Samsung And Da-Liar, conclusion..(best read while mind is alrerady dirty)

angry sam

A Pillar Of The Community?
Da-Liar was not proud of what she had done. Well, not proud of betraying Samsung, but she wished the camera phone had been invented because she thought his hair looked fab. A mullet for the ages, Spinal Tap meets Dog The bounty hunter. Samsung however did not share her admiration for the new doo. So unhappy with his mangy mallet that he removed every follicle on his head. Samsung had chosen to go all skin, his head shining like a giant…..well actually with his big oblong head shaved clean he kinda looked like a walking penis, but one proud motherhumping shit strutting walking penis with huge bulging and somewhat pissed muscles ready to engage in revenge. First he would kill the filthy bacon eating Philly-Steens then go back and take care of Da-Liar. He made his first strategic decision and turned himself in to King Davy who was overjoyed to have the bald headed joke back in chains and arranged for a party for all to see his conquest.
Posters all over town inviting Philly-Steens to a pagan revival and sacrificial extravaganza this Saturday. Come to the Behemoth Beheading Gala at the Gaza, Saturday evening at the Temple. Featured will be the disembowelment of Israelite slaves and the castration and sacrificial beheading of Samsung. The mighty Hebrew Hope becomes the Hebrew joke as he loses both his heads. Fun and game for all, bring the whole family. I tell ya, these Philly-Steens sure loved their huge ornate celebrations and this promised to be the smash of the century.
Samsung sat in his prison and planned out his moves. Even the other slaves were calling him names now, feeling as though he had severely disappointed them. Samsung had become the laughing stock of the entire Fertile Crescent. But you can’t keep a good man down and Samsung was up. Up for over six hours which is the magic amount of hard time before calling a doctor which he did.
The doctor arrived at his cell, keeping slaves healthy before killing them was one of their main obligations. “What is the problem here slave?” Samsung lifted his loincloth revealing an almost inhumanly large stiff erection and pointed to it, “It’s been like this for over six hours and it won’t go down. I can’t fight like this. Can you release the pressure doc?” Of course the doctor didn’t want to touch that so he ordered the guard to have Samsung brought to his office where he could have his nurse do the deed.
Samsung made no effort to conceal his towering totem and the very second the nurse saw it she sized up the situation in her head and smiled. “Put him in there” as she pointed to the exam room. The nurse informed the doctor she knew just what to o to release the pressure but she needs be alone with him. The doctor ha no objection, if word got out that he had anything to do with releasing the fluid of a raging hard on it would ruin his career. And then it would destroy his family practice once it was discovered it was an Israelites salami he emptied of its contents. So off into the exam room walked Samsung, followed by the nurse with a smile as big as the joystick she was anticipating. She spared no time and placed her hand on his pulsing penis, “Anyone who says size doesn’t matter never held this marvel in her hands.” She began to stimulate the bulging log but Samsung had other idea’s. “It works much better if you’ll let me do some exploring” as he unbuttoned her gown she slipped out effortlessly and instantly allowed him to take the lead.
The two lovers went at it over and over. Over the exam table, over the waiting chair, over the cabinets, over just about everything they could find in the room. Samsungs talents brought the dazed nurse to four, count them, four incredible orgasms until he finally allowed himself to explode 2 quarts of pent up love juice between her thighs. During the explosive love making session Samsung, having learned from Sa-Liar, convinced the nurse to slip him a key to unlock his chains which he stored up his…..well you know where he hid it. He promised her he was going to use it to escape and come back for another pressure relieving episode.
With his ego inflated and his erection deflated he was returned to his cell where he would wait until Saturday when his big moment would arrive. He was fed well and tended to like the fattened calf preparing for a Pagan sacrifice. The town was abuzz in anticipation of a bloody and brutal family night out. Everyone was looking forward to the fiesta except for Da-Liar. Ashamed and heartbroken at betraying her lover Da-Liar wished none of this shit had happened. She sat in her room and sulked and sobbed angry at herself for losing Samsung. The only time she smiled was when she thought back to their love sessions the time she called him “My Sam Schlang” and they would both chuckle before making love again. She would no longer feel him swelling inside her, no more tender touches on her flesh, no more tongue bathing her from toe to head. Da-Liar could take it no longer. All the money and presents and material things no longer meant anything to her. No more thrill from her Ferrari chariot, the Veuve Clicoquot was a no, going to the boutique was weak, the feeling from Louis Vuitton….gone, and from her Prada, nada! Da-Liar couldn’t take the pain anymore, so she drank a bottle of champagne, and went into the bathroom to get some sleeping pills so she could rest. “Hmmm. Maybe I better take 2 or 3 tonight?” After struggling with it she opted to take 5, a very high dose but not one she hadn’t taken before. But when Da-Liar went to sleep, she would not ever wake up again. For some reason, perhaps it was a combination of not eating,drinking the champagne and the pills, or perhaps the pills were stronger than usual, or maybe she took more than he thought. No matter, she’s dead now and will never be able to answer those questions.
If Samsung had known that Da-Liar was gone he may have been sad, or he may have felt vindicated we’ll never know. What we can be sure of however is that on Saturday he was full of determination. He removed the hidden key and cleaned it off thoroughly before unlocking the chains. The prison guards rounded up the evenings sacrificial slaves and paraded them around the Temple as the Philly-Steens jeered and called them names. “Die you worthless penny miser” or “Eat shit and live for a little while”, and “It’s just a party, nothing to lose your head over.” The crowd had a special place in their hateful hearts for when Samsung was walked by. “yo dickhead, I got ya ham sandwich right here”, or “Hey ya bald pecker-head, lose ya Bah Mitzvah?” and “Bring that monster schlong over hear and do me one more time’ (The Nurse). But all of it just bounced of Samsung, he knew that in a short time all the revelers would be crushed by the stones of the temple they worshipped. When they walked him past the pillars that held together the place of Philly-Steen worship Samsung threw off his chains, ran up to the pillars wrapped the unlocked chains around them and pulled them down in a feat of strength even Hercules couldn’t pull off.. The Temple collapsed killing all the Philly-Steens and crushed the entire city of Gaza. Samsung was now the hero of the Israelites who were free now and he was able to put them on the family plan with a new invention he had dreamed up in prison using two cups and a string. All that was left now was taking out his vengeance on Da-Liar.
The second Samsung learned that Da-Liar was dead the anger exited his heart. He couldn’t stay mad at his lover and even began to miss her. He paced through her bedroom remembering their intense love making nights and began to feel sad. He opened a bottle of bubbly and began talking to himself out loud. “Oh man, why did it have to be like this? Only two women I have ever loved and who could satisfy me and both gone. Da-Liar dead and God only knows where Semedar is.” Samsung thought he felt someone in the room when a familiar voice answered him. “I’m here Samsung. After you destroyed the Philly-Steens I was no longer banished an I’m back. Maybe we could start over where…….Wait! What the fuck did you do to your head Samsung?” Semedar walked over to the stunned Samsung and gently put her arms around him. He looked at Semedar and was very angry at first, when suddenly she slowly gyrated her hips into his and that six hour menace threatened to return. Like most men when teased in the right spot Samsung relented and began grinding back. “It’s a long story Semedar, it’ll grow back. Everything grows back.” Words were replaced with moans and groans and the two once again found comfort in each others arms. And legs. And mouths. And….use your imagination.
So things were back to abnormal, the Israelites were free, the promised land was given back (sort of), and Samsung and Semedar lived in coital bliss for the rest of their days. Promising to be honest and to never betray him again, Semedar changed her ways. Burt before making the promise she had one last deceptive gesture she had to attend, so she poured the bottle of opium pills she had replaced with Da-Liars sleeping pills down the toilet. No one would ever know. No one that is except her little sister, Cleopatra.

