SREDNI VASHTAR

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor was silky and effete, and counted for little, but his opinion was endorsed by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, in perpetual antagonism to the foregoing, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things---such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dulness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.

Mrs. De Ropp would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him ``for his good'' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome. Conradin hated her with a desperate sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained an added relish from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian, and from the realm of his imagination she was locked out---an unclean thing, which should find no entrance.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.

The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.

After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian. ``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow, which she was ready to rebuke with a flow of excellent precepts and reasoning. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him; also because the making of it ``gave trouble,'' a deadly offence in the middle-class feminine eye.

``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.

``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.

In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont to chant his praises, tonight be asked a boon.

``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.

And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany went up: ``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.

``What are you keeping in that locked hutch?'' she asked. ``I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away.''

Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and forthwith marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:

Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.

And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the pæan of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.

``Tea is ready,'' said the sour-faced maid; ``where is the mistress?'' ``She went down to the shed some time ago,'' said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.

``Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!'' exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.

I don't think it is funny, sarcasm box or not.

As someone who avoided being involved with the Sift for YEARS because of "jokes" like this, now that I am involved, I speak up.

Bone thought you were funny. I did not. Not for me to censor.

But I don't censor myself either -- I speak up when I think something stinks. You don't have to agree with me. But I have the right to say it.

In reply to this comment by westy:
>> ^bareboards2:

To new or casual visitors to the Sift --
This is not typical of the Sift. I don't know if this comment was meant to be a "joke" or not. There is a mechanism for marking a comment as "sarcasm" -- it wasn't utilized for this comment. So I don't know if this sifter Westy is "joking" or not.
The Sift has guidelines against egregiously offensive speech; it can lead to being banned from the site.
The Sift also is fiercely proud of Americans' everyone's right to free speech. (Thanks, Boise-lib)
It puts folks like me in a quandary. I hate this comment, whether it is a "joke" or not. I believe in free speech.
I am posting my comment so that if you are new or a casual visitor, you will know that at least one person on the sift is appalled by this comment and doesn't know what to do. @<a rel="nofollow" href="http://dag.videosift.com" title="member since February 16th, 2006" class="profilelink"><strong style="color:#008800">dag.
What is weird is that this seems out of character for Westy. He's crusty and opinionated, not foul mouthed and ugly. It's almost as if someone has hacked into his account.

>> ^westy:
TYPICAL THING FOR A FAGGOT TO DO BRAIN WASH THERE CHILDREN WITH THE FAGOT AGENDA IF THEY LET JUSES INTO THERE HARTS THEY WOULD BE FREE OF THE EVIL GAY SPIRIT THAT POSSESS THEM.
PS..THE EARTH IS 6000 YEARS OLD



>> ^dag:

From years of interacting with Westy - I can tell you that this is definitely sarcastic parody - though he does live at the fringe of Poe's Law and without using the sarcasm box - it's hard to tell. It's also a troll. Sigh.>> ^bareboards2:
To new or casual visitors to the Sift --
This is not typical of the Sift. I don't know if this comment was meant to be a "joke" or not. There is a mechanism for marking a comment as "sarcasm" -- it wasn't utilized for this comment. So I don't know if this sifter Westy is "joking" or not.
The Sift has guidelines against egregiously offensive speech; it can lead to being banned from the site.
The Sift also is fiercely proud of Americans' right to free speech.
It puts folks like me in a quandary. I hate this comment, whether it is a "joke" or not. I believe in free speech.
I am posting my comment so that if you are new or a casual visitor, you will know that at least one person on the sift is appalled by this comment and doesn't know what to do. @<a rel="nofollow" href="http://dag.videosift.com" title="member since February 16th, 2006" class="profilelink"><strong style="color:#008800">dag.
What is weird is that this seems out of character for Westy. He's crusty and opinionated, not foul mouthed and ugly. It's almost as if someone has hacked into his account.

>> ^westy:
TYPICAL THING FOR A FAGGOT TO DO BRAIN WASH THERE CHILDREN WITH THE FAGOT AGENDA IF THEY LET JUSES INTO THERE HARTS THEY WOULD BE FREE OF THE EVIL GAY SPIRIT THAT POSSESS THEM.
PS..THE EARTH IS 6000 YEARS OLD




Not a troll , just think how bland the world would be if every comment or remark has a disclaimer and full exsplination next to it.

If sum one claims the world is 6k years old then they are ether being sarcastic or past the point of reasonable communication.

>> ^bareboards2:


The Sift also is fiercely proud of Americans' Everyone's right to free speech.

