Death After Death, part 1

Sometimes you just need to treat yourself and splurge a little. That’s how I justified having that humongous double bacon cheeseburger and fries on that one fateful night. Holy guacamole it sure was delicious going down and man oh man did it make me feel good. All smiles and satisfaction on my face. Oh yea, beer, bacon, and burgers make everything on the outside feel all tingly and giddy. However, things on the inside where not quite as jovial. Unbeknownst to me there was an acidic uprising throughout the gastro battlefields. The war between the intestines was engaged and acids were flying around everywhere. An all out acid attack was underway which was bad enough, but even worse, in the cardio corner a shock and awe campaign was fully engaged. While the intestines battled it out they sent waves of nausea up through the esophagus in a campaign to create a reflux warning. Tossing and turning, tumbling and churning, the gastro intestinal system did its best to raise the threat level to red and wake me up. But the eight or so beer and the large glass of boxed wine had seen to it that nothing short of an absolute hydrogen explosion or an atomic disturbance would wake me from my comatose sleep. The battle ensued and intensified through the evening as much of the fat from the bacon, cheese, and hamburger had forced their way past the intestine walls and into the already weak liver. There it jumped on the hemoglobin bus and took the main artery directly to coronary quadrant. The bus let off exactly where the cholesterol had been preparing for its moment. Ah yes, the cholesterol, the bad kind of course, had been planning this for years, setting up roadblocks all along the arteries to prevent anything from passing through to reach the life center. If it can cut off all paths to the heart an prevent the flow of life giving liquids to blood pumping center the evil cholesterol will be declared the winner! The blood supply line was doing its best to bring its humanitarian supplies to the heart, but this huge bacon cheeseburger gave cholesterol just the proper blockage it needed to shut down its opponent forever. No blood flow and its just a matter of time. I guess I’m glad I was asleep at the time, but what follows death is what may interest you most. Here’s how it went down.
Something felt a little off that night. Not sure how to put it into words but I get to feeling lethargic at this time of night often, and usually attribute it to being tired from a long day of work. But there was something more to it tonight. I mean sure, the beer made me a bit woozy and sleepy, and the work its gonna take to digest that huge fucking bacon cheeseburger is taking a lot out of me, but still an unusual lethargy tonight. An almost sinister lethargy on this eve. That’s what made me think a few Zantac washed down with a tall cup of wine would take of the edge and then I could enjoy a serious chillax on the couch. “Never again!” How many times have I said that?
If I was still feeling weird the wine successfully masked the sensation. Done with the mind numbing exercise of staring at the glowing colored pixels shooting out from the TV screen and processing worthless information that is supposed to entertain me. Now I’m just flat out tired as shit and I need to get to bed. It would be the last time.
I woke from my sleep, or that is I thought I woke, but I wasn’t really awake. It was a surreal state. My eyesight was strained kinda like I was looking through the thick bottom of a coke bottle. Not so much blurry as if I was seeing ten dimensions and they overlapped causing an almost fractured view of the world. But what world? I mean like where the fuck am I? Think back JT, where was the last place you were? Oh my god a delicious bacon cheeseburger with a….Fucking A, a ton of cholesterol laden bricks fell on my head! I had a fucking heart attack! This is it! I’m dead. Now I’m gonna find out now what happens next right? Right??
I finally started to put it together. I’m dead as a doornail yet I can still think. Is this that phenomenon of life after death? I can see my body but I cant feel anything so why am I still thinking? What am I here for? I took stock of the room. The walls seemed almost oval and I am encased in water yet I’m breathing normal. Some kind of joke or something? I’m back in the womb? No, its not that, I’m not being reborn but I see a kind of tunnel to the right, and a stairwell to the left. Could this be my final decision? Was I completely wrong about God and all the mystery surrounding him or her? Am I stuck between heaven an hell? The tunnel like thing is sorta dark so that must be hell, and the stairwell is lit up at the top so that must be heaven. Okay JT, time to choose. One glance down the tunnel revealed absolutely nothing but darkness so the decision was pretty easy. Up the stairwell I go.
As I ascended the steps I couldn’t feel my feet. I didn’t so much walk as I did float up the steps slowly, one at a time. The tension was building up and I was anxious to see what was at the top. When I arrived there was a beautiful image looking at me and straight away I could somehow tell she knew everything about me. I knew instinctively that if I were going to plead my case this was the time and she was the person. Time to get pro-active.
“I made some pretty bad decisions, didn’t I?” She looked at me knowingly and shook her head. In the most soothing voice she said, “Yes JT, you have made some very poor choices which caused undue harm to people who did not deserve it. On the other hand you have helped out a great many of people as well.” Hope rose up in my throat like magma burning to escape. “That’s true, I did, I helped so many people in many ways. I know I made some mistakes but I did a lot of good too. Right?” I can’t be sure but I think I was breathing hard. If I was even breathing at all. She smiled and it lit her face up. I got a closer look. Her hair was light brown and hung around her face in slight curls. So thick an full her locks were billows of blustery clouds. Her face was perfectly round and beautiful. Somehow she looked like every girl and woman I have ever known. Slightly raised sleek forehead one moment, perfectly flat and silky smooth the next. Her face was absolutely wrinkle free and she had a nose that epitomized the button mushroom one second then jutted out regally the next. It was quite disconcerting and confusing. . By far the most intriguing and alluring part of her face were her eyes. I was peering directly into two mirrors aflame and with burning life. Her thin warm lips did not move so I assumed it were those reflective orbs that spoke directly to my soul. “You know JT, it had taken you many a year to learn the preciousness of life and you have been so very honorable to so many, yet you did not take much care of your own well being.” I knew she was right, I have a long history of various forms of self medication, I didn’t get check ups and tests as was suggested, I ate and drank many things I knew were not good for me, and overall took little care of the maintenance of my body outside of daily personal hygiene. “True that Ms. Spirit, I have put others ahead of myself but isn’t that a good thing? I mean, I care for many others and not taking care of myself was more or less a well deserved self punishment right? Those who have little give everything and take nothing, or something like that. I’m paraphrasing here but it is true, I forsook of myself so that others may benefit from my deeds.” I closed my eyes so she couldn’t see my fear, but of course she’s not human so I have no idea what she may be seeing. “That’s what we’re here to decide JT, whether or not your deeds and attributes outweigh your mistakes and earned you the right to hear the truth.” I looked right into those all seeing disks, “I have tried to make amends for all the stupid things I have done. I have given much of myself and here it is, the end. This I how it works? You choose who is worthy of going on and……and what happen to the rest, what is the fate if you decide they are unworthy? Are you God?”. Again the smile which by this time was actually beginning to piss me off with its condescending sneer. A belly laugh from this female god faker seemed almost evil and my mood was changing rapidly. Was she laughing at me? “It doesn’t matter who I am JT, and as for you the decision was made long ago by you. I’m not real because you created me JT, I am a sort of collage of lives that have been central to yours. Do you see your mother in me? I know you do, they all do.” Now anger was rapidly being replaced by confusion. What the hell does she want from me? I created her, are you fucking serious? But here it was, an image I apparently conjured up from people I love or loved and it’s already been decided what my fate will be.
“So what happens now?” My spidey senses were tingling, or I think they were, not really sure of anything anymore. “Now its time for you to go see the creator.” She said it so matter of fact and non chalant. Her words hung around like a morning mist lingering the mountaintops waiting for the sun burn away the fog. I hoped she was preparing to shine a clearing light of knowledge. But the words themselves betrayed and threatened all my beliefs. Thoughts swirling in a vortex of confusion I uttered the most appropriate response I could muster with what little strength I had. “ You mean God?” I just stared at the woman I had begun to think might be God and she smiled that so familiar smile that seemed to warm my soul and put me at ease. I couldn’t move or talk, could only observe. “Relax JT, its nothing to be alarmed of. There is no one God as you have been taught. You are God, and I am God. Trees and bees and lions and tigers and bears are God. Everything you have ever loved is God. You are not meeting God you are going to see the truth. The creator has the truth JT, and the truth has been waiting for you. It’s time for you to meet the creator. Go to the bottom of the staircase.”