My Brush With Racism


It was the early 70’s and race relations were better than they had been in the 60’s yet still a bit strained. I was a hippie, which back then was code for stoner, and having grown up on Long Island I was a Jets fan. The area in which I lived was semi integrated at best with certain area’s known as “black” hangouts and others “white” hangouts. Emerson Boozer was a fullback for the New York Jets and had opened a bar in the next town over and Named it Em Boozers 32, which was his number. Having past it many time I was always curious if the man himself hung out at the pub like I don‘t know, maybe tosing the football around or something cool like that. One evening I decided to find out with the faint of possibly even seeing Broadway Joe Namath chilling there too.
The drinking age was 18 and so was I so I could legally go into a bar and get a cold beer which were my exact intentions on that moonless dark night. I pulled into the parking lot and could hear a boisterous crowd partying inside from all the way were I was. Friggen awesome man, my kind of place, lots of partying and music, slightly rowdy crowd, what could possibly go wrong? Of course it was what could bet be described as a little “seedy” and while I didn’t like stems and seeds, seedy was not a stranger to this hippie so off I ventured into Em Boozers 32 for an ice cold Budweiser.
As I opened the front door the decibel of revelry increased dramatically being driven by loud laughter, but as soon as I entered the bar became silent. Not a peaceful and serene happy calm silence, but a menacing pin dropping what the fuck kind of silence. Even the jukebox stared quietly in disbelief. I looked around and noticed that I was the only Caucasian in the entire pub. Instant paranoia shot up my spine and began dancing on my slightly weed numbed brain. What to do? Every single open eye was focused directly on me. That’s me in the mirror, that’s me in the spot -light, losing my composure.
I was shaking like tall skinny snowflake with vertigo but it was too late my legs had already made the decision to head to the bar and all I could do was follow. As I passed there were people sitting at tables, some dudes playing pool, and at the bar was an extremely large intimidating barkeep. With my optic nerves shivering wildly it was hard to focus clearly but it could’ve been Emerson himself, he was certainly big enough.
The silence morphed into whispering and not to sound narcissistic or anything but I was relatively certain the hushed conversations were all about me. But it was too late, my instincts had taken control which in retrospect was a good thing because if I just turned and ran I have no idea what may have occurred. So I walked up and with all the strength and determination I could muster up I walked directly to the imposing barkeep and in my most weak and pathetic voice stuttered , “B-B-Bud please” The barkeep glared at me, reached own under the bar and to my delight it was not a baseball bat or a shotgun but an ice cold bottle of Budweiser in his hand which he promptly placed in front of me asking, “You ant a glass with that….sir?” Noting a touch of sarcasm in his voice I defiantly mumbled in the same weak voice as before, “Um ,no thank you.”
I was beginning to regain my composure a bit and boldly I showed no fear or sign of uncomfortableness, looked directly at the imposing figure behind the bar and said “Cheers”. I lifted the bottle to my relatively steady lips and guzzled that beer like I was at a frat party with my fellow pledges urging me to swallow in a single gulp. I placed the now empty bottle on the bar, wiped my mouth with my sleeve and noticed the noise level had picked up from a whisper to a low murmur and now only about half of the open eyes were on me with many getting back to their own conversations. I turned toward the door and bravely and evenly walked slowly and methodically determined to make it look as though it had been my plan all along and I knew where I was. The second the door opened up I began to get a feeling of massive relief heading at warp speed to my car. As I turned the key I heard the noise level of the bar go back to what it was before except with an added amount of laughter which, perhaps egotistically, I’m guessing again was about yours truly.
I’m relatively certain they had much more of a laugh of it than I did and I imagined guys going home saying to their wives, “You shoulda seen the face on that white boy, he looked about ready to hit his pants. I never seen anyone drink a beer so damn fast. The boy sure could drink but what in the Hell was he thinking?” What the hell indeed, it just hadn’t occurred to me that I would feel unwelcome, and in the long run it wasn’t so much that I was unwelcome as it was unexpected. In the years since I have maintained my deep rooted belief in equality and stand by those convictions for everyone regaurle of looks or beliefs. In addition I spent more toime in those “black hangouts” and forged many great relationships based not on our differences but our commonalities (not the least of which was a love for good quality weed) But I have yet to meet anyone who claims to be at that bar on that dark moonless night I had my brush with racism and I’m sure anyone who was enjoying their evening at Em Boozers 32 that evening will never forget the time they were entertained for 45 seconds from shivering snowflake….PEACE

I’m On Top Of The World by The Woodworkers (A song parody)


Such a feelings coming over me
I feel vertigo in everything I see
Not a cloud in the sky, but some ashes in my eye
And I won’t be surprised if its your spleen

We burned just as soon as you were free
In a funeral pyre especially for me
And the reason you burn, is to fit you in this urn
It’s the nearest thing to heaven that you’ll find

I’m on the -top of the world looking
At your cremation and the only explanation I can find
Is this cheap urn that I found
Makes me feel like you’re around
I’ll put your ashes at the top of the world

Seems like in the wind I hear your name
I look at you I see you’re not the same
Your on the leaves of the tree’s and your blowing in the breeze
And that’s a pleasing sense of happiness for me

There is only one thing on my mind
When this day is through the urn I dropped I find
And tomorrow will be the end for you but not for me
All you had will be mine now that you’re free
I’m on the -top of the world looking
At your cremation and the only explanation I can find
Is this cheap urn that I found
Makes me feel like you’re around
I’ll put your ashes at the top of the world