Comment hidden because you are ignoring dag. (show it anyway)

From years of interacting with Westy - I can tell you that this is definitely sarcastic parody - though he does live at the fringe of Poe's Law and without using the sarcasm box - it's hard to tell. It's also a troll. Sigh.>> ^bareboards2:

To new or casual visitors to the Sift --
This is not typical of the Sift. I don't know if this comment was meant to be a "joke" or not. There is a mechanism for marking a comment as "sarcasm" -- it wasn't utilized for this comment. So I don't know if this sifter Westy is "joking" or not.
The Sift has guidelines against egregiously offensive speech; it can lead to being banned from the site.
The Sift also is fiercely proud of Americans' right to free speech.
It puts folks like me in a quandary. I hate this comment, whether it is a "joke" or not. I believe in free speech.
I am posting my comment so that if you are new or a casual visitor, you will know that at least one person on the sift is appalled by this comment and doesn't know what to do. @dag.
What is weird is that this seems out of character for Westy. He's crusty and opinionated, not foul mouthed and ugly. It's almost as if someone has hacked into his account.

>> ^westy:
TYPICAL THING FOR A FAGGOT TO DO BRAIN WASH THERE CHILDREN WITH THE FAGOT AGENDA IF THEY LET JUSES INTO THERE HARTS THEY WOULD BE FREE OF THE EVIL GAY SPIRIT THAT POSSESS THEM.
PS..THE EARTH IS 6000 YEARS OLD

To new or casual visitors to the Sift --

This is not typical of the Sift. I don't know if this comment was meant to be a "joke" or not. There is a mechanism for marking a comment as "sarcasm" -- it wasn't utilized for this comment. So I don't know if this sifter Westy is "joking" or not.

The Sift has guidelines against egregiously offensive speech; it can lead to being banned from the site.

The Sift also is fiercely proud of Americans' everyone's right to free speech. (Thanks, Boise-lib)

It puts folks like me in a quandary. I hate this comment, whether it is a "joke" or not. I believe in free speech.

I am posting my comment so that if you are new or a casual visitor, you will know that at least one person on the sift is appalled by this comment and doesn't know what to do. @dag.

What is weird is that this seems out of character for Westy. He's crusty and opinionated, not foul mouthed and ugly. It's almost as if someone has hacked into his account.


>> ^westy:

TYPICAL THING FOR A FAGGOT TO DO BRAIN WASH THERE CHILDREN WITH THE FAGOT AGENDA IF THEY LET JUSES INTO THERE HARTS THEY WOULD BE FREE OF THE EVIL GAY SPIRIT THAT POSSESS THEM.
PS..THE EARTH IS 6000 YEARS OLD

Thanks. I will miss this guy something fierce. The whole country will.

In reply to this comment by JiggaJonson:
*promote Frankey
*demote the Airhead

In my particular specialty, I have no choice but to be my brother's keeper, which is as it should be. I treat with the same diligence the drug dealer shot by the police or the 5 year old child bitten by the family pet. Every physician I work with does the same. No medical decisions are based on anything other than what is in the best medical interest of the patient. My comments on personal responsibility are made from the perspective of my being a tax-paying citizen of a country that struggles under the weight of a medical system that is a bloated bureaucracy servicing a population of consumers with unrealistic expectations.
I totally agree with your comments on addiction. It's poorly understood and hard to treat. If we had a therapy that was effective, I'd be all for paying for it. But we don't. Psychological counseling is of little benefit. A person doesn't stop smoking, or lose weight, until they are ready. Too often it's because they have a debilitating disease caused by same. I have a few friends that smoke. I've tried to get them to quit. I've described the slow death of emphysema, the air hunger, feeling like you're running a race that never ends, although it does when you die. There's not many worse ways to go. But their response is the same, "I'm not ready to quit." Too bad.
One of the great misconceptions US citizens have, is the criticism that physicians are "controlled" or "puppets" of the system, that they receive kickbacks for referrals, etc. These people have never had experience trying to manage physicians, that's for sure. There's not a more fiercely independent group in any work force. They HATE being told what to do and they are the most ethical group of professionals I've ever encountered.

Catzilla may look fierce but he will poop exactly where I tell him.

I would just like to point out to the Sift Community that @BoneRemake, the illustrious, artistic, creative, musical, fiercely honest, impish and contrarian cooking machine that is boneremake... not only does he have all these fine qualities and skills....

HE IS LEVEL FIVE SILVER TONGUE.

You do not want to mess with a LEVEL FIVE SILVER TONGUE.

