Cosmo’s Journey Continues

You say you want an evolution

When god sized portions of Meade and Weed are in play even a god will suffer the effects of a massive hangover. Combine that with mushroom juice and whatever the hell that plus shit was, not to mention the pleasure muscle getting an ardent workout the previous evening and it was almost impossible for Cosmo to extricate himself from the comalike comforts of sleep. On any other morning he would have taken a long casual sweet ass time to depart from his dormancy but on this day he was far too excited. The Board had approved his bid for knowledge tinkering and he had to meet up with Tall God for the obligatory lecture before actually acquiring the necessary seeds. First to shake of the hangover he poured himself a cup of steaming salicylate tea, a spicy mint flavored tea that helps one focus with an added bonus of dulling the effects of a never again kind of night. While it eased the pain a bit even the tea could not erase his odd sense of paranoia. Cosmo pondered that strange feeling he had last night. He was certain someone else was in that room! Perhaps someone had watched their session of passion exchange but a feeling nagged him that someone else was in the room with them The last time he had the odd sensation of such a paranoia was shortly before his dinosaur planet had gone to shit. Could there be a connection? Maybe a long hot shower will wash the feeling away.
A steaming shower of hot liquid methane always hits the spot. As the silvery methane beat down on his tired body he allowed an involuntary gasp sneak out. He could feel the mixture of body fluids that had acquired all over his body scampering down his legs in search of the drain. The gasp accompanied the fluids and Cosmo began to feel the paranoia dissipate. He reflected on his evening of unbridled passionate love making. It was somewhat unusual for a god to giving such thought about a non god but last night was exceptional on every level for coz. Mary Anne had gone beyond meeting his sexual needs and tapped into a feeling foreign to the gratified god. Cosmo splashed some hot methane on his face and shook it off. “Never get attached,” he mumbled to no one.
Freshly invigorated from the steamy methane shower he applied cesium oxide in his eyes to get the red out, splashed a dab of sephora extract behind his ears and began feeling much better. He quickly got dressed and headed of to the Intergalactic Café where he was to meet Tall God. The Intergalactic Café was considered by most to serve the best brunch in the universe. Remarkably high glasslike ceilings look out across the vastness of the universe. The clear material is magnified at various locations to give the skies a textured look which was especially brilliant at night. Its walls were pristine white with nary a smudge anywhere, with oversize hexagonal rotating windows. Various shaped tables scattered about the dining area gave the room a random feel that borders on chaotic. The service is anything but chaotic and is the gold standard of restaurant service. The moment Cosmo walked in he was greeted by an android host. Sleek and shiny features his face was not round or oval like most beings but an almost triangular shape but with much softer edges. It’s body was cylindrical and it hovered ever so slightly off the floor and moved with grace and precision. “Welcome Mr. Cosmo. I am Valarian your host. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Your table is ready. Your guest will arrive shortly as he has jut left the aquarium. Would you care for a Meademosa?“ It baffled Cosmo how these androids could know who everyone was, who they were with, and could tell with pinpoint accuracy where they’re guest are at any given time. He answered as he followed the android to a table. ”Yes indeed I would love a Meademosa.” Meademos is a traditional brunch drink made with honey Meade, citronium nectar, and sparkling Nitrogena (a 180 proof alcohol made from nitrogen). Often served with a frozen argon cube it is conssidered the tastiest morning beverage in the entire multi-verse. Besides, it was also the hair of the cyber canine that gnawed at the inside of ones head so a perfect distraction for the effects of a hangover. Cosmo sat down at his table. The table top, in the shape of a rhombus looked like a flowing river yet whatever was put on top of it sat motionless. His chair was actually in a parallel universe so it could not be seen giving the impression that all guests were sitting on air. It was extremely comfortable and it fit to ones body perfectly. Here in the District physic aren’t a law but more of a suggestion. After less than 20 seconds a hologram arrived with his Meademosa. “Good morning Mr. Cosmo, hope you are enjoying your stay in District seven.” Cosmo loved the efficiency of the hologram service. “Yes thank you, I have been having a wonderful time, but to be honest I can’t wait to get back to my own galaxy.” Holograms rarely engage in small talk and this morning was no exception. “I will return with your beverage and a menu.” Your guest is arriving in ten seconds. Poof she was gone. Great Draconius things appear and disappear so rapidly in the District.

The Second Part of the Journey

                     

                         The Insidious adventures of JT Hilltop

 

                          (Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come)

 

                  

                                                              

              It was my first day in my new digs, a guest suite in the local detention center of Aiken County South Carolina. I remembered having detention in high school, a form of punishment for any of a variety of mischievous infractions.  This however, was quite a different detention.  I was given my very own guest room totally unadorned.  I suppose you could say it was decorated in minimalist style, complete with four bare walls, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a pamphlet thin mattress on a wooden platform with a polyester sheet and Government issue wool blanket, and…..well actually, that was it.  My new living arrangements for the next thirty days.  So here I am, this young suave New Yorker, locked up somewhere in the deep south where I feared I may never be heard from again.  The pace in this city, I think I heard it called Grandmaville, or Grannyville or some shit was anything but urgent.  Great, I thought to myself, here I am in Petticoat fucking Junction.  Theres Uncle Joe he’s a movin’ kinda slow! “Yikes,” I thought, “Not a familiar face anywhere and not a single person left to turn to.” Thirty days in this hell hole with no beer, no weed, not even a fucking TV to help pass the time.  Just me, myself and….and  a band of hillbilly cops.  Actually, I wasn’t completely alone. 

