Shit My Dad Says (When He Trips On My Acid)

Alan didn’t say a word. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer, popped the top and walked out the door in silence. He got in his Volvo and sped off without ever looking back once. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t be coming back but I ran to the door hoping I was wrong as he pulled away. Sadie looked up from the sink, the sink that held her prisoner for the last eighteen years every evening after dinner. “What’s the matter Honey?” It was as though she hadn’t even noticed, “Where’d Dad go?” Sadie had a puzzled look on her face which gave way to a Stepford wife smile, “Oh he’s probably gone out to get some beer or cigarettes. I so wish he would quit smoking.” She looked up at the ceiling as if it was where life’s answers hid. Mom was clueless and I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
Alan wasn’t going out for beer or for cigarettes. He was just going out, probably not certain himself what he was in search of. One thing I was certain of is my Mom and Dad would not be living the American Dream anymore. That dream began to crumple three days ago when he went out to mow the lawn. That’s when this whole sorry situation began. I know this because when I got back to my room I could tell Dad had been snooping and missing from my desk was the hit of LSD on a life saver. Holy savior on a stick Alan was getting fucked up!
Frantic at first I thought I had been busted by my old man but when I went outside to confront him about it I could tell. My dad is tripping on my Orange Sunshine. I studied his face as he alternated between laughing at the lawn and scowling at it then looking around confused. “Oh fuck, the lawn is communicating to my old man.” That’s when I knew it was all over.
The rest of the night was surreal. He couldn’t possibly have known what was going on and the shit spinning in his head had to be freaking him the fuck out! Nothing good would come of this. That was some powerful LSD and it was gonna take my fathers brain out and rearrange in ways he’ll never understand. He’ll see things that make no sense, and make sense of things he never noticed before. I wasn’t sure if I should just watch and enjoy or intervene somehow. Either way profound changes were in store for sure. I’ve heard many a story of people that flipped out and ended up in hospitals or bunt out for life because they were giving LSD without their knowledge. This didn’t seem to be the case here, Alan was digging it. He probably thought the grass clippings were messages from God and now his life has some obscure esoteric purpose. Tonight he is acting on whatever he believes those messages meant.

Samsung and Da-Liar (A sick bastards bible selection)