Why Cupcakes? Blame It On The Munchies

WTF is in my cart?
How does one change their culinary discipline from making killer sauces to top on exotic sautéed fish to baking sweet sugary cupcakes? Why from having the munchies of course. The change hit me like an epiphany on roller skates speeding down the snack aisle of a supermarket. Devil Dogs to my left, Little Debbie’s to my right, and mallow mars dead ahead. No iceberg in sight. Not a single healthy choice within ten feet. Not that it mattered, I had just finished a bowl of chronic and I had an unusually advanced case of munchy-itis! That maddening after effect of herbal induced euphoria that has one believing they haven’t eaten in a week. And worse, the antidote for the unbearable hunger pains lies only in sweets, not in health foods. I remember my Mom staring at me suspiciously when I came home at 1230AM with my foolish smile and vacant stare as I loaded up my bowl with cocoa puffs. Ironically, a cereal bowl after an evening filled with many bowls of blissful herb.
Of course she had good reason to suspect foul play, I was friggen stoned off my ass. When I finally moved out on my own it was completely different. Mostly because I never had any foods in the fridge. Well nothing that didn’t resemble a science project on mold growth anyway. So instead of being smart and shop the next morning to fill up the cupboards, I did what any self respecting stoner would. I went to A&P. The Ho-Ho’s were singing sweet melodies and the Ring Dings were ringing and rocking directly at me. Chips Ahoy jumped in my cart by themselves. Nothing of interest in produce, meats, or dairy. Wait!? I spoke to soon, there in the dairy section, amongst various types of % milks, half and half, whipping cream, and creamers at the most beautiful sight. Chocolate milk!!! Oh sweet heaven, milk made tasty. Where ever those chocolate cows live is where I want to move. But for now, IN THE CART! When I got to check out I watched as everything made its way down the conveyor, and it all looked great. The cashier looked at me and I knew she knew I was high, but then I feared everyone did, and she said, “74.23” WTF??? How could I spend that much on just crap foods? That my friends, was the epiphany.
That’s when I knew it was right to switch my area of cooking expertise from regular foods to sweet treats. And what better than cupcakes? So now, at the bakery I am “The Cupcake Dude.” Here where I use up my leftover creative juice I am “The Existential Baker”. Names are important. But more on that next time when I introduce my next new cupcake, “Sins Not Tragedies.”………………………PEACE

Life During Wartime

In the backrop of the Viet Nam war we heard of kis being killed on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. JT never once believed his brother James would be one of those statitics. It was an uneasy time and the youth of America learned firt hand how to self medicate.

I Heard The News Today Oh Boy

We partied through the night, Patrick tried once to put the move on Sue but I took him aside and set him straight. No harm no foul, it was the ludes that really made the move and Patrick wasn’t the kind of guy that would steal his friend’s girl. That is to say not without being coerced by a number of Quaaludes and herbs. It was late and time to head home so the three of us headed out. We first dropped Sue off at her house, then Carrie and I hid in the bushes just on the side of her house. We made out for ten minutes and we both wanted to make love, but doing it on her front lawn was not a good move. It was late and we had nowhere to go to exercise our throbbing hormones so time to cold shower our desires. I gave her one last kiss goodnight and began my trek home.
A myriad of thoughts were flooding my head and I began hallucinating wildly. This was a common practice when you have been trying to maintain all night so no one would know you were tripping. When you let your guard down the hallucinations flowed with the fury and passion of young love. Which by no accident was one of those swirling thoughts. The smile on my face was so huge that my ears had to take a step back and make more room. The delirious joy from the ludes and the spiritual wonder of the mushrooms had begun a tag team match. They both won and I felt unbelievably great. “Jesus shit, nothing in the world could possibly take me down. Not nothing!!” But as we have learned, never say never.
I walked up the driveway and noticed the kitchen light was on. “Oh fuck. Someone’s awake, this can’t be good.” I walked into the house with an uneasy feeling. That wonderful feeling of good life was quickly replaced with trepidation. I could hear my Mom whimpering in the kitchen. When I walked into the kitchen I could feel the tension in the air. It was obvious Mom had been crying for some time. The old man just stared at the floor with a blank expression on his face. “Whats going on?” The silence only made the tension more evident. After about 10 seconds of eerie nothingness my Pops broke the spell. “We got a visit from the army. James was killed in battle.” Mom broke out in a renewed set of loud heaving cries that I was sure had been going on for quite a while. I knew it. Jesus shit I fucking knew this was gonna happen! The rage built up quickly and I felt my face fill with anger, sorrow, and total disdain. I looked over to my old man and he never took his eyes off the floor. Not even the balls to look me in the eye. I glared at him and all I could think of was how Ken had described punching his old man out. I wanted to go over and wail on him but my Moms crying stopped me. I walked over to hug her and my eyes filled up with salty rivers of sorrow. I began to cry as well and just held her tight as she cried in my arms. My whole world was now upside down, inside out, half assed, and backwards. The various drugs teamed up with the raw emotion and the result was a vortex of confusion.
Mom had an empty soul at that moment. Her eyes were empty, all red and beaten not just from tears but from many years of worry and stress over her kids. I knew I was a major contributor to the weathered and worn orbs and felt somewhat ashamed at the moment. Her expression was blank, vacant. I had never seen anyone so detached and it worried me. As I held her I reflected on the better times James and I had, arm punch contests, purple nurples, and wet willies aside we were very tight as kids. Jameson always let me play ball with him and his friends and I thought back to the time when we played quarterback and helped me score my first touchdown. “Okay JT, you take one step over the line, I’m throwing you the ball. You catch it, turn and run to the endzone.” Ha, the endzone. An obscure piece of real estate in between two large trees. The promised land of schoolyard football. He then turned to the rest of the guys in the huddle. “Any one of you mother fuckers lets JT get touched by anyone gonna get their ass kicked by me!” We laughed for days because I caught it, turned and ran my little ass off down the field and James and his friends used the most unethical and illegal forms of blocking, but not a soul touched me. For weeks all anyone talked about in my Jr. High school was how JT made a touchdown playing football with the high school kids. It was gold. Jesus shit I’m gonna miss James.
I looked my Mom in the eye and said “Mah, remember the time James was chasing me around the house and I ran through the sliding screen door Dad had put in that morning? I thought you were gonna kill us both.” I could see the smile taking root on her face and her eyes lit up just a tiny bit for the first time since she got the news. “Oh good god JT, you two were such terrors. You have no idea how much you guys put me through.” Mission accomplished, Mom was now reflecting fondly too. We exchanged stories for what seemed like hours, but it just felt good just to not see her crying. As for the old asshole, still not a word. Most likely he was wallowing in guilt and remorse. He was pounding down beer after beer and he looked drunk. I almost felt sorry for him because his sorry ass aura had no glow at all. Nothing, nada, zilch! Zero emotion as though he didn’t even have it in him to shed a tear. Beneath those eyes it was an empty sandlot.
I sat up with Mom for a few more hours until the sun began to shed light on what was a normal day for everyone else. Mom offered to make breakfast but I declined. My head was now pounding from the loss of James compounded by a killer hangover that promised to take residence. My worst fear compounded booze and drugs. Fuck this war. Fuck this world! I went to my room slapped on the headphones and lay on the bed, not even bothering to take off my clothes. I have no idea how long it took, but I stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep. I slept hard all the time hoping when I woke up it will all have been just some shit ass dream.

