Frides of Arch -the Wakefield Doctrine-

March 16, 2024 By clarkscottroger

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clark, scotts and rogers)

Detail of the painting “God reprimanding Adam and Eve”, by F. Zampieri (1625)

Yeah, you are correct. You have scene the image above before. In one of our Unicorn Challenge posts. Superstition is the religion of the desperately unimaginative.

That being said, you do know what Friday means: ‘the Unicorn Challenge‘., do you not? It is the day-of-the-week when jenne and ceayr go all ‘June and Ward Cleaver’ on the blogosphere and invite a small group of talented writers to get al TAT on the photo below.

Anyway. Two Hundred fifty words is what they allow us to write a story keying off the photo below.

Yeah? Well, no matter what that old saying, choice is curse of the Garden.

The man stood on the rock. The wind was calm, the sea was flat. The sky was a uniform, overcast grey; so much so, there was no horizon. Anywhere. In any direction, except landwards. The man had zero interest in that direction.

When there is no horizon, only gravity can provide direction. Taking the hint from this most fundamental of forces, the man looked down. Without a bright sun overhead, jealously casting reflections on anything it felt threatened by, he could see to the bottom. Like most of his world this particular morning, it consisted of unexceptional variations on the shade of grey. The exception to this almost blankscape were three red stars.

A phrase from a proverb, long favored by nuns charged with instilling the moral guilt demanded by Mother Church of it’s youngest, came, quite unbidden, “Well I made a difference to that one’.

The man laughed and nearly lost his balance. He noticed his rock pedestal was smaller. Time and Tide, he mused, time and tide.

Feeling his resolve recede, he glanced over the increasing gap between his stand and dry land. Let go, he thought.

On the shore, a boy’s voice met his thought, “Let go! I’ll throw” Childish laughter and wagging tail wrote a couplet of love and innocence as young human and ageless canine played on the beach.

He stepped into the ocean betting that solid land would welcome him.

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: clarkscottroger, personality types, self-improvement, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six]

March 15, 2024 By clarkscottroger

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise with one thing on her mind: sentence count (Hint: rhymes with Six)

Prompt word:

REMOTE

“Hello?”

If one wanted a specific, though not overly-comprehensive, insight into how the tall, thin man related himself to the world around him, the interrogative appendage to his query, stepping from the darkening hallway at the far-end of the bar, would’ve spoken volumes.

“I’d swear this place was crowded with Proprietors and guests,” Lips pressed into a non-committal expression, (another classic tell), he walked past the small stage to a round wooden table upon which was a laptop, a remote control and a high-quality embossed white card, “Press Me” in simple but elegant script.

Looking around the empty Café, the thought, ‘Better safe than sorry’ intruded, serving double duty as both a cautionary admonition and a suitable, if not regrettable, inscription on, say, an anniversary watch or, perhaps, in thrall to a fit of congenital irony, the transom of a sailboat; the Proprietor pushed the red button on the remote.

A live video feed lit the display screen, a title scrolling up “Live and Remote… as opposed to Remote and Alive… the Travels of the Four Proprietae: Chris and Mimi, jenne and… Denise…” music from the seventies began to play.

Somewhere on the far side of the globe, the Raconteuse sat at a wrought iron table on the edge of a formal garden in the gathering dusk, smiled, waved and said, ” Jenne, Denise and Mimi, just left, they should be home soon. Don’t leave the kitchen a mess now.”

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story “…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood” [Part 1.5]

March 14, 2024 By clarkscottroger

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise with one thing on her mind: sentence count (Hint: rhymes with Six)

If you’re a new Reader (or a regular Reader who might want to refresh their memory) here’s an opportunity to read the story Tom and I are writing from the beginning. The link to ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘.

Prompt word:

REMOTE

I came to on my back, covered in girl and had a flashback to a dormitory-morning from my road-less-travelled college phase when a girl from my Intro-Anthro class walked in with two coffees, one donut and a small pipe of hashish; at the present moment, unlike the morning in a distant dorm, all I had to go on were a bunch of 8×10 still-shots of memory: riding in the back of a speeding van, excessively bright lights, and, finally, the vehicle tipping over and sliding to a stop.

