Prison Planet; plus, a Serb (1)

   
   "Prison Planet; plus, a Serb (1)"
   
   Dusan was an older man.  Arctic blue eyes, a balding, symmetrical cranium with silver hair on the sides of his head, a build like Tebow from lifting steel in Pittsburgh, and a habit of protecting his neurology with charcoal-filtered cigarettes.  It was 1950, Steel City, and he was a gorgeous man.
   Dusan had a fourth grade education; however, was fluent in all the Slavic languages; moreover, knew education was enslavement.  Party--a four year vacation, joining Hellenistic frats, and the art of deception, meaning you become deceived.  Money, a distraction.  Phony education, a distraction. 
   Keep you in a state of anxiety, unless you follow the system and the prince of this world.  Seeking the flesh, ignoring the spirit, and having attachments that make you weak, like women.  Hell, look what a woman did to James Joyce, but in the end, it made him stronger and a great confessor; thus, God tests the just man, just as Dusan tested his steel.
   It's who you know.  It's how much money or corporeal favors you give them.  It's bologna.  For you must remember where you came from.  That light.  Counterpoise--a father and a mother.  That's true balance.  Yet the Second Law of Thermodynamics, and the Father and Mother infuse their child with both sides of their knowledge; next, stellar evolution ceases, for the star is perfection personified.  
   Dusan kept lifting steel.