    Along with yours truly, and against their wills as well were five “block” mates each sizing me up. I could tell they were wondering what skyscraper it was that I  crawled out from under.  I was certain I detected a mix of  urban admiration and good ole boy Yankee hatred.  Instinctively I understood the importance of establishing the “upper hand”. I had heard some of the other….ah “Inn” mates call the guards by the term “turn-key”.  So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very  moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive.  “Ay Oh, Turn-key”.  I need to make a phone call.”  I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of distain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal. An awkward silence befell the cellblock, as a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare, I almost felt jealous.   I’m from New York, where sarcasm is a second language and he had just read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach, or if I should rethink my options. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed  “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”  The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible, and just stared at me a moment. I could feel his smoky foul breath dancing across my cheeks and I felt the lashes of his eyes as they blinked. Little hard eye hairs that could successfully brush a longhaired afghan hound.  I had a sudden and humbling movie memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” Before my ‘Deliverance’, I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia.  Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy.  You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago.  You have spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar.  You have faced off with New York City detectives. (not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less.  Well maybe stood up was not the right term)  I  gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was  back in charge again.  Apparently, none of this mattered to sergeant Komodo dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in the movie. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired New Yoke piece o’ shit?”  I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming distain in his voice.  But alas it was too late, the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now, the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator.  And the fan was humming!  The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence began to burn loud in my ears.  Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck do you think your dealing with” kind of grin broke out on his upper lip and quickly spread across his jaw until it took over his entire face. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating Cheshire smile and I can sense that it is a smile with some very serious implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions with my captor, while not losing face with my new room mates.  But let me back up a bit and explain how I even got here in the first place.

The Second Part of the Journey

The Insidious adventures of JT Hilltop

(Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come)

It was my first day in my new digs, a guest suite in the local detention center of Aiken County South Carolina. I remembered having detention in high school, a form of punishment for any of a variety of mischievous infractions. This however, was quite a different detention. I was given my very own guest room totally unadorned. I suppose you could say it was decorated in minimalist style, complete with four bare walls, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a pamphlet thin mattress on a wooden platform with a polyester sheet and Government issue wool blanket, and…..well actually, that was it. My new living arrangements for the next thirty days. So here I am, this young suave New Yorker, locked up somewhere in the deep south where I feared I may never be heard from again. The pace in this city, I think I heard it called Grandmaville, or Grannyville or some shit was anything but urgent. Great, I thought to myself, here I am in Petticoat fucking Junction. Theres Uncle Joe he’s a movin’ kinda slow! “Yikes,” I thought, “Not a familiar face anywhere and not a single person left to turn to.” Thirty days in this hell hole with no beer, no weed, not even a fucking TV to help pass the time. Just me, myself and….and a band of hillbilly cops. Actually, I wasn’t completely alone.
Along with yours truly, and against their wills as well were five “block” mates each sizing me up. I could tell they were wondering what skyscraper it was that I crawled out from under. I was certain I detected a mix of urban admiration and good ole boy Yankee hatred. Instinctively I understood the importance of establishing the “upper hand”. I had heard some of the other….ah “Inn” mates call the guards by the term “turn-key”. So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive. “Ay Oh, Turn-key”. I need to make a phone call.” I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of distain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal. An awkward silence befell the cellblock, as a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare, I almost felt jealous. I’m from New York, where sarcasm is a second language and he had just read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach, or if I should rethink my options. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed “What we have here is a failure to communicate.” The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible, and just stared at me a moment. I could feel his smoky foul breath dancing across my cheeks and I felt the lashes of his eyes as they blinked. Little hard eye hairs that could successfully brush a longhaired afghan hound. I had a sudden and humbling movie memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” Before my ‘Deliverance’, I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia. Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy. You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago. You have spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar. You have faced off with New York City detectives. (not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less. Well maybe stood up was not the right term) I gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was back in charge again. Apparently, none of this mattered to sergeant Komodo dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in the movie. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired New Yoke piece o’ shit?” I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming distain in his voice. But alas it was too late, the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now, the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator. And the fan was humming! The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence began to burn loud in my ears. Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck do you think your dealing with” kind of grin broke out on his upper lip and quickly spread across his jaw until it took over his entire face. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating Cheshire smile and I can sense that it is a smile with some very serious implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions with my captor, while not losing face with my new room mates. But let me back up a bit and explain how I even got here in the first place.