The Man Behind The Curtain, Unraveling The Emerald City Mystery


I’ll See You On The Dark Side Of Oz

The wonderful wizard of Oz. If ever oh ever a wiz there was the Wizard of Oz is one because…If you can’t finish that in a capella then you need to check your pulse. Wizard Of Oz is not just a story or movie its an American institution. Nay, a global treasure. To many of us who grew up before the age of instant information and entertainment on demand viewing The Wizard of Oz was a ritual. Originally airing on Sunday evenings it was a movie so powerful it pre-empted such great shows as Lassie, Gunsmoke, and The Gale Storm Show. We had to wait to find out what happened to Timmy, if Hoss was able to save Little Joe, and what new mischief My Little Margie got into. Why? Because watching The Wizard Of Oz was a family night obligation where we all sat around the television set with buckets of popcorn and cuploads of soda. On Monday once we returned to grammar school our elementary minds engaged in deep discussions over the twisted tale and many a young boy could be seen doing his spot on imitation of the lollipop guild, or young lass showing off her Lullaby League ballerina skills.
The movie mesmerized and hypnotized us with some parts scaring the shit out of us, but helping each one of us to exercise our imaginations and dreams. As children we were intrigued and believed in the story in a somewhat literal sense. While it was a fantasy, it revolved around real lives. And to boot it left us with a beautiful message when it ended. We learned that its okay to dream but we need to face our fears head on if we want those reams to become real. We learned its best to fight as a team and rely on each other because each person has something to offer. We learned that evil is wrong and good will always win out in the end. We learned that “the grass always seems greener on the other side” but in the end “there’s no place like home.”
As a child I absorbed these and other not so clear messages from movies like a subliminal sponge. Absorbing all sorts of life lessons from movies, TV shows, books, fairy tales and children songs. But as I got older and more cynical I took on more of a culture of “nothing is ever really what it seems.” I began to read into and interpret things in search of truth. I wanted to know what was underneath so I interpreted underlying meanings in movies, stories, poems, and songs. A personal fascination for me was the underlying meaning in rock lyrics.
So before taking our journy into the more profound messages in Trhe Wizard Of Oz I want to explore some rock lyrics. Rock and roll is the beating rhythm of many a generation. I view the world through abstract eyes and as a writer I report what I see. But rock song lyrics more than anything get deconstructed by my jagged mind and then placed back in an order that might tell an entirely different story. Sometimes songs were written with a hidden meaning on purpose and that offered a challenge as in the case of Don McLean’s “American Pie.” As teens my friends and I spent hours digging in to the layers of lyrics in an attempt to extract the inner meaning of that tune. Even when I hear it played today I still think of all the symbolic references and allusions to various celebrities both famous an infamous. To rock events like The Beatles playing Shea or The Stones at Altamont, McLean had deftly hidden all sorts of innuendo and culturally iconic references and brilliantly he had masked the clues leaving it up to us to interpret. To me that was a stroke of genius, similar to the musings of the lyrical concepts of Bob Dylan, The Beatles and The Stones. Those young talents had intuitive understanding of life far beyond their years and successfully conveyed those ideas into words. Some lyrics are crystal clear, some seem to make no sense, and many are written so abstract its difficult to see through into the artists vision at all.
With many songwriting perhaps even the author doesn’t fully understand the complex structure of their own words. Maybe sub conscious or maybe totally unaware of what the brain is trying to express from them in such an abstract way they deny its very true underlying theme. I lay on you as an example the song “Space Oddity” written by the one and only David Bowie. Bowie himself claims it’s a song he wrote about space after seeing the movie “2001, A Space Odyssey” while he was stoned (I believe he called it out of his gourd) Both that movie and the moon landing were popular events at the time and he claims that was his inspiration. He even wrote a follow up or sequel to the tune called “Ashes To Ashes” in which his purported Major Tom reconnects with earth. I don’t buy it for a second. I look deeper into the embedded subliminal inspirations and I believe whether intentional or subliminal this song is about David’s very own struggle with his sexuality. Its pretty well known he went through what has been described as an androgynous stage and the song reeks of innuendo surrounding the freeing of ones sexual inhibitions. In a phrase it was David coming out of the closet and exploring his own sexual desires. Let me explore for, dare I call it, a deeper meaning.
Ground control to Major Tom, take your protein pills and put your helmet on. Okay, relatively obvious, semen and protein almost synonymous and a condom is the helmet to protect from disease. A common practice back at the time was to bolster the system with protein to increase a males sexual prowess and stamina. (Pre Viagra practice when ED was the name of a talking horse on TV) Ground control is his mind, and major Tom is, well lets just call him Major Woody. The papers want to know who’s shirt you wear or which team are you on. Are you with the hetero’s or the non hetero’s? Maybe he’s not sure himself! Now its time to leave the capsule if you dare. Here then is that closet I mentioned David leaving. As he steps through that door he is walking in a “most peculiar way“, two derogatory comments used at the time to describe a gay man. He walks funny, like a girl, and he is queer or peculiar. No wonder the stars look very different today! Planet earth is blue and there’s nothing he can do. Back at that time porn was described as “blue movies”, to him the world is obsessed with sex and there is not a thing he can do about these new feelings. Or is there? He’s past one hundred thousand miles (around the block with women) he’s feeling very still (no zip to his ship). But not to worry, his spaceship knows which way to go. His compass points to experimentations with the North Pole! Tell his wife he loves her very much, she knows(love is not just sexual). He is feeling sorry and a tad guilty for going off on a sexual excursion. She already knows because you can’t hide your real self forever and your partner will likely be the first to sense it. Now the circuits dead there’s something wrong. He has no sexual electricity any longer for his woman and he can’t understand why. So that’s my offbeat take on the tune. Or maybe its about an astronaut that was lost in space and cut off from Huston. Floating in a very peculiar way without gravity around. I merely offer an alternative view like the one I will give on the Wiz.
That’s what I do, I listen to words then try to make sense of what I hear in the more abstract fashion. I reconstruct words in search of the true meaning beneath the surface. I also enjoy using the same mental exercise in cinema and this interpretation is my reconstructive take on my all time favorite tale, The Wizard of Oz. The Wizard of Oz is not just a tale of young girl on an adventure but the story of finding your inner strength, learning that what truly matters is not how much gold and glitter you acquire but how much love you acquire. “A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.” The underlying messages in the tale are important and a dynamic learning tool for children but there lies underneath it all a message intended for adults as well. At least I believe there is so that’s why I am looking deep into the story of Oz to find out what meaning it can have for us as presumed adults. Join me down the twisted path of an existential quirky mind to explore the underbelly of a time honored traditional story. If nothing else, you will have an opportunity to exercise your eyes and hopefully your imagination, and perhaps achieve a smile or two as well.

Samsung And Da-liar, episode 4..Rated IA (Immature Adult) Not recommened for ignorant prudes