Making A Banshee Scream Using Only A Cupcake

The Cupcake That Made A Banshee Scream

A special St. Pats cupcake may be normal but The Screaming Banshee cupcake is paranormal!. Every year around this time we take out our Saint Patrick’s cupcakes specials and parade them around. No floats, bagpipes, or Grand Exalted Marshal of the shamrocks. No Mayors, marching bands, or baton twirlers. But what we do is bring our most popular celebratory cupcake of the year, The Screaming Banshee out from the woodwork. Daring anyone within taste bud range to rain on it’s parade it will march front and center on Sunday. The jig is up so keep your shamrocks, Kiss Me I’m Irish buttons, and the wearin’ o’the green. That’s not how I envision being Irish. When I imagine Ireland it conjures up other images. Leprechauns, pots of gold, rainbows, and those not so friendly ghosts, the screaming banshees. Screaming banshee cupcake? Seriously why? The Screaming Banshee in Irish legend is a spirit of a woman who moans woefully as someone is about to die. That doesn’t sound like a nice premise for a sweet little cupcake, but after all this special treat is…….TO DIE FOR!!
Here at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes however we think it’s worth living for. What kind of a cupcake could possibly have enough chops to honor this female spirit that makes shrill sounding utterances to coax the reapers of the underworld? What on gods green Eire can make banshee a special wondrous snack? My goal is to make it magically delicious. I asked myself what flavors for a cupcake rise to the level of Irish mythology? To start, I made the batter. Devils food cake of course, except I made mine using Guinness Stout. A dark stout for a dark spirit. The important thing to remember when making a Guinness chocolate cake is to overbuy the evil liquid. That way as the banshee cakes are cooking I can finish the remaining Guinness. Now for the filling, something strong and Irish. After consuming the leftover dark brew I’m left feeling slightly incomplete. What I need is a shot or four of some Irish whisky. MMMM, whiskey.
Whiskey is Gaelic for “water of Life”, or “lively water”. It’s a distilled beverage made from grains and is alcohol legend in history. The wild west was weaned on whisky in saloons, and its what the bootleggers loved to boot. Yahoo, mountain dew, the official beverage of the Blue Ridge Mountains. (and Appalachians too) . Across Europe whisky was distilled and consumed from back in the 3rd century. It spread quickly across to the UK and spread gigantic smiles on the faces of the Irish and Scottish lucky enough to have barrels on hand. There in that little corner of the world is where they brought whisky to new heights. It brought consumers to new heights as well and is likely why the Irish are so well known for having a penchant for imbibing. The Scotts even have a special whisky category with the creative name of Scotch Whisky. So whisky custard it is!
To make the whisky custard more evenly palatable is a tad tricky. I don’t want my cupcake to burn going down but I want to highlight the wonderful oak flavor and have just enough to not make you smile in a drunken stupor but to accentuate the smile brought about from eating. There is some controversy over whether cooking eliminates or lessens alcohol content so the first decision I made was not to cook the whisky at all. That removes all doubt, you will taste and feel the whiskey. I chose to add it raw to the custard. I make my vanilla custard a smidge thicker than usual and temper the whisky with some molasses. The molasses gives the whisky a smooth an sweet flavor and softens the strong oaks notes in the booze. And as the custard cools I slowly stir in the tasty hooch making sure to lick my fingers when completed. Now the Banshee is just about ready to make you scream.
The topping of the cupcake is of great importance. It not only is the first image one gets of the mini cake but it serves to give the cupcake sense of Nirvanic completion, a cosmic recognition, and it bridges the tower of flavors created underneath it. The topping gives the cupcake it’s propers and lends to it’s overall credibility. A nice rosette of whipped cream using a pinch of whisky in place of vanilla, then a coating of green sprinkles leaves no doubt as to its Irish origin. You may not find a leprechaun hiding a pot of gold here at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes, but one bite from a screaming Banshee and you will feel like the richest person in town. Just remember that The Screaming Banshee cupcakes is safe and fun and meant to enhance your eating experience, not overpower it. Never abuse cupcakes, moderation is the key…………………….Peace

Post Papal Blues

Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden because of their inter-racial relationship. The farmers and Shepherds are at war….this is how it happened according to the gospel of darknesss…..
Part II…The Mosey Chroicles
Cry me a rainstorm
From the day Cain Had murdered Abel, The Aggies and The Shepherds engaged in battles. Battles of words, of wits, and of fists and kicks. Adam and Eve were completely oblivious to the warring, not having seen anyone other than Cain and Abel. Having not enjoyed the outcome of those visitors they had to do something, so Adam just buried Abels body. (Actually he placed Abel in his compost, but told Eve he had buried him) They never spoke of that day again and lived together in a blissful love shack. Nature was taking its course and interrupted the lovemaking by offering them a child. Eve gave birth to a son, and they had no name book to look through so just called him Noah. Noah was a complete pairing of both Adam and Eve. He grew up practicing both of their cultures and became adept at both farming and herding. “The best of both worlds” Adam always claimed. But Noah added another dimension as well. As he grew Noah became extremely handy and was quite a builder. He built complex fences so Eve had an easier time keeping the animals in, and he built rudimentary Farm tools to assist his father working the fields. He also built a large structure with separate rooms to replace the customary hut. This came in very handy on days or nights when the rain fell. The three were very happy, but the addition of Noah impeded tremendously on Adam And Eves lovemaking. Adam was heard complaining on many occasion how “I hope this is just a temporary glitch in our marriage. I sure hope this doesn’t become a trend in marriages forever.” Eve on the other hand did not miss it anywhere near as much as Adam, and rarely complained. They did however find some time to engage in the lovemaking that had been so intense at one time, and Eve found herself with a baby filling her belly a second time. Adam was said to be having mood swings going from happy to be having another child, to saddened that he cannot make love any longer. Such is life, he thought. One of the reasons Adam and Eve Had found alone time was that Noah, having both a pension for and a love of building things had built a floating room. He would take this room and bring it down to the river and go rafting. It was great fun for him, and he got better and better at building things that float. He had a floating chair, a floating bed, of course his floating room, and he even had a floating doghouse for his pet dog! Building things was not Noahs only talent. While farming he learned how to ferment grapes and made some drink he called wine, which made him feel real good. Noah took this wine on his floating room cruises and went exploring just about every day. During one of these explorations he came across a young lady from a wandering tribe of neither shepherds nor farmers. She belonged to a tribe that called themselves hunters who killed the wild animals that roamed this side of the world. She did not communicate very well and the wine made it more difficult to talk, but had a curious effect on her physical communication skills. They quickly came to an understanding similar to that his parents had come to so many years ago. Noah and his mate experienced blissful encounters in the wilds from the other side of the river on a regular basis. Noah was not even sure what her name was because as I said, she did not speak very well, but he called her by the name other members of her tribe called their spouses, Ballinchane So Noah and Ballinchane met secretly in the No Tell Grow Well Garden every opportunity allowed them.
Things were moving at a rapid pace. Eve gave birth to another boy they named Ham, ensuring his place in the future as a prolific pig farmer and creator of the B in a BLT. Noah and Ballinchane became united in a secret ceremony at the hunters temporary village. Their leader had given her to him as a thank you for the barrels of wine Noah had left for the tribe. Life was hard and farming the land was taking its toll on Adam. He had some bad luck with his crops and the soil had dried out and not very suitable for growing anymore was poor. Anticipating a disaster he asked Noah to build them a floating home, not just an SRO room so they could go down the river and find new land better suited for crop growing. Of course Noah jumped at the chance, and made two huge rafts, big enough to hold all of them, all of their herds, and whatever crops that could be saved.
Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe Adam had seen a fortune teller, but the timing could not have been better. An unusually harsh rain began to fall which would have decimated the crops and drowned the animals. Adam, Eve, and Ham got on one covered raft with half the herd, and Noah and Ballinchane took the other half of the herd on their covered raft. They headed down river together until they came upon a fork in the water. Noah took the left fork so he and his wife got the forty day and forty night plan south toward the resort towns of Sodomy and Gonorrhea , and Adam took his family northeast on the same 40/40 plan to Greece, where he would eventually write the Iliad and the odyssey, and become the foremost authority on Greek mythology. As they parted, Noah yelled “Son, beware of geeks bearing gips”