The Farm Parable

Nightmare on Main Street
JT Hilltop

Somewhere in Kansas there was five farms of equal size, with equal crop output. Farmer’s ABCD and E. They were all family owned and operated farms an all enjoyed a happy and fruitful life. They worked hard all day and always had food on the table, clothes on their backs, small luxuries for entertainments, and found extra money for some of the modern appliances for a growing culture. They each sold all their crops at fair prices because the competition kept them honest. For three generations all five families thrived. But on the fourth generation, farmer A had a son that didn’t want to work so hard in fields and he forged a plan. He went to Farmer B with a proposition. He told farmer B that if they could put the two farms together, and call it Farm AB, they could tend to the fields with less farmhands and save them both money. Eventually we could have others working the fields and we would have more crops and more money. Of course this appealed to farmer B so no need to give it any thought. A partnership was born.
Over the next year, the two farms combined land and were able to increase the crop output. Not only that, they were able to let go of two farmhands each as the chores got shared. But farmer A’s son was still not satisfied. He had another plan in mind. He went back to farmer B and said to him, “You know, if we could sell our crops a little cheaper we could sell to farmer C’s buyer and not have to take the extra crops so far. Once we have him as a buyer we can raise the prices back up again.” This time farmer B wasn’t as enthusiastic but farmer A’s son was very convincing and he finally relented. They lowered their prices and as he predicted they sold their crops to farmer C’s buyer. Of course as a result, farmer C ha to travel much further to sell his crops and it became much too costly. Farmer C was struggling something awful, and he had to let 2 farmhands go and double up on his own work. After two seasons, farmer C was feeling weak and tired and the family was struggling to get by.
Now farmer A’s son sensed another opportunity so he went to farmer C an offered to pay off all his debts, and relieve him of all his problems by purchasing his farm. Farmer C was becoming frail and his family was not eating as well as they once had, but the farm was all he had and it had been in the family as long as he could remember. Farmer A’s son had already prepared for this problem and he had a solution. “Look farmer C, you can keep your house, and we will hire you in our much bigger farm. You will have a sure income for your family, a place to live, and you will never have to work as hard a you do now ever again.” Farmer C relented, and soon there were only three farms, farm AB, farm D and farm E
Now farmers D and E could see what was going on. They got together an agreed that neither would ever sell the farm, and if they both stayed strong they would always have their own farms and not become part of farm AB. No matter how farmer A’s son tried, he could not break either farm. He gave them both substantial offers to buy them out, he sold his crops at lower prices, he offered their workers jobs which many took, causing hardships on both farms. He’d offer them higher pay, an after a few months laid them off, leaving the farmhands out of work and farms D and E overworked and tired. But as agreed, both farmers held strong and waited out the bad times. Farmer A’s son was producing more crops than ever, and was doing it with less farmhands because the three farms combined could be run more efficiently and less farmhands were needed. The town was now becoming filled with out of work farmhands who were becoming more and more desperate as time went by. Crime rate in town began to grow out of control as morale of the townspeople plummeted. As a result taxes went up as the need for a larger police force became immanent.
Farmer B was beginning to regret his decision as he saw his one time friends having a harder and harder time of it. He saw how they were struggling and he saw farmer C become nothing more than a farmhand himself. A dejected and frail farmer doing his best to keep his family together, as hi children moved out one by one to find a better life. He now began to see farmer A’s son for what he was. A greedy and underhanded viper that could care less about anyone else. Had he made a pact with the devil? Farmer B was sure farmer A’s son would run him out of town at first chance.
The prophecy didn’t take long. With Farmers D an E holding firm and keeping up the pressure, Farmer A’s son began to recruit some of the foreman on the farm. Offering the promise of a raise they agreed to help force farmer B out of the picture by making his efforts seem unworthy. They sabotaged his part of the farm and let everything look bad for farmer B. Having hired a good lawyer who set up a nefarious contract agreement Farmer B soon lost all his rights in the companies decisions. Now farm AB was essentially run by farmer A’s son and farmer B had become just like farmer C, nothing more than a farmhand on his own farm.
Farmers D an E continued working hard and remained resolute in their promise to each other not to cave in to farmer A’s sons antics. He used his under pricing games forcing them to travel twice as far to sell their crops, he lured away the best and hardest workers from the farms with better pay, and he hired local out of work thugs to destroy portions of their crops. He did everything else in his power to make the remaining farms struggle as much as possible. Farmers D and E remained strong until one fateful day. While out in his field, farmer E experienced a heart attack. Not having any emergency services nearby he died before he ever got to the hospital. Farmer D of course did all he could to help his friends wife and family. Most of the town viewed this as a horrible tragedy. Framer A’s son however viewed it as an opportunity. He put pressure on farmer E’s wife and two very young sons to sell their farm. Unable to maintain the farm the recent widow collapsed under her grief and sold off the family farm. Now Farmer A’s son had Farm AB, which include the land and all the crops of farms A, B, C, and E. Farmer D worked his field hard and struggled but no matter how bad it got farmer A’s son never gave him a second glance. No offer to buy out, no tricks to force him out of business, farmer A’s son merely concentrated on maximizing his own profits and minimizing his costs by laying off more workers and purchasing in bulk. He knew it would only be a matter of time and he could get the farm for a song.
His big chance came the next season. An unusually hot and dry season created tremendous hardship for the farms. Nearing a major drought farmer A’s son shipped in truckloads of water to irrigate his crops but farmer D could not afford to have water shipped. Reluctantly, with his entire crop in danger, he went to farmer A’s son to ask him if he could purchase some of the water an pay him for shipping after his crops are harvested and he had the cash. Farmer A’s son seized his opportunity. “I will not sell you any water, but here’s what I will do. I will give you an offer to purchase your farm from you.” Farmer D had no intention of selling and the offer was actually insulting. Half what the farm was worth and barely enough money for him to move his family away. He refused the offer an headed back to his farm.
Unable to grow anything, the farmhands began getting nervous and started looking for work elsewhere. Many left the state and headed west to look for work. Farmer D could only watch as his family farm as it literally deteriorated into the ground. The banks were unwilling to lend him anymore money and expressed concerns of the loan he already had. At the end of the season, the farm did not yield a single crop, and the bank came to foreclose his farm. Broke, tired, and dejected farmer D felt he had two choices. Either he could take his own life, or he could join the farmhands that had left town and go in search of work. He chose to live because of his family, so they packed up and headed west. But there was one person who did decide to end his own life. Farmer B was so distraught watching what happened to his one time friends and neighbors families and despised himself for his role in their demise so vehemently that he hung himself in one of the many barns.
Now farmer A’s son owned farms ABC and E outright and was able to purchase farm D from the bank for even less than his original offer. Farms ABCD and E, were now Amalgamated Farms of Kansas. Farmer A’s son had achieved the modern American dream, to become the riches person in town. He had trampled over many people to get there, but they are insignificant pawns that needed to be played to in order to achieve the goal. The victory tasted very good to farmer A’ son. So good in fact that he felt it would be possible to either find farms with different crops an do the same thing there, or maybe find something other than farming he could manipulate and take over ownership of. He wanted it all, more and more and more. He could not get enough possessions to satisfy his unyielding greed. Maybe farm tool stores. He could build large farm tool stores and sell tools cheaper than the smaller ones. Maybe sell lumber an other farm needs as well, putting other small companies out of business. The possibilities seemed endless.
Farmer A’s son was very astute and he soon realized if he could own influential people in town he could more easily manipulate the markets in his favor. He backed the right politicians and showered them with monetary support, and created relationships forged in greed with the biggest bankers. It wasn’t long before farmer A’s son owned and ran over half of the businesses in the area. You may say he has achieved the American Dream, but to me it seems as though he has created the American Nightmare. Sleep well!
Peace