Part 1

So the Israelites were really screwing up and the guy in charge was pissed. Not just casually pissed, but royally and unconditionally pissed off. The kind of pissed that goes way beyond the Thunderdome. Mad to the Max! Those ungrateful shits had to be punished so the apparition of an entity above decided they should become the slaves of the Steens of Philadelphia, better known as the Philly-Steens. The Philly-Steens were a formidable religious group who worshipped Baal and were enemies of Israelites They were ruled by King Davey Jones, a monarch that profited greatly through the use of slaves. The poor Israelites had no where to turn so they began to pray to the dude almighty who sat high above everyone. Or was that he sat above everyone while high? Whatev, they were desperate so they began to pray relentlessly.
“Please almighty authority figure, we know we fucked up big time but this king and his bitch are running us ragged and not giving us anything at all. The only feeding they do is to the lions like some damn Roman Emperor or something. We promise we will never again eat bacon and we will pray only to you the great and powerful wizard of God. You saved us once before and led us here and promised us freedom. Of course we walked and fought for years and years but when we finally got to the city of Jerum we were tired. One little fuck up and BAM, you enslave us to these Steens.” The big guy listened to this same thing day after day after day until he could take it no longer. “Okay, okay you relentless ungrateful bastards enough already. Yes you fucked up and I expect you to take your punishment like men. But noooo, you guys are always so damn whiny. Well I’m not gonna just set your asses free like that but here’s what I will do for you lazy ass mofo‘s. I will impregnate one of your ladies with a child who will grow up strong and single handedly not only destroy the Philly-Steens, but come up with a cell phone that will rival the forbidden Apple. This way I still get to watch you suffer for a while to ensure that next time I give you a command you follow it! Just please, please, please stop with your damn prayers every day, give it a rest once in a while.” With that the unseen ruler of all things ironically disappeared. Not totally stoked but happy to have something they took solace and went home to wait.
It didn’t take long at all. That is it didn’t take long for him to choose which maid he would fill to the brim with divine potent power sperm. It was in the suburb of Galaxy he went to fornicate himself up a child who would grow up to defeat the Philly-Steens and free his people once again. Wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone that he chose Manoah’s wife Raven as his sex partner and child begetter. As her name suggests Raven had dark inviting eyes and a beautiful flawless face surrounded by thick and luxurious onyx black hair. Without a hint of self consciousness she proudly wore low cut dresses giving more than a glimpse of her firm oversized breasts. These magnificent globes had eye magnets which drew every mans and most of the women’s eyes directly down to them. The large tantalizing breasts took to bouncing playfully and seductively all over town. It was rumored they could skip rope double dutch while drinking Dos Equis. They were real, and they were spectacular.
It took all the willpower this god had to keep from pre maturely spilling out his super-sperm over himself as he salaciously drooled over her erotic and exotic body. The long slit up her tight fitting dress revealed very sexy legs with perfectly formed calves ready for slaughter. Thighs smooth and svelte she had sensual legs that just wouldn’t quit. Her hips DID lie but everyone believed whatever they said. Manoah was the envy of every horny mammal within a hundred mile radius. The almighty spirit took Raven inside his lair and the two went at it all night long as Manoah moped in dejected silence. So seductive and skilled was she that the entire town could bear witness to Jehovah being heard screaming over and over, “Oh my fucking Raven!!” He had his rod and staff comforted in her loins thrice and left so much godsperm inside Ravens body remnants of the mighty swimming life-forces oozed out of every orifice they could find including a number of hair follicles. Some of the over zealous sperm cells even went airborne. There would be no doubt that Raven would be giving birth to a half human, half god child from this evening and they would name him Samsung.
Before leaving the satisfied Raven and the slightly pissed off Manoah the smiling Lord of Lumber instructed Raven to never consume alcohol again and if they wanted to be free they must promise to raise their son as a Nazirite. As a Nazirite he must follow a few simple rules. First, no alcohol, grapes, or vinegar, second never visit a grave or come in contact with a corpse, and lastly he was not allowed to cut his hair. In addition to these strange rules he had to follow a strict work out regimen and praise and obey the one and only true god. (Of which there were many to choose from).Manoah and Raven were to feed him a steady supply of protein drinks and steroids and were instructed to bring up the child with a regimen of intense exercise, combat training, and healthy eating habits. This handsome god/man would grow to be the strong and stealth warrior of the Israelites that was seduced and betrayed by a sexy Philly-Steen hussy. This then is where the legend known as Samsung of Galaxy and Da-Liar of Boldface begins.

A Weekend To Forget

Me and my droogs had just finished some moloko plus at the Milk Bar and had zero pretty polly in our wallets. “Oh my dear droogies methinks the hour has arrived for some ultra violence and some crasting to fill our pockets with kuppit. Lets go find Billy Boys gang and kick all four in the yarbles till the rich red krovvy runs from their rots. Then we’ll tolchock some vellochek and crast all his cutter so we can peet some more moloko.” All agreed and out out out we went into the night. Shortly we came across Billy Boy and his shaika of like gloopy moodges and the tolchoking began. So angry was your humble narrator that I pulled out my britvah and sliced old Billy boys yahzik and kicked his zoobies in. Sirens abounded and millicents in blue uniforms were everywhere. “Come along droogies, we don’t want to end up in Staja.”
Running away laughing all we were now having a real horrorshow time. Dim spoke up, “How abouts some of the old in and out with the devotchkas Alex?” Being a good leader I chose to agree and off we set to the suburbs. We came across a small cottage where resided a like older chelloveck and his beautiful zheena. We tricked him into allowing us entrance and I instructed Dim and the others to perform some ultr-violence on the chellovecks while I sodded the mans hot dama. With my panhandle in hand I did the old in and out whilst singing in the rain was sung by yours truly. I could hear the old chelloveck creeching in pain. Each of my droogs took their turns as I surveyed the cottage for cutter or goods to fence. Beethoven was playing on the record which made your truly smile, when suddenly I saw it! A Belgian ale name Defiant. I could like sense my droogies lubidubbing the pitsa as she creeched in a like poogly voice.
What a great weekend it was, fun times with friends, some sodding and groompy sex with a young sharp, and to top it off a bottle of delicious Defiant triple ale from Belgium. What a fantastic memorial day weekend. Well at least it was until your humble friend and narrator was arrested by the razz’s, put in prison and subjected to the Ludoviko Technique of aversion therapy which stripped me of my free will.