The sins of the father

When the forty day vacation had ended for Noah and his floating zoo, they docked in a two town resort area along the Nile called Sodomy and Gonorrhea. Everyone got off two by two and the animals roamed the town because Noah had forgotten to pack the fences. “The Eternal Burning Hot Place with it, come on Ballinchane, lets go do up the town and have some fun. And fun they had, finding beverages far more potent than his jungle juice wine that did him so well in his homeland. This S&G had some liquid shit so potent that it put hair on his chest. So potent it put hair on Balanchine’s chest making her look very French. Oddly aroused by this sight, Noah couldn’t help himself and enlisted the both of them in an orgy on the second floor. For the next four nights they drank and danced and had sex and drank some more. They moved to the third floor which was reserved for couples who liked to swing, and Noah and Ballinchane became very close with another couple, Abraham and Sarah. Again the partying continued until the seventh day, when Abrahams brother Narco came to them with a warning. Abraham, quite drunk at the time slurred a sentence to his brother. “Narco, what in the name of imaginary messiahs are you doing here? I have told you time and time again I don’t want to play hide the commandment with you.” But Narco was not there bearing good news. “My brother, I want to hide nothing on you this night. I have come to warn you that the police are going to raid Sodomy and Gonorrhea to rid it of all that is evil. They plan on choosing 50 people not engaging in raucous behavior and send them inland to Egypt and destroy everything else.” All
four of the sexual revelers sat up straight and watched as their respective buzzes flew out the window and staggered down the street. “Holy shit guys, we gotta get the fuck out of here and be part of the 50 righteous non-raucous peoples.” All were in agreement with Abraham, they thanked his brother Narco and put on their clothes.

Potsink Diaries

If You Can’t Stand A Dead Rat Get Out Of The Kitchen
My gastronomic voyage had officially begun. I dove in with a work ethic beyond reproach. I scrubbed and cleaned pots and pans until my fingers acquired the same status Mother Nature gives to prunes and raisins. I happily mopped the floors and cleaned ovens. I was willing to do any thankless job they sent my way. I then learned about one of the mysterious job tasks held by any great chef. A great Chef has the keen acumen into the driving desire of a young pot washer’s eagerness to please. Jimmy picked up on this rather quickly, and informed me of a special “time” in restaurants, when things were quiet. He called it “downtime”. Downtime sounded harmless when I first heard it escape from Jimmy’s lips, and I thought it might be cool. JT my boy” intoned my illustrious leader, “Ees a little slow tonight. Looksa like we have some downtime.”
Well I could barely contain myself. An opportunity has arisen for me to show everyone how gracefully I would be able to handle this newfound downtime. It never occurred to me that the word itself could enlighten me as to what may be in store. The Chef planned to put me “down” and keep me “down”, by assigning me an assortment of unmemorable chores that will get me “down” in the dumps. As for the “time” portion of my endeavor, it actually meant time consuming. Flagrantly left out of the phrase was tedious. It should be called tedious downtime. This inspirational portion of the evening I get to perform seemingly insignificant time consuming tasks. Did I mention tedious? There are various levels of joy associated with downtime tasks. It could range from the somewhat joyless job of peeling 50 – 100 pounds of potatoes, to the absolute joy depleting role of shrimp peeler. How many shrimp can people eat anyway. Don’t they know you are what you eat? Inclusive of all these food related tasks, are a mysterious set of thankless jobs given the official name of maintenance. I say mysterious, because I could never figure out how washing the Chef’s car in any way contributed to the dining experience. But wash it I did, along with every piece of kitchen equipment, and every floor within a 5 mile radius. On this particular evening, I was mopping the downstairs. A serene and peaceful place where all foods and food products meditate. They remain at the Storage Inn, a kind of bread and breakfast for the grocery set, until they are summoned upstairs to become part of something monumental. In a back room, seldom used, was where I was sent. Upon arrival, my keen observation noted two non-moving members of the family rodentia lying on the floor. Damn they looked gross. Summoning all my energy to keep my dinner where it belonged, I walked into the next room and informed Edwin, the Chefs nephew or “senior potwasher” whose true job and intellect were yet to be determined. He was however, assisting me, and his having been here so long gave him a queer aura of authority. “Hey Edwin man, there are two dead rats in the extra room.” Edwin’s English was worse even than Jimmies, and he just repeated what what what and stared at me puzzled. So of course I motioned with my hands as I said very slowly, for some reason believing that would help and I said. “Next room….dead rats…” This is too fucking tedious, and I needed a cigarette so I lit up and walked out of the room until I heard the blood curdling scream followed by a pounding of wood to wood. I ran to Edwin and there he was still screaming and beating those two already dead rats as if they were zombie rodents rising from the dead. Hard as I tried, the sight of Edwin clutching a broom and beating the shit out of two dead rats took over every rational bone in my body and I broke out in a laugh so fucking hard if Jimmy and Didier had seen me upstairs they would have felt like rank chuckle amateurs. Tears forced their way across my cheeks like rivulets of saline. I had to hold my stomach and fall to the floor in an epileptic fit of uncontrollable laughter. To date this may have been the funniest thing I had ever seen in my life. This is restaurant life. Now my mood was great. Hope it lasts.
Just when I thought Edwin couldn’t make me laugh any harder he moved into action. At first I was repulsed and grossed out to the max. With his bare fucking hands he grabbed one dead rat in each hand, looked at me with a dopey smile that had me wondering if he smoked my hash and said, “Come witta me JT. We godda bigga sue-prize forra da cheff.” With the rats dangling at his sides he climbed up the stairs like happy from the seven dwarfs. When he reached the top he made room for me to stand next to him and he held these dead god damn rodents as high as his arm would allow and yelled loud enough so the entire kitchen could hear. “Hey Cheff…..Lookit a what we gotta for you soup!” As the chef and company began laughing wildly I looked on in horror. “Jesu shit Ed, you can’t bring thee disease ridden mother fuckers in a kitchen!” Mortified I looked around and everyone was laughing except Laura. Oh Jesus I thought, she’s the only other one grossed out besides me. Jimmy yelled back, “getta Jense inna here, we gotta special entrée tonight.” The laughter continued and Edwin took the rats back downstairs’ and no sooner did he get to the bottom when he tripped and fell allowing the lifeless rats to go airborne.. I ran down to see if he was okay and he was frozen on the ground looking up in horror. Across the room was our illustrious asshole manager with a face so red I thought the beets would turn green with envy. Over one shoulder hung one of the dead rats, the other at his feet. His eyes were exploding volcanoes and if had found the capacity to speak it would have flowed a molten lava of pissed off. I had to leave because my head was about to pop from not laughing at the sight and air was forcing its way through my nostrils. I knew if I let my tears of joy flow I would have have lost my job, and I was thinking Edwin may have already lost his. I will never ever forget the look on Didier’s dead rat slapped face. This too shall pass.
Damn that was a rough night I thought as I stopped at the corner of my block that had once served as my bus top. I reached to the bottom of my front pocket and pulled out the tiny piece of aluminum foil Ken had left me, then pulled my trusty hash pipe from my other pocket and unraveled the leftover piece of black hash. “One or two more hits before heading home.” As I lit the hash I thought about how funny it was that I was talking to no one, yet it felt like it needed to be said. I held the smoke from this sweet relief in my lungs and smiled at my ritualistic behavior. As I exhaled I let out a chuckle, remembering Didier, the dead rats, and Ernie ineffectively beating the shit out of them with that broom. Can’t wait to tell Ken all about it tomorrow. “But for now, one last hit before going home.”