Karma For Sale

JLKarma For Sale
by JT Hilltop

I started out my culinary adventures busting suds for a restaurant in my hometown, and from there the homicidal chef taught me to make salads and finally hot foods. An odd assortment of strange characters assured me this was the world for me. No running off to join the circus for this young lad, my destiny was to be found in the freakish family which would be come to be known to me as “Restaurant People.” Maniacal chefs, egotistic managers, sexy waitresses, drug dealing bus boys, and the legion of pot washing, shrimp peeling, meatball rolling minions of the back of the house. The rest as they say is history. Once I realized I had taken it a far as I could on my own I needed to up my game. A friend suggested I go to the CIA. When I told them I had no interest in become a kitchen spy they informed my naïve ass that I should enroll at the Culinary Institute of America. So I trotted off to cooking school for two years of studying under even more maniacal chefs who probably should never be allowed to use knives outside of the school. But what an education! I was at the top culinary university in the nation, learning the dynamics, science, and art of cooking and culinary management. After years of working for chefs with vein bulging foreheads that seemed in a constant state of sublime irritation, and two years of continuing that line of abuse at school I was ready for the real world of foodservice.
The time had come for me to fine tune the skills and knowledge I has acquired and I wanted to go straight to the top. Thats how I ended up with my first position as a tournant at Windows on the World on top of the World Trade Center in NYC. Look Ma, I’m on top of the world! Or so I thought. The prestige and honor that puffed my chest with pride at landing a tournant position on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center was soon deflated when I learned just what exactly a tournant was. It’s French for to turn, and I guess it translates to every other cook takes a turn kicking you around until the next newbie comes along. You so all the scrub work for the other line cooks. Every day the first task of the new tournant is to chop the parsley for everyone else in the kitchen. You get handed a huge bag filled with the curly green garnish and take them to your cutting board along with two of your largest knives and commence chopping until you think your wrists are broken. That huge shrub bush of a garnish you were handed is now a finely cut brick of chopped green vegetation. Then commissioned into cheesecloth, strained and broken into 15 separate cups. I still have a vivid memory of the time someone new started and I was given the honor of handing the newbie the bag of cumbersome curlies complete with instructions. And I was one of the fifteen recipients as I was awarded my own station. Saucier, the one who gets to sauté veal, chicken, shrimp, and liver an make the appropriate sauce. Oh happy day!
Chopping parsley was only one thankless newbie tournant job. The list went on and on. The position of tournant was actually created to cover any station left unmanned because of a day off or a sick out. One day sauté, one day roast, maybe one day the veggie or fish cook etc. Thats what they taught us at CIA at least, what some jobs call a swing shift. But it is in reality it is the “legal” term for a line cook. We were all tournants which gave the chef autonomous power to place us wherever the hell he or she wanted us to be with no time limit as to how long we worked it. It’s a tool for the chef to use to place you wherever he decides for any purpose he desires, including discipline. If you screwed up you can ret assured you will work a few days in Garde Manger, (gar-mah- zhay) which is the cold kitchen. Hours a day breading veggies, skewering meat, cutting lettuce, or making dressings. Low level Garde Manger is tedium at its finest. Your day over in the cold kitchen starts even worse than parsley. You begin with separating a minimum of 30 dozen eggs by hand. The whites go to the pastry dept and the yolks are to make gallons of mayonnaise and pounds of hollandaise. From there its on to some long and repetitive chore that uses little to no knowledge acquired. Garde Manger is the McJob of the restaurant world. Its tournant torture! I spent way too much time there in the beginning and learned quickly get things done right or cover my ass.
But it wasn’t all bad, not by a long shot. Maybe it was because of the high level of ass busting and the pressure of getting over a thousand meals served in 4 hours or maybe just experiencing the same culinary drudgery but a camaraderie developed that rivals the most prestigious fraternity. The other cooks have your back and would give the chef coat off their backs if it wasn’t so sweat soaked. And I would do the same for them. The line, the area of cooks stations with stove tops, was about 800 degrees hot with eight ranges blasting constant heat. Either way, in my two years working at Windows I learned more than I would ever learn anywhere and it set me on a course which would eventually find me as an executive chef, complete with high stress level and mandatory vein popping forehead. I was certain I was headed for one of the top chef positions in the city, or at least a real good ‘B‘ level chef job.