just a little off the top please
Da-Liar was at one time a true dominatrix with men she walked around on leashes, drinking vodka from bowls, and very often licking her boots. Samsung was different though, Samsung was the only man who had ever returned sexual pleasure to her without complete direction and much work. It was like he had a magic flute that played beautiful love tunes in her labia. His touch on her skin was so enticing her body fluids boiled over and stained the walls. Now however she was in a difficult position, in a pickle over his pickle. If she extracted the secret of his success he would be taken prisoner by King Davey and she would lose the most ardently skilled lover she had known. She had more orgasms from him in one night then she had previously gotten from anyone in fourscore. Although there was that one time when she was in a va-jay-jay jamboree with Trixie and Crystal, but that was one of her darker secrets. On the other hand, if she doesn’t break her stallion and turn him over she not only loses all the promised bounty but the non trustworthy king would surely take his anger out on her.
The constantly copulating couple had found a bed of bliss in Da-Liars bedroom and if the stained walls could talk they would blush as they described the explicit events which occurred within them. The walls woul be barely able to contain themselves. Samsung was not quite at the boot licking stage but he did feel the grip of the vulva wrench when she tightened her velvet glove on his one eyed monster and could be willing to give away trade secrets in the heat of heated moments. Reluctantly Da-Liar began using her never fail coital confession inducing tricks on the big guy. She spent a lot of time on dressing just right. Jet black strappy pumps with stiletto heels, an excruciatingly tight teddy that revealed every curve and muscle in her body, a heavy dose of eye make up and burning bright red lipstick. Samsungs gonads went ga-ga at the sight of her sexiness.
As if that wasn’t enough, in her hand was a bottle of very expensive champagne an two glasses. She walked up to Samsung gently allowing their groins to touch, peered up at him teasingly and asked him if he would like some champagne in bed. At the height of arousal his hardened giant redwood pointed the way in affirmation.
The moment they arrived at the love cushions she began to polish the purple helmet bringing Samsung to near vein popping ecstasy. “Slow down Da-Liar, I feel like I’m already about to explode.” Knowing she needed to stretch it out she let his muscle rest while she paid attention to other parts of his body. As soon as she had him at the breaking point again the bedroom talk began. “Oh my god Samsung, you are so big and strong, and wow what a lover. How is it you are so much stronger than any other man?” Samsung flipped her over and got ontop of her, “Oh I have been given a special steroid from God himself that gives me my strength.” Wham Bam thank you maam the jack hammering began and Da-Liar had difficulty staying on point. The harder he thrust the more she gave in to him and finally it was she who could take it no longer as she came to a screaming orgasm. Da-Liar collapsed in exhaustion both of their bodies throbbing, heaving, and pulsating. She knew she would have to continue her quest manually.
After regaining the ability to breath normally the two lovers finished the first bottle of champagne, then the next and one more after that. Sufficiently drunk Da-Liar began phase two of her sexual extraction. She skillfully reached down under the sheet and Samsung responded quickly. Not thirty seconds had passed and his soldier was once again at attention awaiting command. Da-Liar positioned herself so they could enjoy mutual exploration and as soon as she felt his pulse raise to the right point, and his breathing to increase to the right speed she made her move. Samsung laid in anticipation as Da-Liar used first her feet and next her hands bringing him once again to the breaking point. “Tell me Honey, someone told me you have another secret about your strength, that there is one way you can lose it. Is that true?” Her fingertips began working overtime and she placed her mouth close enough to his unit that he could feel her warm breath on his muscle sending goosebumps through his loins. Promise her anything but give her……ANYTHING!! Da-Liar kept the teasing to an all time Guinness record until Samsung couldn’t hold out any longer and as she finished him off he blurted out “Its my hair. My Mom said I can never cut my hair or I’ll lose my strengths!” Even though her lips were locked onto his throbbing phallus he still didn’t feel her lips curl up into a giant smile.
Unaware he had been infiltrated during infiltration Samsung returned the favor with an equally skilled hand and mouth combo until the couple once again collapsed wrapped together in a love embrace. When they had recuperated they finished off three more bottles of champagne, laughing, chatting, and what would one day be called drunk texting. They simultaneously either fell asleep or passed out from the excessive amount of alcohol and sex. Hours went by the walls hearing nothing but snoring now and Samsung slept so heavy he didn’t notice Da-Liar getting out of bed. It would be anther two hours before he woke up from his champagne and shag induced sleep.
When he did wake up he was feeling sick and hung-over. He reached to his nightstand in search of some aspirins and steroids but the steroids were missing. Frantically he jumped up and headed toward the bathroom not noticing the locks of curly hair strewn about. He made a bee line straight for the bathroom to look for the pills and the image in the mirror caught his eye. He stared at it curiously at first, then in confusion and mystification which descended rapidly into anger. It was at that point he realized the unfamiliar figure in the mirror he was looking at was his own image. “What the? Did she? What? That’s me? No! How could she? I can’t believe this……… she cut my hair into a mullet!! That bitch cut my beautiful golden locks into a God damn mullet! I’ll fucking kill her. Her and every fucking Philly-Steen I see. They’re dead! All of them! DEAD!!”
Never before had Samsung felt so much anger and rage. Betrayed twice by sexy beauties of the same family. That slutty Semedar and the God damn greedy Da-Liar. Samsung thought back to the lion he had slain and decided that was what he would be the fate of the entire Philly-Steen nation. But first he had to do something about the hideous haircut.

What Not To Wear….At My Funeral


No Shoes No Shirt No Problem., But Keep Your Suit For The War
Full Disclosure. I’m a tree hugging, peace love-a-dovin’, free lovin’ hippie freak. I was there at peace rally’s, sit ins, and assorted forms of demonstrations involving what they call “civil disobedience” We may have been a bit too disobedient but the authorities were far from civil. But that’s buried in the past and it’s a brave new world today. I am still a hopeful idealist and believe we have a chance, but I also believe its our species that is destroying the planet and totally fucking up nature an disrupting the survival strategies of other species. That said, old age is angrily and mercilessly creeping up and forcing me into considering issues younger people believe to be too far in the future.
Two things can happen as you reach those misnamed golden years. Nothing gold about them, its more like the weak porous bone years, but I remember when my father turned 80 he went the direction I see many go in. Pops found the religion that had mysteriously avoided him in the old days. He didn’t go to church too often, in fact if I saw him there 10 times as a kid that’s a lot. Of course he had no problem making sure his kids attended mass and sang and prayed but he spent that time in the firehouse across the street from the church. But at 80 he found religion and I’m guessing it was a way of hedging his bets. If they’re wrong and there is no heaven, no harm no foul. But on the other hand, if they’re right he wanted to make damn sure he prayed himself a ticket to the up escalator. He crammed and studied and before long was quoting scriptures previously foreign to him. But I’m not going that way. If I’m right I didn’t waste any time praying, and worshiping something that never even existed, along with Santa, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and my imaginary friend who caused all the mischief and mayhem I was blamed for. And if I’m wrong, and I head down to the caves of hell at least I’ll have some good company, like drug dealers, hookers, and other ambiguous sinners. I’ll just have to make do with what’s there.
The other thing us old farts begin to think about is the event before traveling out as billions of particles into the cosmos, or up or down that religious elevator to determine our eternal fate. Death. Not a happy subject, and we don’t really like talking about it, at least about ours, but it is a reality that inches a little closer everyday. Once my ride of life ends its over and I’ll get off and let others take their turn, but I do want to make sure I am honored in death in the appropriate way.
Of course I want a party with lots of booze and singing an dancing, but I do have one very serious request. Like I aid, I have lived most of my life as a peace loving hippie and as such I wouldn’t want anyone at my funeral wearing a uniform of brutality. I’m not talking about assault weapon carrying military fatigue wearing soldiers, I mean the silent soldiers of war, the soldiers of fortune. They come in an assortment of uniforms, but most are something like collared shirts and ties, a jacket with matching slacks, and polished shoes. They try to appear different but they all dance to the beat of the same doldrums in bored rooms. (not a typo, those board meeting could make an insomniac snore in a matter of minutes) The weapons they carry into battle are briefcases filled with documents and battle plans. They use money as their motive and they wave flags of corporate logo’s. They sneak silently into our lives and disrupt them under our noses and we may not even know they’re there until they foreclose on our home, or audit our taxes, or just remove our ability to feed, clothe, and raise our families by annihilating our savings. And they do it with a smile, often even a smirk. They may not all be out to destroy our financial institutions but suits have become a symbol of corporate greed in the war against humanity and I don’t want anyone like that at my funeral. So if you’re coming to my funeral keep in mind it’s a celebration of my life and put on a tee shirt, a pair of jeans, shorts if its hot enough, let your hair sown, sing and dance and drink and indulge in whatever makes you happy, but leave your suits at home, there are no battles to be waged at a celebration of life…. PEACE