A French Fry By Any Other Name

Word to Your Spud
Potatoes. The Goth’s of the veggie world. Cut out it’s eyes, rip off its skin, or bake it alive an it‘s happy as a chowder clam. It’s still satisfies despite the poor treatment. And this coming weekend Potatoes are front and center for St. Pat. Spuds will get their proper respects by being part of an internationally celebrated St. Patrick’s Day tradition, the corned beef and cabbage dinner. Wait!! Now that I think about it not very respectful to this tuber. Not even a mention in the dishes name. Why the hell isn’t it a potato, corned beef, cabbage and carrot dinner? The potato has been one of the most loyal and versatile foods in history. Why these starchy delicious starches have been around longer than the Inca’s even inhabited its birth land. Estimated to have made the scene sometime between 8000 an 5000 BCE this now undisputed king of starchy sides was ripped from the Inca kitchens and transported all the way back to Spain, where they ungratefully prefer rice!! Undaughnted by the apparent haters the tater spread through Europe and became an important crop all over the world. Such a regal line the potato had few challengers to its throne due to being genetically challenged in diversity and was not imitated with the usual number of varietal clones. That led to the (Not So) Great Potato Famine that nearly decimated Ireland and leaving those corned beef pots spudless.
Undeterred by a lack of genetic engineering it didn’t take long before we humans added hundreds of new varieties, and even a new color or two. The potato stands alone as a global masterpiece of nature. Every continent, every culture, and every kitchen on earth bows to it’s infinite array of uses. A thickening agent, a must have in chowders, an arsenal of side uses that rival the chickens reign of culinary versatility, a research plant, skin burn protector, adhesives and quite possibly a source of biodegradable plastic in the near future. It’s even used to distill for alcohol in the making of delicious hearty and buzz worthy vodka, Scandinavia’s unusual caraway flavored Aquavit, and Poland’s Potcheen, an alcoholic beverage so freaking potent it was banned in Ireland for over a century. Yes the potato, such a superhero of the culinary set it should be marketed wearing a cape and a giant “P” on its chest! ….maybe not , but you dig what I‘m saying!!
So this St. Paddy’s day go ahead and cook or enjoy your traditional Irish one pot meal, but when you do take a minute or two out to salute that iamond in the ruff Gothic starch that has an entire year dedicated to it. That’s right, I said an entire year. In 2008, The United Nations convened in an attempt to give the potato is due by proclaiming it The International Year Of The Potato. But even then it got dissed as they forced it to share it’s 366 days of that leap year. 2008 was also the International Year Of Sanitation. Cleanliness is next to godliness, an the potato stood side by side with sanitation so by my calculations, potatoes ARE godliness. So enjoy, and if you are feeling the activist maybe even start a petition to officially rename the classic Irish meal Corned Beef and Potato!!…………………Peace