Back then I knew everything. Now I am older, not much wiser, and instead of the top of the world cheffing I have become a baker. Making cupcakes day after day, specializing in cold food. Not quite as tedious as Garde Manger, but still Karmic revenge. Yes Karmic revenge served to me as it should be, COLD!. That’s right, revenge is a dish absolutely best served cold, after you’ve had time to make your plans. But I did misspoke when I said karmic revenge, as there is no such thing as revenge in Karma. Revenge is a human emotion. So what then of Karma??? Well here’s my take.

Karma. Its something many of us say that we believe in. I myself say I believe in Karma but I feel it has gotten a bad rap these days. Many people believe Karma to be the universe exacting revenge, but revenge in and of itself is a negative. Karma focuses on the positive. I hear people say things like “ There can’t be any true karma because bad people get away with shit and good people get shit on.” That has nothing to do with Karma guys, that’s life. Karma isn’t payback for doing wrong or reward for doing right. Doing the right thing is its own reward and Karma is just the positive energy that goes along with it. That’s how it get its bad rap, because lack of Karma is negative energy, not bad Karma. It’s the law of attraction that confuse good Karma with bad. The more positive you and your actions are the more positive energy will be attracted to you and vice versus for the negative. The universe isn’t sitting there waiting to get revenge, that goes against everything that’s good about Karma. If you choose to do the right thing because you want good Karma to reward you don’t hold your breath because Karma doesn’t work on demand. When something bad happens don’t wish bad Karma on the person that screwed you because your just festering negative energy. Let the universe take care of things. You may not see it but lack of Karma will surround negative acts with negative energy. Concentrate on keeping your life positive. Distance yourself from negative people and embrace positive people. Walk away from negative energy and walk head first into the positive. No one should need a religion to tell them how to live the best life, the “Golden Rule” is just common sense. I’m not saying abandon your religion and stop the rituals, by all means if that’s a positive action for you embrace it. Take all the positive vibrations your religion grants you. But don’t rely only on your religion to tell you how to treat others, that’s your responsibility. When my daughter was very sick and so very helpless a quote I heard has always resonated with me. “A man is never so tall as when he bends to help a child.” Many men and women went out of their way to help my daughter and in my book they all stand taller than any monument ever constructed. They weren’t standing in line asking where’s my good Karma, they did it selflessly. They were rewarded in positive energy and good spirit in themselves in the satisfaction that by simply doing the right thing they had a feeling of euphoria about themselves. The fact that many feel that doing the right thing should be rewarded is a sad statement on the times.
I’m sure many of you, like myself, have bought watched and hoped “The Secret” was the answer we need. Obviously a motivational CD is not going to make anyone rich unless you are the ones selling it, but the Secret raises some great points. It stresses believing in yourself and surrounding yourself with people you enjoy being around. People you admire. People who will bring into your life the harmony and happiness that’s waiting for you. Maybe it won’t make you rich, you won’t find yourself in your dream house with thousand dollar check arriving daily, but if you read between the line of what they say you can find happiness and self worth. That may not help pay your rent but it will fill your world with reason to enjoy life.
In a way I believe The Secret CD is what we hoped it was, but not to give us wealth of money but rather a wealth of good feeling. So here is my Karmic advice or Karmic wisdom. Don’t look for Karma to bring you money and good luck. Don’t hope Karma brings misfortune on others who have wronged you. Don’t search for good Karma, allow your Karma to find you. Keep your life as positive as possible and surround yourselves with as many positive people as possible. Do your very best to avoid negativity and negative people and live your best life. You are not responsible for anyone else’s Karma. One can’t rent or purchase Karma, one must live it. In essence, never buy it from used Karma salesman, don’t get ripped off by Karma rental services, and never pay sticker price for Karma… Move forward and keep focused on what truly matters..…Peace