Samsung and Da-Liar (episode 3) Parental Advisory, rated IA Immature Adult


Sexual Healing (Afternoon Delight)
Da-Liar was a manipulative and underhanded bitch to put it as nicely as possible. Her love of sex was outdone only by her love of money and power. Her specialty was spinning men’s heads (both!) rendering them senseless wrapped around her sensuous fingertips. Da-Liar enjoyed using her uncanny ability of teasing the male libido to heights previously unexplored. She employed near torturous techniques of bring them to the very brink of orgasmic explosion only to slow it down and tease some more. When the moment arrived when they could hold on longer they’d be willing to anything at all for her in exchange for sexual release. Da-Liar had men do things to various parts of her body they would have flatly refused of any other woman. Her skill level at sexual pleasing was legendary and any man or women foolish enough to get caught in her vaginal web hadn’t a prayer of escape and would most certainly hand over all their worldly goods and most of their unworldly. Trophies she had many, golden chariots, designer cloths, jewelry, gold coins, nearly anything she desired she could extract easily. Great Goddess Madonna she was living in a material world and she was the material Girl.
Da-Liar had her eye on Samsung from that very first meeting when her sister gave her ten dollars to go away. She pocketed the cash and spied on the two lovers who snuck off into the woods. Da-Liar stared at that beautiful hunk of an Israelite as he pumped away on top of her sister. When she caught a glimpse of his eye popping ginormous erection she even blushed. “My god almighty the things I could do with that maypole.” She wished it were her underneath the muscular sex machine and she touched herself ever so sensuously when he started doing his slo-motion push ups that had Semedar singing that loud lovers tune “Fuck Me Hard Samsung.” Da-Liar watched everything very intently taking special note of how mesmerized and vulnerable Samsung became when her sister filled her mouth and continued the tune in a harmonic humming chourus.
She also took notice of his long and luxurious blond locks. Maybe he was born with it, maybe it was Maybeline but either way his hair was fucking gorgeous. Da-Liar watched the bulging arms caress his sister and she knew one day her chance would come. And it had, even better than he expected. Not only had she planted the seeds of desire with her catty antics and feigning trustworthiness, but those antics had banned her sister slyly removing her from Samsung. On top of that she would soon be approached by King Davy’s team with even more motivation. The promise of flat screen TVs, top of the line chariots, jewelry and bags of gold to make her wealthy beyond her dreams would that would prove too hard to resist. It wasn’t long before the band of Philly-Steens approached her.
Opportunity was at hand (and foot, mouth, and every other anatomically correct body part). Semedar had been exiled in shame and the burly sex machine with his ripped muscles were lonely, hurt, and vulnerable. Semedar had shredded his gears and Da-Liar was the one who knew just what to do to crank them back up.
Da-Liar was approached by three henchmen of the infuriated King Davy Jones. Mickey, Mike, and Peter jumped the last train to Clarksville to meet with Da-Liar. The Philly-Steen Kingdom had strong tenets and they questioned whether or not she was a believer. “Oh I’m a believer all right, I believe in silver, gold, and diamonds. Exactly what is it you want from me?” Mickey spoke up, “There is much talk of this Samsung coming up with revolutionary concepts that will destroy our kingdom. He has already murdered many of our people and we need to stop him. There is a rumor that he has a secret weakness and we will pay handsomely for the information.” Da-Liar considered her options and believed she already knew his weakness but she decided the challenge would be exciting. “Oh I shall surely find your secret for you I’ll start investigating in the morning” Look out,….Here comes tomorrow.
Da-Liar made good on her promise when finding Samsung alone in the woods where they first met. She knew he went there when he needed to be alone and she would make sure to put a smile on both their faces. “Samsung, I hoped you would be here. I feel so horrible about what happened to you. Are you okay? Maybe I can help” She took his hands and peered tenderly into his sad eyes as he weakly replied, “I don’t think there is anything you can do Da-Liar. It just hurts me so much. How could Semedar do this to me?” Not skipping a beat Da-Liar reached down to his not yet bulging loincloth and went right to work on the horny hunk. In an instant she got his eyes to light up and the blood to rush to his heads by adjusting his pistons in just the right position. Da-Liar lowered her voice to her sexiest best as she glanced alluringly into his eyes, “Oh I am certain I can help you Samsung, if you just give me a chance.” With that she bent down and showed Samsung how much better she was at satisfying than her sister was. Samsung was speechless but made many unintelligible sounds. True to her calling Da-Liar successfully entranced the passion charged curly haired hunk by the curly hairs and captured his heart and soul luring him once again from his home to hers. I’m sure glad it wasn’t me who had to tell Mother Raven he was leaving the nest once again into the bed of the sultry Philly-Steen.

Searching For The Lost Ark


Lost? Are you kidding me, the bitches stole that Ark
Raiders of the lost ark, the ark of the covenant. A piece of religious artifact so important and so powerful I sit in awe wondering how the fuck do you even lose something so precious? Did someone put it down somewhere and forget where they left it? Perhaps it was placed in someone else’s chariot by mistake? Did someone actually grab the wrong ark, one that looked similar. What if we look in the cusions of a very large couch? Or was that shit stolen? Its not the lost ark of the covenant it’s the stolen ark, and its nowhere to be seen because lets face it….Where the hell do you fence something like the ten commandments etched in stone and Torah scrolls? That’s one big ass haul but who can you sell it to?
So I’ve been mistaken for many years because as it turns out the lost ark isn’t Noah’s animal filled floating zoo but some kind of a box filled with religious stuff. My guess is that maybe it was an early Christian suggestion box or something. I expect it’d be filled with papers asking for shit like cushioned pews, refreshments in the confessionals, maybe some cool pictures in the bible, hymns with a better rock beat, and red vodka to replace the cheap wine at communion. That’s the sort of suggestions I’d make anyway. But back to this “lost” artifact. The story goes that the ark is a like a treasure chest filled with the actual stone tablets which the 10 commandments were etched in. It also contains Aarons rod, which it turns out is not Moses brothers porno flick but an actual walking rod owned by his brother said to have miraculous powers, a jar of Manna (an edible food kinda like an Israelite Slim Jim), and the first Torah scroll. Aside from the Slim Jim things these sound pretty important. You’d think exceptional care would be taken with this chest.
Of course that’s not the case, the Ark of the Covenant was either lost or stolen but the prudent thing to do is retrace its steps. The Israelites carried the ark around as they “Wandered about” for some forty odd years trying to locate the Promised Land. No GPS back then but still, lost for forty years? Maybe they should’ve stopped and asked for directions but guess who was in charge of driving? A man of course! When they did finally get it to Jericho they paraded the Ark around the city for seven days like they were rubbing it in the faces of the Jerichonians. However, when Benjamin defeated the Israelites he took the Ark from them. Here’s when things get a little dodgy. The Ark apparently exchanged hands between the Philistines and the Israelites a few times both claiming ownership at one time or another. And as if that shit wasn’t complicated enough some knock off Arks began showing up which looked remarkably similar to the original and were sold on the Lower Eat Side of the Fertile Crescent.
The last known authentic sighting of the Ark was in Solomon’s Temple atop ole Mount Zion. But Nebuchadnezzar came to town and wise old Solly got his ass kicked by the Babylonians who took over ownership. That’s where we completely lose track of it for ages.
Now of course something so intriguing would lead to much speculation. Like the modern UFO sighting craze the ark even has its own Area 51 and assorted plausible locations boasting of its existence. It may be buried in a cave at Mount Nebo as the Jordanians claim, or hidden away in Ethiopia being guarded by ganga crazed Rastafarians, or it could be in the Dubhe mountains in Zimbabwe where the locals call the chest “The Voice Of God.”
Even Europe gets into the act claiming it was taken and protected by The Knights Templar and resides now at an undisclosed location in the south of France, or in Rome at the basilica of St. John. Maybe the freemasons or the Illuminati have it stashed away inside The Dan Brown library or some pyramid with a giant all seeing eye in it. Even Britain, Scotland and Ireland lay claims of ark sightings answering to the ornate chests description stashed away in the mountains of the UK. But we know where it really is, in a Hollywood lot along with hundreds of other arks.
Videotape evidence is indisputable and they had no security cameras back in the ancient times. In fact they had no cameras at all and had to rely on sketch artists who were mediocre at best. I have seen with my own eyes footage of Indy Jones finding the original hiding place in Cairo, surrounded by snakes. Clearly the most plausible explanation is this. Nebuchadnezzar kicked ass and took names, and in the confusion the ark of the covenant was taken back to Babylon. It seems Nebby had his ass kicked a few years earlier in Egypt, where he lost a lot of Babylon’s wealth and the respect of most of his followers. In an effort to regain his peoples admiration he destroyed the temple of Solomon then forged a deal with Pharaoh Hophra who took possession of the ark in exchange for all the shit he stole when he kicked Nebby‘s butt a few years back. The Pharaoh hid the ark in a sort of tomb overrun with mean poisonous snakes (yea, I hate them too) and a strange set of rituals combined with perfect timing of the sun as a code to reveal its resting place.
Fast forward to 1936 when Indiana Jones begins a quest to find the ark before the Nazi’s get their hands on it. Suffice to say when the Ark is finally opened its revealed that the stone tablets and the scroll have turned to sand (its been a long time and even the Slim Jims didn’t make it) What remnants were leftover were cleverly edited to became some great footage of really cool special effects. Long story short there was nothing left inside that miraculous chest but the sand but at least Adolf doesn’t have it and we think we know where it is. In the final scene of the Raiders of The Lost Ark the ark is placed in a warehouse, or more accurately a Hollywood studio lot along with crates and crates of knock offs. So that’s where The Ark Of The Covenant resides today thanks to the efforts of Steven Spielberg and Paramount studios. In the end it was never really lost , just misplaced for a few thousand years…..PEACE