My eyes opened, (only the one time, as opposed to the continuous, seamlessly-repeating-sequence that some drugs think you’ll love), and I took stock of the interior of the old van that most recently served as our getaway car: above me, a girl-shaped pile of arms and legs and breasts and such, to my left, Rue hanging upside-down from the empty space where her door used to be and the ‘…and Friends’ limey who was kinda playing the concierge to our misadventures this third night in London.

Before I could say, ‘What the bloody hell’, (I took a certain professional pride in my ability to blend in with the locals, even when they had glowing arms and a total crush on the woman I was assigned to protect), I heard my boss, Lou Caesare, putting a footnote to my instructions to make certain no harm comes to Rue DeNite, ‘Assess and attack, the best defense is a dead opponent’.

As time returned to one-second-equals-one-sixtieth-of-a-minute, I heard: Rue laughing as she jumped to the street, that Moonshadow guy asking her about something I couldn’t see, a really strange sound approaching the van and, from my prisoner-ette a surprisingly lucid, “My name is Isla Sora, implant remote number 314159…”

At that moment, the back door of the van disappeared, so I unlocked my prisoner’s ankle ‘cuffs and pulling her along, got out and stood on reasonably-solid pavement where the English guy was pointing towards the back-passenger door of a fairly nice SUV; the source of the strange noise turned out to be a fricken rocket launcher and overhead we were treated to a midnight sun that made a noise like a big-assed ceiling fan.

I felt two things as I moved towards our newest getaway car, my Glock pressing against my back instead of it’s holster and disappointment that I let my prisoner get the drop on me while still in handcuffs… total déjà vu from that college morning so long ago.

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story “…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood” [Part 1]

March 13, 2024 By clarkscottroger

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise with one thing on her mind: sentence count (Hint: rhymes with Six)

Prompt word:

REMOTE

[GCHQ London Branch]
The city of London, with an estimated 627,707 cctv cameras, remote microphones and drones nesting in the clouds, could be thought of as, ‘the city that never sleeps’ but that characterization would not be fair, (or accurate), to either it’s citizenry or it’s surveillance system; in the case of the former, one’s sanity requires the personal privacy of sleep, while the latter thrives on constant awareness, albeit digital and thoroughly un-human.

“Yes, Leftenant Custos, something the AI can’t explain, I assume,” The LMN (Live Monitor Nexus) was a subterranean hectare of monitors and operators; the Watch Supervisor, Colonel Villicus, had sedgway’d down and across the ruler-straight aisles of the heart of the GCHQ until he stood behind the young man.

“The oddest thing, sir, a common speeder at first, but when I ran it’s path backwards, multiple gunshots, originating here,” the image on his monitor was a single family house and a very expensive car with four flat tires in the driveway; anticipating his supervisor’s question, “Yes those are two dead bodies on the opposite side of the street, but that’s not the oddest thing,” running the tape forward showed a van pulling out of the driveway, both men cringed as it sideswiped a parked car without slowing, racing out of the neighborhood until it was in a commercial area when, seemingly for no reason, tipped over and, sliding along on it’s side, came to rest in the middle of an empty intersection.

“Now, watch this,” pulling back on a joystick control, the perspective zoomed up and away sufficiently to bring two additional vehicles, a motorized rocket launcher and a helicopter into view; Lt Custos wisely decided not to comment on the rarity of such equipment on a London village street on a weeknight.

Colonel Villicus’s fingers flew over the keypad Velcro’d on his right wrist, activating an array of additional filters, including infrared, and the immediate result was the addition of the green-on-green silhouettes of four people, all moving towards a vehicle which, after a moment of hesitancy, sped in the opposite direction from the military-grade equipment.

A tone sounded from somewhere on, (or in), the person of the Supervisor, prompting a passable mime of a dog hearing an unexpected sound; resting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder he whispered, “Notify the locals, tell them this is a classified SAS training drill and all they need do is divert traffic until we give the all clear.”

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: clarkscottroger, Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Whensday -the Wakefield Doctrine-

March 13, 2024 By clarkscottroger

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

Remind us to discuss the principle of ‘more words get you more words’, in the context of the practice of writing.