In The Beggining

The Story of Everything, by Justin Thyme Hilltop

Part 1…In The Beginning

It’s an inevitable question from near about every child. “Mommy, where do we come from? Daddy, why are we here?” Of course these burning questions festered in my head and heart and the flames would not die down without an answer. So many questions I had as a kid and only two people I knew and trusted to give me answers. But It didn’t stop there because it made me wonder where they got the answers? Turns out they got their answers from a place called church. So the answers came from some dude they saw once a week every Sunday. This dude stands up in front of everyone and talks, sometimes even scolds everyone. Then in an apparent attempt to make my parents feel better he makes us sing songs and repeat phrases like “and with you“ and the like. Afterwards he waits by the door to talk to everyone. Not very convincing to a young boy. Especially when the dude dresses so damn strange, in a black jacket with a funny looking collar. But this is the guy with all the answers to all the questions in the world. This is the dude who told Mom where I came from, and told Dad why we’re all are here. So how the fuck does he know so much? I needed to find out.
I watched closely to see how it all works. First there is a huge room. A gigantic room actually, and this odd guy stands up on a kind of stage they call an alter, and lectures everyone in the room, all of whom are sitting on these Hard wooden bench like things. I don’t believe the designer gave any thought whatsoever about how peoples asses would feel just 5 minutes after sitting. I could physically see most all of the kids and half of the Dads squirming around trying to find a position that doesn’t leave bruises on the cheek. That must be what they really mean when they say turn the other cheek. So this funny looking dude stands up there and tells stories about a long long time ago, tells us to open our hymnals, and makes us sing songs. Then he gets mad and tells the adults how to live, which for kids is the best part because its Mom and Dad getting some of the shit they give us constantly. But still, its boring as hell, which apparently is a word I can’t say even though its in that book of theirs. That black book, is that where he get his info?
As it turns out he knows the story of everything because it tells him so in that special black book. The name of this book is “The Bible” and it is considered by just about everyone to be the end all and be all of everything. They call it the holy bible. Funny word, if I heard a story with lots of holes in it I would think it’s a lie. Why people even put their hand on this book and swear to things and everyone else accepts that as absolute truth. It made me wonder what the fuck could make one book so damn powerful. If this book has the answers to everything and I read it myself I will know everything. So I took a copy, which didn’t seem like a bad thing to me until Dad screamed when I got home and he saw it. Now I know its stealing and that’s wrong and results in an ass whooping, so you see, that book taught me something right from the start.
I finally did read this Bible though, and what I did read absolutely amazed me. This book, this holy bible is filled with some very strange stories, even stranger than green eggs and ham. It was quite hard to read because even though the words were English words many of them made no sense. So I read it over and over until I could finally understand it. I had to wonder who wrote it and why so I asked the Sunday dude with the funny collar how and when it was written. I have to tell you I was rather shocked when I found out. This shit was written thousands of years ago, and it is a kind of history book written by god. But of course that makes no sense, why would god waste his time writing such a long story. Turns out, he didn’t actually write it himself, he had his people write it for him. The first five books were written by this like 4 thousand year old clown named “Mosey”. Not only did he write it, but he had a starring role in the second through fifth chapters. The rest was written by some out of work history teachers called scribes. That is until this Spanish guy named Jesus comes along, then all the different religions have different history books. But my interest was in the beginning. In the beginning man created god in his own image. But wait, do I have that backwards? Is this the dyslexic version? More importantly, was it a GRAVEN image? These are important and serious questions that need serious….well it needed answers! When the funny collar dude said some like four thousand year old fucker named Mosey wrote the first five stories something didn’t seem right. I think its about time this whole crazy story gets straightened out. And I know just the right person to spin these fables out of biblical proportions. Yours truly of course!
So I started by thinking back to a time when my Mom and Dad would read me stories. All these wild fairy tales of ladies with hair so strong and long that a man could climb up her hair and save her, or a little girl that ventured into the house of a family of bears. Bears who ate porridge and slept in beds! There were cross dressing wolves dressed as grandma’s, houses made of candy, and even three little pigs who each made their houses from different things, one straw, one wood, and one was apparently a mason and built it with bricks. All the stories were quite harmless really, and very entertaining to a young child. And I had no clue at the time, but these stories had more than just entertainment values, they taught me something. They taught me what my parents called morals. Like, so the moral of the story is don’t steal, or the moral of the story is to be considerate of others and be good, or whatever, the point is they taught me what’s right and what’s wrong. As I got older of course I