Searching For Uncle Goatleg


A Goat Bt Any Other Name
My first brush with the law, and my Dad has to come pick me up . Funny thing is my old man looks more like a criminal than I do. I’m being raised by a hippie tree hugging father and a step Mom who’s not quite so liberal. Dad used to ride Harleys, smoke pot, and was as he puts it, “a bit of a rouge” Tonight my rebel Dad comes to pick me up from the cop station in a beat up VW. Plus I have a feeling he was no stranger to cop stations back in his day.
Once we were out of the precinct parking lot he asked me in his calm voice what happened. I explained it all, how we were smoking a joint before the dance at the High school and the cops came running over. Not finding anything they searched us all and I was holding rolling papers so they took me to the precinct for possessing drug paraphernalia on school property. Straight away he gave me the like it or not its still illegal lecture, and the not ever on or near school property thing. We drove in silence after the lecture for two minutes until he said, “Paraphernalia? Rolling papers? Are they fucking kidding? “ The two of us laughed and my old man ran off some of his cop jokes, like someone stole the toilet from the cop station and they have nothing to go on, or he points to the back seat and says he picked up a dozen donuts in case I was in serious trouble. He always admitted he felt pot should be legal like alcohol even though he doesn’t smoke it anymore. That is he says he doesn’t smoke but I have my suspicions, every once in a while I feel like my stash is light a few bowls. Either way my old man wasn’t a big fan of cops busting kids for having fun.
When we got a block away from home and he said, “I’m gonna have to act all mad at home cuz I gotta at least pretend to be a responsible adult and Jenny will be expecting me to ground you. I’ll need to issue some form of punishment your step Mom will think that’s important but I mean fucking A, rolling papers is a fucking crime now? Look I get it Ian, it seems unfair. In fact is unfair, but that’s how the games of the establishment are played little cool man, you don’t try to beat the law, you wrangle around it. You gotta fool them at their own game. Give them enough of what they want and let them think they have the upper hand. If you fight them they just use stronger punishment, that’s their warped mentality, to punish you harshly until you break. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I am gonna tell Jenny that you just made a small mistake because you were unaware of the consequences of smoking marijuana. You haven’t committed any bad crime and no one got hurt and education will work better than punishment. So you will write me a four page report, two pages on the physiological consequences, and two pages on the consequences marijuana can have on society. That way you will learn the err of your ways!” That man was a fucking genius!
We drove home and I went straight to my room. Dad explained to Jenny what was up and downplayed the incident. She apparently agreed that the report would be the best punishment and so it was set. He used that report when he and I had to go in front of the town board and they were so impressed they dropped the charge and expunged my record completely. Man I really adored that man. He could spin a story like nobody’s business. So I knew that night when he came into my room to talk about the whole situation it was a perfect time to distract him by asking him about his youth. He loves talking about his younger days in the “turbulent sixties.“ One character in particular I had always wanted to know more about was his best friend. I only met him a few times when I was young but Pops tells me he came over all the time when I was a baby. I didn’t remember that and I don’t even know his real name. My big sister and I just called him “Uncle Goatleg”. That alone had to be a good story.
“Hey Pops, I know this was a stupid thing I did. You’ve always been so honest with me and I know you smoked back in your day, but whenever I think about what it must have been like for you growing up the one name that keeps coming to my mind is Uncle Goatleg. All I remember about him is this really nice guy with long hair and a very long beard. I remember you were always happy when he was around and I figure you call him Goatleg because of his limp. I assume it was caused by a motorcycle accident or something cause I vaguely remember you and him having motorcycles and giving me and Molly rides wearing football helmets. What was his real name and what was he like?” I could see a huge smile on my dads face as he reminisced. Uncle Goatleg was as tall as my dad, and just as muscular. Maybe even a little more. He had very thick curly reddish brown hair that danced over his shoulders. My dad always had a short beard, but Goatlegs chinstrap was quite long. The full rust colored hair sprouted from his chin and went clear down to the middle of his chest. The hair on his face was so thick I can’t say for sure if he even had lips. Santa would have been jealous at how beautiful that beard was. Like I said, he has a bit of a limp, and he walked with the assistance of the coolest walking stick I’d ever seen. A dark red hardwood cane. Around the cane was carved the most magnificent black and yellow cobra snake with the head right at the handle so he could hold his hand inside the snakes mouth. I recall the detail of the snake as almost mesmerizing, the tiny scales, the flared head and sharp teeth were kind of menacing and I’m sure I stared at it every time he came over. Without really ever knowing Uncle Goatleg I admired him greatly and wished he had come around more often.