@chilaxe @artician
Not to get too involved in you diatribe, there are a few points I'd like to throw in.
1). Sleeping in your car is fine, in a pinch, Congrats to you for pushing through the strife. Fact is, you shouldn't to live like a third world refuge to get an education. Quite a few people out there have families, so this solution is not a solution. Living in one's car is by definition, "Homeless." No respectable employer will hire you without a permanent address. Besides that, for a person with a wife and one or two kids, this is NEVER an option.

2). Although student loans are extremely helpful, they aren't as easy to get as one might think. Without an address, next to impossible. Once you have the loan, paying it back is hard. It took me 13 years to pay back my loan (with interest). It''s one more expense on top of all the other living expenses. Getting an education does not automatically get you a good job right away. For me, it took years of stepping up job to job, working min-wage jobs and changing cities 3-4 times to get where I am. I'm finally in what would be considered a semi-decent job and I still can't afford decent food for my family and clothing. I myself have a couple pairs of shorts and no pant's at all - winter's coming and it's getting cold. (I'm not complaining, just stating facts.)

3). life's tough out there, and there is no denying that the economy is slouching, governments are mismanaged and corporations are running things. It's fact that the banks and leaders in charge are corrupt and stuffing their own pockets while the majority are all struggling to get half way up the pile that everyone is living on.

4). Race..., why race? race is irrelevant to this crisis. Yes it sucks that some white people have an advantage while it is also true that there are non-white people that have it better than some whites. Who cares. It's not race that determines this crisis, it's scruples. Those that have no problem stealing and screwing over others prosper first, while those who "would never do that," end up lower in the pile. It's the classic story of "Nice guy finishes last<./i>" If you don't screw someone over before they screw you over, they get ahead of you. If you are smart enough, are without scruples and have the fierce determination to crush others on the way up - you prosper. The rest of us wallow in our own goodness because we didn't see the car that hit us. Now we are angry and want recompense.

That's where we are now. the scales are out of balance and they need to be straightened. So who's going to do it, when is it going to happen, and at what cost?

>> ^bobknight33:

But if you can't find a job in a year than you are lazy bastard who is not willing to do what ever to takes to find employment. I moved 4 times for 4 new jobs. There is only a few of us per state. So When I need another job it means moving. It sucks but that life.
...
There are Millions of jobs available and you only need 1. Just one and only 1


I think it's a stretch to imply that anyone who wants a job can find one, especially right now. Even for low-wage positions, there's almost 100 applicants for each opening.

A lot of people also need to not just find any job they can get their hands on, but need to find a job that makes enough for them to be able to provide for their family. Hell, they might also need a job that lets them live up to their obligations to creditors. I know that if I got fired tomorrow, I couldn't just go work a minimum wage job and never need assistance from anyone.

Also, due to the nature of the housing crisis, a lot of people are underwater on their mortgage. In case you're unclear on what that means, it means even after someone sold their house, they'd still owe money to pay off the mortgage, and not just a trivial amount either. That's making people a lot less mobile than they usually are.

Also, since we're talking about someone who's getting on in years, they're going to have a lot of trouble getting an entry-level position when there are so many young people looking for jobs too. They're going to have a hard time finding a high-level position, because there aren't a lot of those to be found even in good times, and in bad times the competition is going to be fierce.

Which is all a long way of saying, it's very easy, especially now, for someone to wind up involuntarily unemployed for more than a year.

>> ^bobknight33:
If you do not want to pack up and move for a job why should we the people carry you?

Well this seems to be the fundamental moral difference between you and I. I think that people who stumble need to be helped back up.

You seem to assume everyone who falls down is just trying to scam people into carrying their weight for them. Further, you think that sort of thing should matter when you see someone else fall down.

People who've lost their way so badly that they want to be carried all the time need even more help than those who just want a little help to get back on their feet. They aren't wicked sinners who need to be punished, they're lost souls who need to be rehabilitated.

>> ^kymbos:

It's not about this generation of 20 year olds, it's every generation of 20 year olds. It's you, at 20. Man, it took me a while to lose my sense of entitlement. In fact, I'm not sure I have.
Disclaimer: not including those 20 year olds from WWI and WWII.


There's always talk about that greatest generation. What about the ones that were fucked up in the head because they went through a horrible fucking War? I mean thats gotta mess you up something fierce.

^My apologies to any casual visitors to the site who might be offended by the "jokes" above. It is only a handful of folks who do stuff like that, and unless it is really egregiously awful, there is no mechanism to deal with it. There is a written policy that racist comments are grounds for banning. However, the site is also fiercely against censorship. So we are boxed into a corner.

If you are deeply offended, I urge you to contact the administrators of the site.

If you think it is funny or clever or just mildly annoying, then I am relieved.

What are the down vote rules? Are you going to allow more for fierce competition or less for "fairness"?