realized that pigs can’t talk let alone build brick houses, and bears live in caves, not in beds, and they don’t even like porridge. My point is I learned things from these stories even though they were completely made up. It was just a way to get me to understand right from wrong in a way I could understand at the time. But now suddenly they want to believe in a garden with the first two people ever and some evil talking snake., a man building an ocean liner called an ark and grabbing two of each animal, insects,’ birds all of them, and got them rooms. Some kind of floating creature hotel filled with honeymoon suites. It floated around with them for forty days and forty nights while it rained continuously. Somehow they all ate, but not each other. The lions played with the lambs and the crickets and the birds and none of them gave into the temptation for forty days. It got me thinking about these bible stories. What if the funny collar dude is wrong? What if it was just stories written by his mom and dad to help teach him right from wrong? I mean it makes sense, right? Just like Rapunzle, or Rumplestiltskin, or Goldilocks. Maybe these stories of Adam, and Eve, and Noah, and Cain and Able were just fairytales to teach him morals.. What if they are really made up stories written to explain to the children of thousands of years ago how to behave and how to treat each other? And of course how everything came to be?
It brought me to an internal understanding. This bible, this holy book, is nothing more than the history of humans as told by the people who first learned to write. So much of the beginning is a recounting of stories that were told in household through out the land we call the fertile crescent. So I re-read this bible only this time I tried to read between the lines. This is how Justin Thyme Hilltop came up with the true explanation of how we got to where we are. This is the story of everything.
Part one: Genesis
Evolution is the key. Just as animals evolved into other animals, so did we evolve from some sort of animal. Bipeds they call us. We walk upright on two legs and use our hands as tools. So the original peoples of the earth evolved from animals and grew up in tribes. Each tribe or community took care of itself, its only purpose was to reproduce thereby keeping the tribe alive. Survival. That was the key. Most tribes were hunters or scavengers, either killing and eating animals, or scavenging the vegetation already here on earth. However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent, two tribes stood out amongst all others. They had become far more advanced than most other tribes. These two tribes used reason and logic, and figured out a way to survive working together as a colony. One tribe, The Aggies, learned how to manipulate the vegetation and grow it at will using soil, sun and water. They were prolific growers. The other tribe, The Shepherds, learned how to manipulate the cattle and sheep, and penned them up creating a seemingly endless supply of milks and meats. They were prolific manipulators. These two tribes habituated a very large area called the Garden of Eden. They did not like each other, but they used their logic and reason to devise boundaries which they agreed not to cross. So the Aggies lived in the North section of Eden, and the Shepherds the South. The tribes kept to themselves and all was peaceful until one incident set of a series of events that would change the world.
One of the Aggies, a young male decided to take a walk in the area that no one used to see what was there. He came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing. He did not recognize her so he knew she must belong to the Shepherds. When he looked closely at her, he noticed something that struck him. She looked much like he did, only fairer in skin and hair. She had a pale complexion and long colorless long hair filled with curls. She had eyes of turquoise which seemed to sparkle like evening stars. He found her oddly attractive. He became entrances as she bathed with water glistening off her white full breasts. It made his stomach a tad queasy. More than that, there was something intriguing about this woman. He spied her with great delight and even began to wonder if she was like the women of Aggies in other ways. Okay, let me spell it out for you. He began feel that all too familiar tingling of the loins that cause men to lose control. He began to wonder if she enjoyed the pleasures of sex in the same manner women of his tribe had enjoyed him. Basically, he thought about making wild unbridled passionate love to her. Considering the times, perhaps it was bridled sex, but whatever, she made him horny as all….. For lack of a better term, all Hell.
He began wandering down to the waterhole every day and watched from the trees as she bathed herself getting more horny each day. He stared in awe until he got up enough nerve to confront her. “Young maiden of the Shepherds, why do you come here each day by yourself?” The young maiden pretended to be alarmed even though she had been aware of his hiding and staring since his first visit. Frankly, she was just as curious as he was, also experienced a tingle and perhaps just as interested in sex. “I come here to bath myself, not to be stared at by an Aggie. Why do you come here and stare at me?” The young Aggie gave this some thought, because quite frankly he wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “ I come not to stare at you but to explore the area and determine if the land is fit for growing” he lied. The young maiden blushed slightly when she saw the lust in his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure it is the land which explore? It seems to me you are looking at my body and I believe that is not vegetation I see growing under your loincloth” The audacious young maiden gave him a look that offered more a challenge than a venting of distain. She