Cosmo and The Garden Earth, an excerpt

The First Extinction
Cosmo surveyed his round global garden and noticed a huge land mass which he had called Pangea. It was enormous but completely unadorned and surrounded in entirely by water. Cosmos first brilliant concept was born. Edible vegetation. He developed gargantuan trees and shrubs which would absorb energy from the sun and convert it into oxygen. Now he could create some creatures and they would have food and be able to breath. Brilliance had come to Cosmo in a dream. He was being chased by a creature with a long neck and large mouth with sharp teeth. This would be his first creature. What should he name this creature? Jar Jar Brinks? No, that’s stupid. He thought out loud. “Lets see, the creature was chasing me and my buddy Steggo and when it got near it bit Steggo’s ass. Steggo yelled out damn man, now my ass is sore and.” He stopped in mid sentence. “That’s it! I’ll call him sore ass! No, not sore ass, Steggo’s sore ass. To avoid any divine libel law suits it was suggested he make it one word. It sounded smart and sophisticated as stegosaurus so he went with that. Now for some other creatures for stegosaurus to play with.
So Cosmo created an assortment of giant creatures. Long necks, smaller faster creatures, a few with wings, and one really scary one. He made up weird names for them like Stegosaurus, brontosaurus, Pterodactyl (He also invented the silent letter which would cause all sorts of shit in years to come), and his personal favorite, the frightening one, Tyrannosaurus Rex. For weeks the great god Cosmo played with his new dinosaurs. He started to get a little worried when he saw them chewing on the tops of all his beautiful vegetation, but realized that they needed to eat something. My creator almighty they have appetites bigger than their damn bodies. Seems the more they ate the more they expelled from there butts. Some of it a horrible almost violent smelling gas which was a bit of an embarrassment to Cosmo when other gods came to view his garden. But the solid stuff actually deteriorated and made the trees and shrubs grow even better. It seemed like a perfect system. Everything depended on everything else to survive. The sun gave everything energy and sucked up water to make clouds, the clouds returned water to cool things off in the garden and help grow the vegetation. The vegetation gave air and food for the creatures , and the creatures pooped out food to feed the vegetation. A cycle was created which Cosmo referred to as “The cycle of life.” A theme that would forever define his garden no matter what thrived in the garden beds.
One morning while sipping some of his favorite caffeinated breakfast beverage, Thors Thunderbolt, Cosmo noticed some strange things happening in his garden. His creatures appeared to be having sex, and Pangea was becoming very crowded with baby creatures. Having sex also seemed to make the creatures very hungry and they were eating twice as much as usual. One particular bush or rather one particular weed actually seemed to give them voracious appetites. Not just for food, but for sex. Cosmo won’t swear to it but he believed it made his creatures laugh. At the very least they smiled more than normal. He wondered if it was co-incidence, or if the cannabis bush had some unusual qualities to it so he took a few homegrown plants to try himself. He decided he would let them dry then smoke them after dinner. As he continued to survey Pangea another curious practice was observed. The creatures seemed to be fighting each other which was not really a colossal deal but it appeared that the winners where actually eating the losers. Believing it to be from the cannabis he referred to the practice as canibisalism. He opted not to try smoking the shit just yet. The eating of the other creatures seemed to make the eaters even stronger. He would need to keep an eye on these developments.
As time passed more and more creatures were killing each other and eating the remains. And damn were they multiplying. They engaged in sex virtually everyday and babies were everywhere. Every day there seemed to be more and more, and nearly all the vegetation had been eaten. Not only that but they began biting kicking and scratching each other for no apparent reason. Many fights seemed to be over who had more dangling under their tail or who was going to screw the better looking female dinosaurs. Many times these fights caused some to fall down never to get back up. Cosmo was not happy with the with these developments at all. His garden of creatures was turning into a giant fiasco. His giant behemoth experiments were much to big and clumsy. He decided he needed to start over and this time start with much more compact set of creatures. First though he needed to extinguish and cover up the debacle of the dinosaur.
His first thought was to go subterranean. He began to churn up the ground at different points of the land mass Pangea. The shifting of dirt created numerous effects. The mass of land split in various places and Pangea began to break up into smaller lands. A few dinosaurs fell off the edges, but for the most part they rode the land mass that they happened to reside on and just sort of relocated. Two chunks of dirt headed out quickly, one due north and one due south. Each went as far as it could go until it turned into a giant massive snowball. Every Dinosaur on these arctic edges froze along with it. The other land masses fared much better. Cosmo needed names now for the different masses. On the east he had North Columbia and South Columbia. Way across the newly formed ocean there was a dark mass he called Afrika, and a huge piece he called Eurasia. A smaller mass slipped down under while a very green land went slightly north. He would name them later. As for the dinosaurs they had begun to change and were ironically defined by their land masses. The creatures in North Columbia grew more aggressive body parts, like large razor sharp teeth, pointed spiny tails, and large muscular arms. Cosmo believed they actually thought themselves superior and tried to make all the others live the way they did. Pretentiousaurus! The dinosaurs in Africa were very wild and it took on a predatory nature of survival of the mightiest. In Eurasisa half fancied themselves the more sophisticated and chic while the other half absolutely excelled in math. They had all begun to mutate body parts that were used as weapons or as protective amour. Spiny heads and necks, horns, shells, claws, Talons, scales and many other features that assisted warfare or survival. They began cross breeding and a host of new genus’s were born. Now we had some walking on two legs, some on four, some eating only vegetation, some only other dinosaurs, and many eating both. The flying dinosaurs alone mutated into over 500 species. The fights became rampant and more frequent and quite frankly it was pissing Cosmo off a bit. The shifting of the land also had an effect on the once enormous Pangera sea which was all the water surrounding Pangea. The other lands had created borders which split the Pangea sea into vast oceans. New weather patterns and water currents came into play, and many of the places he churned up dirt had formed piles, ranging from tiny molehills to humongous mountains that reached up towards the sky. At first Cosmo tried to make all the dirt piles as majestic as the giant ones but he quickly learned not to make a mountain out of a molehill.
As time went on things just got worse and worse. The changes in the garden plots were great, but the dinosaurs were out of control. In each land masses they were carrying on destroying the vegetation, trampling everything in their paths, and kicking the everlasting dinosaur shit out of each other. If that wasn’t bad enough the fornicating was maddening. No matter where you looked in the garden you could find many dinosaurs letting it all hang out ready for reproduction. Giant penispods galore. Humping and swamp hopping there was sex going on everywhere. Puddles of sperm gathered that drowned the lower vegetation and while they were knocking horns and creating future fossils it tore up the ground and caused many a fight to the death. Genus were being wiped out, it was a constant state of confusion. The trees they had eaten clear down to the roots. They simply had no respect at all for Cosmo, his garden, or each other and that was the final sipping stick! It was time for a raptor rapture!
The angry Cosmo had had it. He reached up into space and grabbed the biggest asteroid he could hold and hurled it towards earth with all his might. Had it not been an act of destruction one might have thought it a beautiful sight. Upon impact a huge explosion of colors, bright reds and yellows danced tangos across the planet. A blinding flash of white so brilliant it could be seen as far away as the Tolkien Galaxy. Flames that reached so high they tickled the moon and made it giggle and squirm. Sheer magnifigance. Why it was a fireworks display fit for the gods. But mere seconds after the glowing kaleidoscope lit up the skies, as if to remind everyone that its beauty was marred by violence, it was quickly replaced with an ear pounding roar. Burst of concussion inducing reverberation accompanied on this evening with mushroom plume of billowing smoke dressed in charcoal black from head to toe. A snap. A crackle. A pop. Within seconds garden earth became Earth Krispies. The explosion kicked up an awful cloud of dust with it that pulled the rug of sparkle pomp and circumstance right from under its cosmic ass. For the longest time Cosmo could see nothing but an enormous floating dust bunny. Virtually everything was obscured and he had no clue as to the fate of his living garden below. One thing for sure, if any of the suns rays got through at all it was undetectable. How could anything live without food, without light, without sunshine? Cosmo was absolutely certain he had lost everything. He underestimated the ultra tiny earth dwelling insect known as the cockroach. Will anything kill those bastards?
As time went by the dust began to settle it was becoming apparent not much if anything would survive. Even with only a portion of the dust gone he could see there was not much sign of life. The vegetation tried valiantly to reach back up towards the sun but with limited success. The garden seemed still and void. Even Cosmo couldn’t detect the tiny crawling cockroach foraging at the base of the vegetation. But trust me when I tell you, those cucaracha’s marched on. The once magnificent dinosaurs however were not able to crawl between any cracks and did not fare well. A massive open graveyard was all the gardening god could see. Humongous piles of giant carcasses littered the ground and whatever ground that could be seen was scorched to a grayish black. Nary a leaf or a pine cone to be found. Not even a blade of grass on this once animated garden of green and blue. Stacks of bodies and body parts could be seen everywhere with billows of smoke reaching out to the Milky Way cluster. There was a stench quite unfamiliar to Cosmo, charred flesh smelled nothing at all similar to a god BBQ. To call the aroma unpleasant would be an understatement. The forces of fetid decay banded together with burning flesh and gunpowder. The acrid odors began an all out assault that would serve as a rank reminder of the magnitude of failure here. Battalions of rotted mounds of foul fecal sewage mixed with dino debris formed an aerial assault. The army of stench marched up Cosmo’s nose and set up a camp of odiferous angry troops behind his eyes. Some salted droplets of sorrow snuck down Cosmo’s cheek which he blamed on the carousel of stink spinning in his sinuses. A giant puddle of liquid formed which Cosmo believed to be mourning dew. Mourning maybe, but make no mistake. That was no dew drop, but a god sized teardrop of profound sorrow.

