true leadership, courage, and moral power of a beset people. A reminder that the smallest state, the humblest individual can rock the world by lucid action. Here you see what a well-regulated militia was always intended to be. This is why Hannibal could never enter Rome even as he shredded legion after legion in the countryside.

From such seeds can come a wave that defines the age and makes the after life meeting with Paine easier.

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