blinked her eyes at him and something strange happened. He felt a Funny feeling in his stomach as though the seeds he used to grow things themselves were festering from within. He boldly chose to accept the challenge. “It is true that have gazed upon you and appreciate the…..unusual beauty you possess. Indeed I was hoping perhaps you were an Aggie and would be my maiden.” The Aggie could feel his entire body shaking and the young Shepherd maiden did not back away. She moved closer to the Aggie. “I am a Shepherd woman, not a dirt laden Aggie maiden. And you young Aggie, you are filled with dirt from your farming. If I were to ever consider being a maiden to the like of you I would expect you to be clean. Why don’t you come in here and allow me to bathe you?” It was more of an order than an invitation but that was of no consequence because he had already made his mind up as to where he was headed. He approached the watering hole with a mere modicum of trepidation. She held out her hand and he accepted, and the both of them shuddered ever so slightly. He dropped his loincloth and revealed the growth underneath it was indeed ripe for the picking. He stepped naked into the waterhole beside her. For five minutes they stared and cleansed each other, eyes sparkling with curious wonder. The Aggie closed his eyes and allowed this maiden, this Shepherd woman to touch him all over. When she got down to washing below his waist he was surprised to discover how eagerly his body was responding. The maiden held his solid manpole in her hand. “Methinks my Aggie that you have something other than bathing on your mind.” Unable to form an actual word, the Aggie grabbed the maiden in his arms and laid a big fat spit swapping kiss on her using his tongue muscle very skillfully. This was something new to the maiden, and at first she wanted to pull back. However, once she realized how good the tongue tango felt, she greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth and allowed the saliva filled dance to continue. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. Sparks flew and fluids oozed, and soft moaning was the only form of communication. Of course the two lovers understood they braved the scorn of their fellow tribe members by allowing their naked bodies to exchange these biological fluids. But it felt so crazy good they did indeed continue to explore each other and exchange passion and bodily fluids. Four times. It wasn’t until after the fourth round of carnal explorations led to exhaustion that they even introduced themselves to each other. “I am called Adam, which means man.” To which the maiden replied, “Indeed Adam, you are quite the man. More so than any Shepherd I have ever known. My name is Eve, which means life.” With a big fat satisfied grin Adam replied, “Indeed Eve, you have breathed life into me unequaled by any other Aggie I have ever known.”
So Adam and Eve began to meet each other every day and made love like a couple of school kids. But all was not so good back at the tribes. The other Aggies were beginning to get suspicious because Adam never ever seemed to be dirty. How could anyone work the soil all day yet remain free of dirt. And back at the Shepherds they began to get suspicious because Eve was always whistling and showed no interest in even the most handsome of Shepherds. Now it just so happened that the leader of each tribe sent someone to follow their respective suspected tribe violators on the very same day. Once at the watering hole, the Aggie spy hid in the north woods, and the Shepherd spy hid in the south woods. At first the spies were appalled and shocked. But Adam and Eve were both so very sexually talented, and each brought new tricks specific to their tribes that it became more of a show. I believe at least one, perhaps even both had become so excited while watching that they pleasured themselves before retuning to the tribe leaders to give the reports.
The tribe leaders were livid. Furious! How could this possibly happen? It was the most outrageous act that had ever occurred. They both paced, in different colonies yet somehow in unison, until the sinners returned to their folds. The minute Adam returned to the Shepherd village he was grabbed by the biggest and strongest Aggies and brought before the leader. “Adam, I am quite disappointed”, he said, “You have disrespected every member of our tribe by engaging in this disgusting act with a Shepherd woman.” Adam didn’t answer, he just stood there looking sheepish, which for an Aggie was another no no. “You’re despicable act has left me with no other choice. You shall be banned forever from the garden of Eden. Go now, get out and never return. Take your Shepherd slut with you!” Adam sadly walked to his hut to gather his belongings. Inside he saw his best and now only friend. “How did he find out” he asked of this friend. “Well Adam, you were spied on by Cain. He followed you and reported back to the leader.” Adam shook his head and mumbled, “Cain, of course. I should have guessed. That shit spreading farmer is gonna pay for this someday.” And with that, Adam left towards the waterhole hoping to see Eve there one last time.
Eve of course had a similar experience, and she too was permanently banned from the Garden of Eden. Eve was certain it was Abel that had spied on her as Abel had always tried putting the moves on her but she forever denied his advances. Reluctantly she too had to leave, and also chose to have one last look around the sexually charged waterhole in hopes that somehow Adam might be there. As luck would have it, which luck often does in tales, they met at the very same moment and exchanged stories of banishments.
So hand in hand Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden forever, Eve holding in her free hand the apple Adam had grown for her, and Adam holding his snake, which Eve had so totally and completely tamed, in his