This is kinda a RePrint/placeholder. Tonight is post our Six Sentence Serial installment (over at Denise’s Six Sentence Story bloghop).

before that:

the Doctrine is for you, not them.

the way that we relate ourselfs to the world around us (and the people who make it up) is the heart of the Wakefield Doctrine

speaking of heart, we all know that rogers exist in a reality of emotion, right? welll add to that, the quality of atemporality, i.e. they are, in their world, freed from the chains of: ‘dude, that was six years ago, let it go.’ In a lesser dramatic manner, of the three predominant worldviews, one more prone to say, ‘what did you mean when you said that’ (being a student of the Doctrine, you will be the position to surpass on the ‘said what’ and go right to the ‘said when?’)

unlike pretty much all the other popular personality schemes, schedules, systems and insights, the Wakefield Doctrine is not a club-shaped mirror.

Barber of Seville? sure give us a minute to look it up and paste it here.

got it! (lol … sometime we surprise our ownselfs…. this post… the last line.)

Il Barbiere di Siviglia

December 19, 2009

(“La ran la le ra la ran la la.”)

Largo al factotum della città.
Presto a bottega, ché l’alba è già.
Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere
per un barbiere di qualità!

Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, brayissimo;
fortunatissimo per verità!
Pronto a far tutto,
la notte e il giorno
sempre d’intorno,
in giro sta.

Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere,
vita più nobile, no, non si dà.
Rasori e pettini, lancette e forbici,
al mio comando tutto qui sta.

V’è la risorsa, poi, del mestiere
colla donnetta col cavaliere
Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere
per un barbiere di qualità!

Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono,
donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle:
Qua la parrucca. Presto la barba
Qua la sanguigna. Presto il biglietto
Figaro … Figaro
Son qua, son qua.
Figaro… Figaro…
Eccomi qua.
Ahimè, che furia!
Ahimè, che folla!
Una alla volta, per carità!
Figaro su, Figaro giù
Pronto prontissimo son come il fulmine:
sono il factotum della città.
Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, bravissimo;
a te fortuna non mancherà. ‘
(The above is from a Libretto from different source, if any Italian speaking Readers would Comment if above is even close to video lyrics)

I can explain! Really, I can give you a rational basis for todays…Post?

Look, some Posts are well planned and (hopefully) well executed expositions of an idea or a theme, something that says, ‘we have all been thinking about… now that you mention it… since you asked, the answer to your question is…’ A Post that answers questions or provides valuable information.
The previous Post (‘…Pulled out of San Pedro late one night..’) is a perfect example of a rational and reasonable little Post.

Today’s Post….maybe not as much.
But hey, there was the (…when the moon hit your eye like a big pizza pie…) that was a little bit of the, (as roger might say) ‘spontaneous conception.’ school of Post writing. And there have been other Posts that seem to show up in the morning, screaming like a chicken with it’s head cut off “…write about this…write about this!!” (Apologies to any PETA PALS, my sub-conscious apparently has managed to get an ‘outside line’, as we used to say in the day of rotary dial phones.)

But it is my Post and you are (my) Readers, so the least I can do is come up with some explanation as to why we are watching opera, lyrics in Italian, video with English sub-titles. Surely there is something in the path I followed this morning (to end up here) that will lend even the slightest patina of rationality.

No, no there isn’t.

So screw it. Here is how it all went down.
Minding my own business this morning and decided to listen to the ‘famous Barber of Seville song’. (There has got to be a secret ‘sons of Rossini’ sect out there planning to attack Warner Brothers and steal all the Looney Tune archives. Bugs and Company having single-handedly destroyed most of this (and other reasonably enjoyable) opera by having Bugs or Elmer (in drag no doubt) doing an acceptable (to my 6 year old Saturday morning cartoon watching ears) rendition of this and other Great Music.

Anyway, not really a fan of opera, but this particular morning as I listened to (Figaro’s Aria), I could hear lyrics! Not just ‘figaro, figaro’. Sure, the lyrics have been there all along, but this time I heard them. This Figaro guy, he was telling a damn story!

And whatever, sub-conscious energy switch was thrown, I was stuck.
I mean, it was instant the hell with work! Find out more about the opera, find a video, do whatever has to be done so that I can to do Post all about this fine piece of music.

So, here you have it. Figaro’s Aria with libretto included.

And, yes Figaro was totally a roger.