The Oz Ultimatum, part II

“A Whopper, to speak in the vernacular of the peasantry”

The Wizard of Oz may be more than just a children’s story. I think it’s a tale of economic struggle, monumental greed, and depraved indifference to life. It’s the tale of a brave young woman who in the course of growing up and learning to appreciate who she is, her “inner Dorothy”, she also assists three others realize their own self worth. She teaches an uneducated scarecrow of a failure how important education is, a lonely and forgotten old warrior of a tin man allowed to rust by the society he fought (or labored) for how to love again, and a self loathing coward of a beast how to use his strength and might for the good of others. Together they learn important lessons about themselves and the world around them. All the time an evil giant corporation disguised as a witch with dollar bill green skin does everything in its power to crush them. But is this really three separate characters or is it three components of the famous Dorothy herself? Perhaps the three travelers represent the impoverished and uneducated, the forgotten warriors of life, and the meek waiting to inherit the earth. Or maybe the three travelers are really the father the son and the holy ghost. I suppose it depends on whether you believe it was a spiritual journey or a journey of self awareness.
And the wicked witch, a small business consuming corporation as I suggested or could the witch in fact be Satan and the flying monkeys natural disasters, war mongers, and other pitfalls created causing death and destruction? Is the flying broomstick a phallic symbol pertaining to Daddy issues? Is it a yellow brick road or a gold bar road? Is Emerald city a house built on expensive gems or is it a house of cards? Was Glinda a good witch or a system of co-operative management? For that matter why is there no apparent witch of the south? (In the movie version)And what of Professor Marvel, traveling con man or the wizard? Lastly, I wonder if the wizard is a wizard who will serve? The possibilities are endless and my view here is just that, a view. A piece of my childhood that I have revisited many times and looked at in many ways. Maybe it is just a children’s fantasy tale or maybe, just maybe there is a lot more to the story. If you have an adventurous imagination then take a ride with me down a dark and twisted tale that will leave you scratching your head and wondering, what the hell kind of drugs is he on now?! .
First let me take a quick overview of the movie. The movie differs slightly from the original book, so obviously I’m not the first one to take artistic freedom with story. It is the screenwriters artistic adaptation that I base my ramblings on because its by far the most familiar to most of us. In addition it being an artistically constructed interpretation already it allows me even broader interpretative freedoms.
The story begins when Dorothy is already around age 12. No one really knows how old Dorothy was because Baum never gave her a specific age. He also never gave any account of her childhood years before the story starts. I have searched for answers as to the whereabouts of Dorothy’s parents and her exact relationship with Em an Henry. Was she related on Emily’s side or Henry’s side? Did her Mom and Dad die? Finding no answer I am taking artistic license and have come up with my own scenario. Dorothy’s mother passed away during childbirth leaving her with no mother. Unable to cope with the loss of his wife and the challenges of single parenting her father ran off leaving Dorothy in an orphanage. Dorothy has no real recollection of either parent and it wasn‘t until her aunt tracked her down that she had any family at all. Her moms sister Emily adopted and raised Dorothy as her own child with her husband Henry. No one knows the whereabouts of her dad. Dorothy grows up with guilt believing it was her fault her mom died and her dad ran off. She has never had any emotional ties to a father other than Henry. So now we’re ready to get started with the brief synopsis.
Set in Kansas it’s the tale of an orphaned little girl who is largely ignored by her Aunt and Uncle who are busy trying to maintain their farm. The closest and most dear thing to her heart is her dog Toto. A mean old neighbor named Almira Gulch hates Toto and has threatened many times to “take care of that animal.”. Dorothy seeks advice from the three farmhands, Hunk, Hickory and Zeke whom appear to be her only friends. Hunk tells her to use her brain and take a different route, Zeke tells her to have courage and stand up to the mean Almira, spit in her eye! Hickory has no chance to give advice because Dorothy fall into the pig pen. So Dorothy goes off on her own and dream of a utopian place where life could be sweet. Looking to crush her dreams, enter Almira.
After complaining to Dorothy’s aunt and uncle that Toto got into her garden and even bit her this time Almira comes to take the dog away to the sheriff. She takes Toto in a basket on her bicycle and to the chagrin of Dorothy rides off with him. But Toto escapes and runs back to Dorothy. Dorothy senses problems and opts to run away with Toto and go somewhere better. She comes across a con artist transient with a wagon fullof empty promises. A storm begins to brew and the con artist has at least a sliver of morals so he entices Dorothy to go back to her home to her Aunt Em. Dorothy realizes she misses her family and runs back to the farmhouse where everyone had been preparing for a storm that was turning into a twister. Not finding Dorothy anywhere and the twister approaching quickly her aunt an uncle and three farmhands lock themselves in the cellar. Dorothy arrives home as the twister is hitting and can’t get into the locked cellar and runs into her room where a window smashes her head rendering her unconscious. She has a dream of frightening images the scariest being Almira Gulch first on a bicycle, then as a witch on a broomstick. She lands in a fantasy world of which she had dreamed was over the rainbow. The dream continues in this world which incorporates the con artist, Almira, and the three farmhands, Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke as characters other than themselves. Almira is an evil witch, Hunk a brainless scarecrow, Hickory a heartless rusted Tin Man, Zeke a cowardly lion, and the con man a wizard who is admired by all. The dream lands her in a magical colorful land of little people who send her on the yellow brick road towards the Emerald city in search of a way back home. Along the way she meets her three friends and a witch who attempts to foil her every opportunity to get home. After the long journey an many hurdles and life lessons she finally gets home where she wakes up to find it wasn’t real. But it was real! It has to be real! Oh but it couldn’t be real, be could it?
Begin at the beginning. Kansas. It is no coincidence that the story begins in Kansas. Not just because Kansas is the center of tornado activity, but because it is middle America. Kansas represents the core of America, the working class that creates some of our greatest national products. Loaded with farms both livestock and vegetation it is the homegrown hard working core of the American people. Far from the glitz and glamour of big cities. That’s where we find Dorothy, a young girl and her dog living on a farm. Dorothy is an idealistic young lady who finds her only real strength and comfort from her little dog Toto. Always by her side, Toto is a source of comfort and happiness and loyalty, all the attributes one hopes to find in family. She lives on one of those hard working farms with her aunt and uncle. She is trying desperately to get someone to listen to her about what that mean and powerful Almira Gulch did to her happiness. With the “authorities” behind her Almira is able to take from Dorothy that which matters to her most. That’s what Almira represents, maybe an IRS agent, maybe a foreclosing bank manager, or maybe a large law firm that threatens legal action because they don‘t want
happiness (Toto) to ruin the garden they have built. (there’s a law protecting folks from a dog that bites). So Almira/Wicked Witch are all about greed and take take take.
Toto escapes the clutches of eminent domain and returns to Dorothy, who believes the only chance they have at a happy life is to run away from everything. When she gets into the world outside her home the first thing she encounters is Professor Marvel, who could have been her father. At any rate the Professor seems to understand Dorothy better than anyone else. He gets that she is running away because know one at home understands or appreciates her, and she wants to see other lands, big cities. No stranger to escaping himself, it seems to me the professor is also running away. The professor is in fact Dorothy’s “Jiminy Cricket” or her conscience. Her “daddy issues” are a replacement for what her dad would have really done, he advises her to go back home because the family she does have really does love and care about her, they are just too busy to take time out for her. After looking deep inside herself, the professors crystal ball, she understands that she has left Auntie Em straddled with worry. Feeling terrible guilt Dorothy runs home as the storm is beginning to form. And it looks like a whopper. To speak in the vernacular of the peasantry!
A whopper indeed, it’s a twister it is. What is a tornado? A tornado is a violent rotating cloud that churns up everything in its path without any regard to what it destroys. It up roots long standing mighty trees, as well as farms, small businesses, homes, and families, leaving many penniless and homeless. A bank run or a stock market crash is a kind of tornado destroying many families and homes. Banks foreclose on houses leaving many people without a place to live. And as people are scrambling and willing to sell anything they had for another meal, the rich power brokers are buying, and at a remarkably cheap rate. Making the already wealthy more wealth and powerful and creating in them a vacuum of unending greed drainage. In light of economic disaster the big fish eat up the small fish until the big fish become too big to fail. The small fish become nothing more than a nuisance. That’s my take on the twister of Kansas, a vortex of volatile economic system which is only focused on making more and more bucks for the one percent while creating more and more hardship for the ninety nine percent. A global boardroom of a relentless money grabbing machine that took the farm away and left them in a strange situation. Now Dorothy really is on her own and has to find a new home, maybe somewhere over the rainbow, a beautiful world she remembers being told of once in a lullaby. A place where troubles melt, skies are blue, and dreams you dare to dream come true. But is her dream world over the rainbow, or at the end of the rainbow where she will find a pot of gold?
At any rate the events caused by the twister have brought us here. Deeper reflection reveals that during the upheaval Dorothy doesn’t get hit by an actual window but the twister has an effect none the less. The Wall Street Twister ripped apart the economy and the ruthless banks foreclosed on the farm leaving Dorothy once again homeless. She is so distraught it causes her to attempt to end all the pain of losing everything she ever had by OD-ing on Ambien. (or any other suicide drug) Dorothy doesn’t die but she falls into a deep state of REM sleep where she has the most vivid dream. A dream which may set her free! In the dream Dorothy is reborn. During the course of the rebirth the house has landed on a witch and killed her. Destroyed is the evil which left Dorothy alone in a cruel world. The witch of the east represents her feelings of her own mother, anger for leaving her and guilt for being the one who caused her death. A whirlwin of emotional turmoil that ha haunted her all those young years. These are issues she hopes to overcome by merely doing away with them. We know better though, we know what she really needs to do is confront them. Dorothy must figure out which part of her is a direct aspect of her mother. Which traits of her mom did she inherit? We will find out by evaluating what her mother left her. Ruby red slippers may hold the key to the “inner” Dorothy. First however, we must enter a new realm. Munchkinland!
To be continued

