Patrick M. Ohana
Bio
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
Stories (489/0)
TJ Padida’s Superpowers
What special power(s) can pass any test, at least anywhere on Earth, and be named accordingly? Gaining information about an event at a remote place by unknown means? Perceiving information about a future event before it occurs? Transferring information between individuals without the use of any of the five senses? Influencing matter, time, space, or energy by unknown means? No one has been able to prove any claims of special or super powers including any so-called events that relate to clairvoyance, precognition, telepathy, or psychokinesis. It remains to be seen whether it is too bad or too good.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Futurism
A String Theory
It would be easier to describe string theory, the little that I accept of this doubtful turf, than to tell you about the beginning, and the end for that matter, of the string. I barely noticed it one cloudy October weekend afternoon, dangling unbound in the air a bit closer to the ceiling than the floor. Roughly a foot long, it looked bluish and felt British between my fingers. Pubic hair has a peculiar texture, a strange consistency, so it seems, compared to other types of hair and particularly the locks that cover our heads. I have known British pubes, rough and downy at the same time, like a dying poet, unlike the ordinariness of the French, Korean, Russian, and Spanish, and the pubes of other nationalities in all probability. I pulled on it the way an ill-fated woman first pulls on a penis to assess its solidity before milking it for that nauseating nectar. What can be described as a space in space suddenly opened up and pulled me in much the same way that a mindful ant is sucked in by a mindless anteater. I found myself in a dark coldish cave that meandered to a cool darkish cavern.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Filthy
Let Him Forget Thee, O Jerusalem!
The First Day Their six-day trip to Jerusalem during the savage spring of 2014 started splendidly. They had decided to drive and walk throughout the city, arriving to the Caesar Premier hotel early in the morning of the first day. “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” seemed to suit their home away from home.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Psyche
A Perfect Day for Strings
There were six million strands of hair around Lev Shohet’s apartment, which he considered to be strings, and the way he had arranged them all over the walls would show, ah, to anyone―no need to search between noon and two―that they indeed were strings. He used his time, freely. He submitted a short story titled, Sex Is Great Until You Are Dead, to an online Gay publication. He shaved his testicles and the area surrounding them. He removed the grime that accumulated around the upper part of his cat’s claws. He dropped all modes of communication except for the World Wide Web. He cut out three pounds of flesh from the dead body on the floor. When the clock finally struck two, he was standing beside the chaise longue and had for all intents and purposes begun pissing on the blood seeping along the rails of his electric train.
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Psyche
Priceless Peace
If the Right is somewhat wrong, the Extreme Right is extremely wrong. As for the Left, it is mostly dead, and the Extreme Left is extremely wrong as well. Almost everyone on the Left and a few on the Right are talking about shalom (peace), which is surely a halom (dream) when both sides — there is actually more than one side on each side — are refusing to play footsie, cooperating instead with their pricks. But a ménage à trois implicating two pricks, or even a single one, seldom ends with the satisfaction of all parties. The two-state solution has become a wet dream, and the one-state solution is a cul-de-sac. The relocation of one side may be the only way out of the swamp of violence. But which side?
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in The Swamp
Forex
I worked as a Forex (foreign exchange) broker at FEGM (Foreign Exchange in Global Markets), or what it really stood for: Fantasy of Every Gullible Monkey. Please rest assured that I only worked there as part of an experiment. Trader losses were unofficially guaranteed because the dealing room at most of these binary options firms controlled the trading platform like a casino that manipulated its roulette wheel. In 2011, I started to work as a French Forex broker given that one’s first language often determined the language in which one would be brokering trades. Brokers couldn’t use their real names, and thus I ended up calling myself Pierre Fox after having considered other names for some seconds each (for example, John Trader and Patrick Fox). The following calling script template and diagram were supplied to all new brokers:
By Patrick M. Ohana3 years ago in Trader