“Oh wow, uncle Goatleg. I’m surprised you remember him. His biker name was Redbeard but his real name was Kevin. He injured his leg in a motorcycle accident. Yeah, he and I rode together a few years before I had to sell my bike. Kev had a gorgeous tricked out Harley shovelhead. What a beautiful bike. Me and Kevin go all the way back to kindergarten where we got into a fistfight over a toy truck. It was the first fight for both of us and we got sent to the principals office. While waiting, we glared each other down still pissed, and then Kevin says “I hear the principal looks like a grasshopper. A fat bald grasshopper.” I broke out laughing and we both making cricket noises and acted the fools. Became best friends instantly an learned we only lived three blocks away. Stayed best friends until he left. We did everything together rode bicycles, went to the beach, dances, girls, rock concerts, everything. We were together all the time just about all the way through school. We even learned to drive in the same car, your Uncle Jack’s Barracuda. When the time came we went to buy our first motorcycles at the same place.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear more, the story of their friendship or the story of why Uncle Goatleg left but I opted for the latter. “When did he leave and where did he go? Why did he go? Did he ride away on his bike? Do you know where he is now?” Pops chuckled, “Slow down son, it’s a bit of a story. Let me get us something to drink.” As he got up he smiled and his chuckling voice trailed off, “Always with a million questions Ian.”
When he came back a few minutes later he had a large mug of beer for himself and a soda for me. “Hey, can I have a beer?” I got the you know better than that look as he smiled. “Not this time Ian, but someday soon we’ll share a few. Right now I’m gonna tell you about your Uncle Goatleg. Actually you gave him that name.” I perked up instantly. “Me?? How did I do that?” Dad took a long swig of his beer, “One time he came over and you were like two and a half years old. You were full of questions even back then. You asked him over and over what happened to his leg, why does he limp, was it from the motorcycle, non stop questions. Kevin laughed and rolled up his pant leg to show you his disfigured and scarred leg. You said ’Ew gross, it looks like a goats foot.’ We laughed our asses off and then he roared, ‘Yea Ian, Uncle Goatleg, that’s my name. I’m your Uncle Goatleg.’ Every time he came over we called him Uncle Goatleg. You and your sister are the only two people in the world he’s let call him that. He got a real kick out of that. Anyway, as I was saying, Kevin and I rode bikes together for a while but he was much more serious about biking and eventually took to hanging out at bars that outlaw bikers went to. The Heathens Motorcycle Club which is the second biggest MC group on the east coast. The main rivals of The hells Angels. Eventually Kevin was asked to become a member and he jumped at the chance. I went with him a few times to the Heathens bar and it was very scary. They got into fights over things like ’you breathed on me‘, or ‘you looked at my beer.’ Dangerous crowd they were very violent. Being an outsider I was a target so I told him I couldn’t come around anymore. He understood but that was the life he wanted and he lived it. We saw less and less of each other, Goatleg always with his MC gang. I had to sell my bike and wasn’t interested in hanging out with The Heathens. I’m a lover not a fighter. I would read stories in the papers of major brawls between them and rival clubs and he would stop by from time to time and give me the inside scoop. Then one night in 86 or so, he stops by the restaurant I was working at and tells me he has a huge problem and needs help. He has to get out of town and disappear forever. I was stunned and we went outside to talk. He lifted up his leather jacket and shirt to show me his right side. It was one giant black, blue, and red bruise and I was like holy shit Kev, what the Hell; happened? Well in typical Kevin style, he made the big mistake of banging one of the other bikers mama’s. But not just any bikers babe, he nailed the mama of the president of his chapter. He was beaten by near everyone in the club with fists and pool sticks and thrown out of the bar. Everyone took shots at him except the president. Seems he wants Kevin either dead or really suffering and was gonna take care of business himself. So Kev was a marked man. After work I went to an ATM, took out as much cash as I could and made him promise to let me know where he is. He said ‘can’t do that bro, it will put you in danger. And your kids. Can’t do that to Ian and Molly.’ These fuckers mean business and they’ll fuck over anyone what knows me. Just gotta split man, that’s all.’ They won’t rest until they kill him so he left and went underground. I moved shortly after that and neither of us has any idea where the other ended up. I think about him all the time.”
I gotta tell ya, I was pretty blown away. As I absorbed the story I had one last question, “so you have no idea where he went? Not even a clue? Or a name he might use? You know we can find out a lot of shit on the internet, maybe we could do a search?” (So maybe it was more than one question, that’s my nature) Pops smiled at me, “Sometimes Ian, things are left behind because they are supposed to stay in the past. As much as I miss Kevin I am not sure finding him would be the best thing for him.” I was taken aback. “Him? What about you Dad? Don’t you think you deserve at least a thanks? Or a hello? A postcard, or I don’t know,….something!?” I hated when he seemed like King fucking Solomon but he gave me his Zen smile and in his voice of reason explained. “Any contact could put us all in danger Ian. My brother needed my help and needed it without question or condition. Maybe its forgotten and maybe not, but when you love someone there are times when you must sacrifice your own personal feelings for the good of the one you love. And I love your Uncle Goatleg, we’re blood brothers forever, we pinky swore in blood and everything. Forever connected even if its in memory only. I know how much he appreciated what I did for him and he would have done the same for me in a heartbeat. The truth is I have heard bits and pieces of Kevin’s life but over the years I’ve learned that sometimes things from the past should just stay there. Life isn’t always easy son.” That wasn’t good enough for me, “What exactly have you heard about Uncle Goatleg?” Dad shook his head in mock frustration, “ I hear tell he headed down to Florida and is living a happy quiet life somewhere near a town called Palm Coast. I hope he is and I hope he‘s happy and we should just leave it at that.”
The wheels began spinning in my brain. My best friend Eugene has an aunt who lives in Flagler Beach, which as it turns out is only about ten miles from Palm Coast. I was graduating high school in June, and me and Huge were going on a short one month vacation somewhere. We weren’t sure where we wanted to go but we knew we needed to get away. Now I knew exactly where we would spend our vacation. Flagler Beach and Palm Coast here we come!