Fractured Tales of The Bible

Last chapter Adam and Eve were caught in an embarrassing love embrace and thrown out of the garden by each of their tribal leaders The farming “Aggies” and the herding “Shepherds”

The Story of Everything
The fates of Cain and Able and Global Warfare
Now quite some time had passed, and together Adam and Eve grew some fruits and vegetables, and raised some livestock making the best of both their worlds. The leaders of the tribes were not without compassion and harbored modicums of guilt. They had grown concerned for their outcasts welfare and sent their favorite spies out to find them and make sure they were doing okay. As luck would have it, well you remember lucks good fortune in stories, they both set out from each of their camps the same day. Abel from South Eden brought with him an offering of lamb, and Cain from North Eden brought with him an offering of tomatoes. Though they left simultaneously Cain arrived earlier his being a bit closer to Adam and Eves new little love nest. Cain placed his tomato offering outside the love hut and ventured inside. With Adam out tending his garden Cain came across Eve sleeping by herself. Cain stared for a long while much as Adam had so long ago. He began to feel the same funny feelings Adam exhibited. He remembered fondly the sensuous entanglements they had performed and it made him horny. Cain could’nt help himself, his ever hardening pole took control of his brain and forced him to act upon the feelings immediately. He snuck up on Eve and pulled open her loose fitted blouse, revealing her pale skinned breasts. This startled the sleeping Eve but her sound sleep left her just a tad groggy and unsure of what was going on. But Cain was in a sexual trance grabbing lustfully at her exotic looking body. He began clutching and clawing at her breasts and ripped the remaining clothes from her body leaving her naked before him. The sudden attack brought Eve immediately awake and to her senses and she loudly protested calling out for Adam. But Adam was far from earshot out in his field and completely unaware of Eves dilemma. Cain worked himself into a frenzy of sexual excitement as he gazed upon her naked body with the colorless hair covering her woman regions. The louder and more forceful her protest the more excited Cain became, throwing Eves naked body to the ground and forcing her legs apart. Again Eve screamed for Adam, but Adam was unable to hear a sound. But Eves screams did not go unheard completely, for just around the corner was Abel, the shepherd spy that had a longtime crush Eve. Instantly he recognized her voice and assumed that the long time object of his desire, of his obsession, was being beaten by the lowlife shit spreading farmer she was banished with. He let go of his lamb, trounced over Cain’s tomatoes, and grabbed Cain pulling him off of Eve and flinging him across the hut. Abel took one look at Eve he was overcome with his pent up desires and held her tightly as if she were his maiden. Eve was confused beyond belief, having gone from being raped by an Aggie to be caressed inappropriately from an old wannabe flame of a shepherd. Cain believing he had thrown Adam across the hut and incapacitated the dirty wife beater forgot why he was there and began attempting to kiss his lost love. But Cain was anything but incapacitated, he was enraged that some lamb shit stinking herder was trying to move in on his magic prize. The only thing he could think about was getting back to that most interesting looking colorless love button. Whatever obstacle that was in his way would need to be eliminated. Abel looked around and saw a carving knife, picked it up, and plunged it deep into Abel’s back. Abel let out a cough, then a moan, and dropped to the ground. Cain stared now at the lifeless body on the ground. He barely even noticed that Eve had run out of the hut crying hysterically. Cain took a minute to catch his breath and analyze his newfound situation. “Fuck” he mumbled, “I killed the fucker. Serpents shit I’m in big trouble now.” He evaluated his options and made an executive decision. He knew he could blame everything on Adam, but he had to hightail it out of there pretty quickly if it was to work. He took the knife but left the lamb and the trampled tomatoes and headed back towards Eden as he formulated his story. He wondered what might happen to him as punishment for killing another man. No one had ever done that before, so this is groundbreaking territory here. Cain rolled his eyes and said, “Fuckin’ A!”
On the way back to the Garden of Eden, unfortunately for Cain, he was confronted first by a group of Shepherds. Terrified he tried to walk past without a word. The Shepherds would have none of it and asked him where he was going. “I am on my way back to my village to report to my leader. It would be in your best interest to allow me passage.” Cain had some newfound bravado having been the first person to ever commit murder. But the Shepherds knew that he had come from the same wooded area in which their own compadre Abel had ventured just a few short hours ago. They thought something seemed odd and opted to allow their leader to figure out what to do so the largest and oldest of the Shepherds spoke up. “You will come with us stinky farmer man. I believe our leader may have some questions for you.”
Well they brought Cain to the leader and he questioned him as to where he had been. Cain may have been a murderer, but he was no liar yet. He told the leader he had been to visit the banished bi-racial couple of Adam and Eve, and was now returning to his fields to work the soil. The Leader, knowing full well he must have seen the missing member of their tribe asked, “And what of Abel, have you seen Abel the Shepherd?” Startled but still not ready to become a liar Cain chose to divert the attentions of the many eyes glaring upon him. “Am I your brothers keeper?” Cain meant to imply he had no idea and further it was not his responsibility. The Leader however did not take the bait. “I see on your feet you have a smudge of sheep shit. Where might a farmer be that he should lay his foot upon fresh lambs dung?” At this point Cain knew he was busted and believed this to finally be the time to become a liar. He raised his hands to stress his denial that he had not seen any Shepherds, not Abel and not even the one they called Eve. The mistake Cain made was raising his hands and allowing them to see the blood stains. Caught red-handed with a Mark just as plain as day, The Leader accused Cain of killing them all. “Just look at your hands,” exclaimed the Leader, “All stained red from the blood of a human perhaps even Adam or Eve.” Cain made a lame attempt at denial claiming the red to be from some tomatoes he had picked, then switching his story and claiming Abel attempted to take his life. Despite his best efforts at becoming an accomplished liar, Cain Was tied up and brought to his own village along with The Shepherd leader. They went before the Aggie Leader and an entourage of council members. Here they held what would be the first ever courtroom drama, with both sides making a case. In the end, the Aggies and The Shepherds could not come to an agreement, and instead began to war with each other. That war goes on even today, in the 20th century.