Have An Existential Weekend

Breaking News. An army of tree hugging, anti war pacifists have declared Peace on all nations of the world. In an attempt at annihilation of hate they gather in groups and form peaceful protests with an obsession of making the world a better and safer place to live in. These freaks should be considered unarmed and dangerous because they threaten the long standing philosophies of controlling the masses with money and power through the mistreatment of others. If you come across one or more of these peaceniks don’t call for help, but offer assistance. Have a safe and happy Memorial Day and if you want to honor those served never stop striving for Peace!

The Story Of Everything, Final Frontier

So This Is The Promised Land? Oy Vey, Its So Small

The basic plan was to head into the promised land and kick the shit out of everyone and everything along the way. Early battles with the various tribes of Amorites were just tune up struggles to get into shape for the big battles. After losing quite a few Israelite warriors Joshua decided strategy was their best strength. He would lead troops into the castle of his nemesis Jerry Coe. The strategy he employed was absolute brilliance. He took his army of weary warriors and instead of attacking he marched them around the walls of Jerry Coe’s city for seven days. The people inside watched this mock parade with amusement and bewilderment. In Jerry Coe’s office he sat with his military advisors. “What the fuck are the Juice doing? They have been walking around the wall of my city for days now. Just carrying on around in circles. Should we attack them?” The question was directed at his general, Shah Bashin-Dareheads, first cousin of Caligula. “Well I’ll tellya Jer, if it were up to me I would shoot them all. The only problem is ole Sol here says we have no legal precedent to go by. They haven’t broken any laws.” As they struggled to figure out what to do, ole Sol had an idea. “Hey, you know what guys? We could bust them for not having a parade permit.” Jubilation filled the room as they all schemed to go out an arrest them starting with that bothersome shit Joshua. The jubilation was premature because as they were filling out the proper paperwork, the walls of the city began to collapse with them smack dab in the center. Apparently the Juice were not only marching around but two spy juice had planted explosive devices at strategic locations. While the city was looking on in that bewilderment of theirs the juice spies had been sneaking around setting them up for the explosion. For good measure, Joshua burned down the entire city with everyone in it. Everyone will know who we are now, he boasted! “how so you like me now Jerry Coe?”
That was his brilliant strategy, the roast and boast. Once they tore the walls down it would be straight for Jerusalem. Here was their final frontier, their patch of promised land to keep forever. Years of wandering the deserts, crossing numerous rivers, engaging in hundreds of fatal battles, through gallons of blood sweat and tears the Juice had come to this. Jerusalem, the city of Pea‘s.. The promised land where they could set up their own little Utopia. It was here in this city that Joshua sent word to the Canaanites that this was the land promised them from Yehaw. Not long after the disdainful laughter of the Canaanite began Joshua’s tired yet inspired soldiers attacked and defeated the laughing fools of the city and claimed it for themselves. This then was where they would set up shop. A new city in the cradle of civilization that would forever be remembered and forever be the source of the most disputed piece of realty in history.
So that’s it, that’s my twisted tale of the story of everything. It was my intent to offend everyone possible and I attempted to do it both frequently and relentlessly. If your religion was not offended I apologize. I meant to leave no religion at all to be un-mocked and I tried to blanket many of them because I’m just to fucking lazy to research every friggen religion in the world. Anyway, hope you enjoyed my tale of The Story of Everything and feel free to pass it along from generation to generation. Who knows, two thousand years from now this may be found by aliens and considered Yehaw’s gospel truth. Peace.

Have A Cupcake, The Existential Treat

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The Only True Philosophical Question Is “Are You Gonna Eat That Cupcake?”