Samsung And Da-Liar pt2..(A Sick Bastards Bible Selection)


A Lion In The Streets But A Wildcat In The Sheets

As a young adult Samsung was the strongest, smartest, and to hear the fair maidens tell it the most well hung man in town. He was being raised by Raven who harbored vengeance in her heart and did her best to fill Samsungs up with anger as well. It wasn’t enough that the ugly and smelly Philly-Steens imprisoned them but one of the church leaders, Mike Duggle-Ass often had Raven brought to his quarters against her will where he performed a variety of sex acts with her. He made her exchange oral pleasures over and over for hours at a time. Her only solace is in knowing she had given him throat cancer.
So it was much more than mere anger it quite literally went much deeper than that. Raven had Samsung trained with a Hattori Hanzo sword, sent him to Crouching Tiger Shulman’s Hidden Dragon Ninja Academy, and study Patton’s Home Correspondence Battle Training Course in his spare time. Raven had fashioned a skilled and very adept lean mean killing machine. His only weakness was being a man easily manipulated by his third leg.
Samsung was also very intelligent and graduated magma cum loudly of Canaanite U, majoring in telecommunications. (which at that time was the donkey express) He knew he would one day find a better solution to information gathering but first and foremost he must set out to avenge his people. He set out on his ass (The donkey) to find a way to free the Israelites, who have a predestined love of all things free. While traveling he met a Philly-Steen hottie named Semedar walking with her younger sister Da-Liar. After a fair amount of flirting with both ladies he got off his ass and gave Semedar his most charming eye flirt and said, “I think I’ll invent a new alphabet so I can put U and I together.” Obviously just as smitten the sultry Semedar smiled seductively, gently traced her finger down his chest barely brushing her hand across his groin and answered, “Why don’t you just put the U in Me instead.” She parted her thick lips ever so suggestively and allowed her pink moist tongue to reveal her intention.
Sparks flew. No literally, I mean real sparks were coming from Samsungs cellular region as it rose to the occasion instantly. His LAN was on fire and Semedar was the server of choice. His sexual wiring was shorting out sending messages everywhere. The sultry and very horny Semedar gave her sister Da-Liar ten bucks and sent her off to town so the two hopeful lovers could allow the sparks to bring each other to a satisfying conclusion.
The two lovers found a perfect spot in the forest and went at it with all the energy his mother and biological father had on that fateful night on which he was conceived. The huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and each brought new and exciting techniques to the sensual explosion. When they were finished the ridiculously satisfied Samsung couldn’t stop singing her praises and asked her right there on the G spot if she would marry him. Nary a second of hesitation wasted the beautiful Semedar still feeling the warm blood flow everywhere accepted his vow of love and sealed it with a slurp. The two became engaged and made love once more to celebrate. Now the hard part, time to tell both families about the unity of an Israelite and a Philly-Steen.
Raven and Manoah were extremely unhappy with the news and Raven warned Samsung that consorting with the Philly-Steens would bring him only heartache an displeasure. Pleasure was the reason Samsung had become betrothed to begin with so he cleverly convinced her it was part of the higher powers plan for him to marry the sexy Philly-Steen. He announced that his intentions were as stiff as his……never mind, his intention was solid. Being a Nazirite he felt compelled to ask Semedar’s father for her hand in marriage and he set off to do just that.
He jumped on his ass (donkey again) and headed out as fast as the stubborn burro would bounce. Two hours and two days later the ass lazily limped to a clearing just outside of Boldface, the town of his sultry fiancé. There he would practice what he would say when he met Semedars father Bob Barian. Bob Barian was actually Semedars step father who was a warped, frustrated old man. He lost the sight of his right eye during a battle with the Huns when Attila himself reached into Bob Barians eye socket, yanked out his eyeball threw it at Bobs feet saying “You see where you stand?“ before laughing and squishing it into the ground. Not a single one of his slaves lifted a hand to help him and many even snickered and made Cyclops jokes. He became a more ruthless and vindictive slave-owner after that and he was all too aware that a stinking Israelite was on the way to ask for his daughters hand thanks to a heads up from his daughter Da-Liar. Bob Barian was even less enthusiastic about the union than Raven was. In an attempt to avoid having the entire race of Philly-Steens making him the laughing stock of the Fertile Crescent for being a slaves father in law he bought a lion from the Coliseum of Rome to slay the hapless Hebrew. He got a good rate on an aging lion that had killed over 50 Christians which had acquired quite a reputation. It was said the old but fierce feline had not a sliver of fear or humility. In fact the carnivorous cat had swallowed his pride, each and every member. He turned the bloodthirsty lion loose in the path where Samsung would surely be and assumed that would be the last he would hear of the Israelite again..
Samsung rested in the clearing because his ass was sore.(the donkey again) It was tired from all the walking and in pain so they stopped to give his asses a rest. His thoughts wandered to the sexually charged encounter he and Semedar had and the ones they would have in the future and the only thing on his mind now was copulation. His hand involuntarily began a soothing feel good massage as he day dreamed about his carnal desires when a strange noise broke his concentration. First he heard the gentle rustling of leaves but it was followed quickly by a loud ferocious roar. He remove his hand from his loincloth in alarm. A lion attack? Holy shit! His first inclination was to get his ass outta there (this time his!) There wasn’t enough time because old as the lion was it still had a lot of zip in its hip and came charging at Samsung with killing in it’s eyes and heart. Samsung having to react quickly grabbed his ass by its jawbone (you figure it out) and ripped it clean off its head. He then took that old jawbone and cracked it across the head of the charging cat killing it in one swift chop. The adrenalin rush from the fear compounded from his daily steroid shot was still raging and he tore the lion apart with his bare hands.
I wish you could have seen the face of Bob Barian go from smirking smile to frightened shock as he witnessed Samsung toss the gruesome shredded carcass at his feet. Eyes still wild and bugging out of his head Samsung looked Bobby Boy directly in his good eye and said, “I came here to ask you for your daughters hand in marriage but now with this lion carcass as a show of my worthiness I will insist we marry and our love will bond!” Shaken but not stirred the mean mister Barian agreed immediately. He would have agreed to just about anything at that point with Samsung staring at his good eye with wild rage and lions blood still dripping from his hands. There was little he could do the marriage was set. De-Liar had also witnessed the incident with a tingling in her slightly damp groin paying particular notice of how Sammy bulged as well. Instinctively she knew what his weakest link was, or at least she thought she did. To herself she mumbled, “One day Sammy boy, I will use that divine rod to coax you away from my bitch sister and you‘ll moisten only my lips. (your choice)
The wedding was epic. Israelites in formal chains on the grooms side, all the ostentatious Philly-Steens on the brides side. Senedar had 30 groomsmen who took care of her wardrobe and make up. Samsung decided to tease them thinking them to be stupid gay Philly-Steens. “If any among you can figure out my riddle, I shall give you a fine Italian suit in the color of your choice.” The groomsmen were all fashionista’s so of course were intrigued. Samsung had no intention of allowing them to figure out his riddle.” If two Roman chariots collided on the border of England and Persia in which country would survivors be buried?” The slow witted groomsmen scratched their heads and struggled for hours in moral and ethic debates and the legal ramifications of responsibility not a single one realizing the easy answer. Da-Liar knew the answer and told the groomsmen that survivors don’t get buried on the condition they tell him Semedar gave them the solution. Each one went to Samsung and answered his riddle demanding a tailored suit from Italy. Infuriated Samsung promised he would fulfill his obligation in a week. He asked them how they figured it out and as promised they told him Semedar had given them the answer. Samsung was crushed by the betrayal.
For the first time the sex between Samsung and Senedar was unsatisfying because only one of Sams heads was into it. He was clearly pre occupied but lied that he was only deciding where to get the 30 suits. His pain turned to anger over her revealing the answer to the groomsmen putting him in such a shitty position. Semedar was sexually frustrated and unsatisfied too so as soon as Samsung left to get the suits she snuck into the bedroom of her secret lovers. Yes that’s right, its not a typo this time, she had multiple lovers. She slept with four of her Philly-Steen neighbors getting attention from all four simultaneously. Da-Liar promised she would warn Semedar if her new husband came home so the fivesome went at it with unequalled enthusiasm. Reverse cowgirl, motor boating, jack hammering, the ninja vacuum, the bus ride, they even Sutra’d the Kama out of each other one chapter at a time. The moans and groans could be heard throughout the entire hall.

Totally unaware of his back stabbing brides infidelity Samsung set out to keep his promise. He decided to kill two birds with one stone so he went into town and found 30 well dressed Philly-Steens who he easily slaughtered then took their clothing. He went back to Semedars home three days earlier than expected with the dead men’s suits and dropped them off. He explained to he couldn’t get a plaid suit because dead men don’t wear plaid and none of the contributors wore pink suits. It was as if he were bragging about something. He dropped off all the suits, many of which still had blood stains on them. Then as he walked down the hall he saw Da-Liar who stopped him and whispered, “I love my sister but I can’t bear to see this happen to you. I’m sorry Samsung but she’s in the room at the end of the hall. That’s when he heard the familiar sounding moans. “Semedar?” Samsung broke into the bedroom finding his bride in what could only be described as the final scene from the popular porno flick “Romancing The Bone.” Four Philly-Steen men simultaneously pleasuring his wife in one place or another.(The ear thing was kinda creepy) He grabbed his sword and cut off all eight of the four men’s heads turning to Semedar, “I think I’ll be going back home now. I’ve murdered enough stinking Philly-Steens for one day.” He left her stunned in a room full of bloody body parts while Da-Liar secretly watched it all unfold with a smile.
Samsung went home to his Mom and Dad crying. Raven wanted badly to say “I told you so”, but opted to wait for another time. She made him a pot of chicken soup and enhanced it with more steroids than usual because “He looks like he hasn’t ha a roid in weeks” as she would put it. Things were not so hunky dory in Philly-Steen either. A warrant for Samsung was put out with a reward if taken alive. King Davey wanted to make a hard work slave of the murderous Israelite would be savior. He would employ any means necessary including using Da-Liar. He wanted Samsungs battery completely drained at any cost. Samsung had a price on his head.