Existentialism is the philosophy of living your life with sincerity and passion. Life has meaning to an existentialist, its just not a predestined life or a life controlled by any religious boundaries. Basically existentialists are the rebels of creationism, deniers of nihilism, and singers of their own songs (some of us also dance but my guilty feet got no rhythm). A philosophy which embraces free choice but with a bit of moral responsibility and unlike anarchy there is an understanding of the cause and effect resulting in consequence. Being existential doesn’t absolve me of punishment when I screw up. But how can I bake existentially, and how are cupcakes the existential treat?
First the cupcakes. Are they really existential? It’s a question that would have stymied Socrates, perplexed Plato, and driven Kierkegaard Krazy. That claim may not be truly fair because cupcakes didn’t even exist until 1796 so Socrates and Plato are off the hook. But Soren may well have sampled a cupcake during his existing period. Quite possibly his Mom baked some in wonderful wonderful Copenhagen when he was jut a boy with a big brain
Like many of our treasured mysteries there is a bit of controversy over the name and history of our existential treat, the cupcake. While many believe it’s a reference to small cakes that were measured by the cup as opposed to scales, the more likely explanation is it was a cake baked in a small ramekins in the early 19th century. Most were baked by short elfish people of Denmark who lived in trees. The ovens were very small and all they could fit were a few coffee ramekins to bake with (don’t believe that I’m lying my existential ass off)
I theorize cupcakes are the most existential of treats because of its rebel nature and humble beginnings. Cupcakes understand their purpose in life is to bring joy and happiness to one who consumes it. It exists ready willing and able to serve when served. No need to cut these individual delicacies it into slices or break pieces off, it’s a self confident and self contained treat. The cupcake embraces its short life and if you look closely at a well engineered cupcake you can see its total essence has a much more profound understanding of self than all other treats. It stands loud and proud in the knowledge that it looks and tastes exactly as it chooses and it defies any control by religious orders. Never associated with the last supper or communion responsibilities, never on display in the shape of a rams horn of sitting Shiva, and always ready but not obligated to break the fast of Ramadan. The cupcake is however revered in many celebrations . It happily takes its cherished place of honor in Rio during carnival. But don’t pray for me Argentina, I’m a non secular treat and I am here for no other reason than to add joy to your life. My soul purpose is to enlighten your taste buds while coaxing a smile to inhabit your face.
.Filled with this information there is no doubt that Socrates, Plato, and Kierkegaard would have all agreed that each cupcake exists as individual and is committed to becoming someone’s personal choice. It sets itself apart from other desserts in the world of the existential. Try as it may the petit four, whilst appearing individually bite size in stature was baked as a much larger cake and cut into its shape. The cupcake begins, exists, and ends as exactly what it is to become, a lovely individual. That’s why cupcakes are the existential treat.
So that’s how cupcakes are existential but how does one bake existentially? Not as easy as it sounds because the production of cupcakes follow strict baking guidelines. I need to consider the laws of physics that allow the batter to rise and fill with air as the proteins go about setting up at the same time to trap that air inside insuring a fluffy texture. Once the laws of physics and nature are both understood, appreciated, and obeyed I can begin to alter basic recipe to give it individuality. That’s the job of an existential baker, to re arrange the recipe and introduce the cupcake to the processes necessary in completing it while allowing for its individuality at the same time. Each one is given its own bake spot on the pan and subjected to the proper temperatures to nurture it to become what it is, an edible existential beauty.
I also need to have a deep understanding of its roots. I celebrate the life of the wheat as it blows in the winds and soaks up sun’s energy until it gets harvested and milled into flour, the lives of the many chickens who sacrifice their eggs for our consumption on so many levels, and the cows that shared their liquid of life, mothers milk. The flavorings, the sugars, the leavening agents all have stories as well dating back even before the agricultural revolution. I never take their existence for granted, but I do refuse to follow militaristic styles of regimen in production. The times and amounts of baking in no two days are ever the same. Different intervals and different sized pans help to develop my cupcakes individuality and that’s how they take on my personality. I have always lived my life as if it were an improv. Or maybe a sit-com but I never give the things in my life too much structure. I opt to take things a they happen, accept them and deal with them. Then move the fuck on to the next path because life comes at us fast and furious even though we may find ourselves bored at times. That pretty much sums up my basic life philosophy, live an let live and share your magnificent essence with others to make them appreciate this wonderful world of ours. Play each card as it turns up and make the best from what you have. When it comes to baking that’s how I roll, like an Artisan Vienna loaf. JK, that’s not how I roll, its how I bake existentially. I don’t even make rolls, only cupcakes. ….PEACE

Tiers On Their Wedding Day


Keeping My Day Job
Which came first, the eggsitentialist or the baker? The deeper philosophical question is which pays the bills. Not much thought involved in that mystery, so I baked my ass off to insure that a very happy couple had a nicely presented existentially baked and arranged treat. The cupcake is by far the most existential of all sweet treats and this tower stands proud as a monument to the profound love the couple have for one another. Despite the topper looking more like a groom on the run….PEACE