Category: Uncategorized

No YOU Get Out And Vote!!

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vote

Tuesday, the national day of elections, the day all the bullies on Facebook an Twitter or any other medium for their pulpit scream at me to get out and rock the vote. “You’re vote counts” “If you don’t vote then you can’t complain” Oh yea, they dip it in honey or drench it in sugar so its cloyingly sweet and well intentioned but it bullying just the same. Get off my back!

Its my right to vote. Its also my right not to vote and it my right to complain whether I voted or not. So the voters make up the rules? Bullshit, you think your vote is almighty and uber important? Your vote is a teeny weeny blip on the tally. When the last time someone one by one vote uncontested? Some states flip coins, some draw cards, some have run offs, but its never cut and dried in the event of a tie. But maybe you’re right, maybe my vote is the one vote that will decide the fate of an entire state. Obama was declared winner before all the voting was even done. Bet the west coast slackers didn’t feel like their vote counted, maybe they should have gotten off their assess and gone earlier!

So quit your goddamn bullying and get off your high horse and leave me alone, I am reasonably intelligent (seemingly more so with autocorrect) and I have a pretty good idea how the vote works. I know its today and I know where and how an if I choose to vote that’s my option, I won’t be bullied into thinking that if I don’t I have somehow messed up the whole system and fell short of my duty.

So I may vote, I may not. Either way if I am unhappy with the performance I will complain. I have endured weeks of irritating political commercials, robocalls that insult me by assuming I’m such an idiot that I haven’t got the wear with all to make up my own mind, and (ahem) friends on face book who apparently excelled in political science and economics in school although I don’t remember that back in the day and I seem to remember most of them at protests with me. Maybe that was before they got seduced by the almighty dollar, the corporate concept of Inc God We Trust, and having a little money has clouded their youthful idealistic dreams of living in a world that’s fair and just. Maybe we should go back to those idealistic values. Lets take a vote! ……PEACE

The Meh! ta-physical Life

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borework

I don’t have a death wish, I’m not looking to die or anything but it just seems that life has hit the ultimate meh point. Get up in the morning in a daily battle with a snooze alarm, drag myself into the shower, then realize I am a slave to caffeine. Meh!

Off to work like all the other drones in a metal box on wheels that become magnetized once on the highway attracting mostly shitty drivers who either give me the finger, or are on the recipient end of my finger. Anger and frustration builds as the daily commute sucks out what little gleam the morning shower temporarily imparted. Meh!

Get to work and speak in robotic tones and ask everyone else how their day was. I notice we are all dressed pretty much the same, as if we were dressed by the copy machine in what they call business attire, and my highly prized quality of uniqueness swirls down the drain of corporate team concept. Meh!

Lunch is often the highlight, or it was before I began to get concerned about the extra fifty pounds that was hiding in bleachers during graduation just waiting for me to get into the real world where people eat to relieve tress. Today another quinoa wheatberry chicken and raisin salad with raspberry vinaigrette. Heh!
Fan-friggen-tastic, workday over time to punch out and get back in the metal box to find my way back to where I started, with a host of new finger givers and receivers, only this time its with open eyes. Meh!

Home again, back to the comfort zone. I get to remove these movement restrictive clothes and put on some sweats and a tee, have some dinner an find my spot on the couch. Maybe a glass of red tonight, it was a pretty stressful Monday. Meh!

So you see, life has become meh! ta-physical, but then I guess metaphysics is cool, you know abstract concepts, the fundamental essence of being, the intersection of time and space with cause and effect, and….you know what, I’m really too tired to deal with all this philosophical bullshit right now, I’m stressed out, tired and just feel….Meh!
What’s on TV tonight?

Don’t Forget To Turn Back Your Biological Clock This Weekend

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trippy-clock

DST?OMG?WTF?

I attempted to shake the vodka cloud from my head as I headed towards the bathroom. In an effort to remove the morning mental mist that settles in after on of those nights I rubbed my face and peeked into the mirror. There staring back at me was my Dad. OMFG, who is that? Who am I? The old dude I used to make fun of for having a soft bulging Buddha belly and a head of hair who’s only wave is the one that says good bye looking back at me. I have morphed into my father, and the worst part is its not the young dashing man in my parents wedding photo but the outdated bargain bin model. The grumpy old manchild in the promised land whose pants never seemed to fit right Not the leisure suit wearing try to be hip with the “in crowd” Dad with a comb over in a successful attempt to embarrass me, but the wrinkled and bloated bald dude whose only conversations involve his particular ailment of the day Dad. That’s the one looking back at me. Crows feet around my darkened eyes, wrinkles where my cheekbones used to reside, a fading grey beard, and a forehead that is over two inches higher than I thought it was. I have the face of an old man. I looked at my hands, my stomach. Old. When did this happen? How did time ravage my body so cruelly rearranging everything making everything so wrinkled, so fragile? Why does my skin not seem to fit tight anymore? Everything has gotten soft yet life continues to be hard. I’ve aged ungracefully and feel as though I have been one upped by time. And time snuck up on me like the devious practical joker it is, took away my High Times magazine replacing it with an AARP magazine. And membership card!

What do I know about this time thing, this tricky conniving concept that creeps and slithers around unnoticed until it chooses to rear its timeworn ugly head? This cruel dark spirit that sneaks into you room while you sleep and tugs out your hair, squeezes your bladder, and gives you random smacks so you wake up wondering exactly which part hurts this morning and why. Is time on my side? No it isn’t Mick! Time may allow you moves like Jaeger when you’re young but when you use up too much time you’ll pay for it with osteoporosis, poor eyesight, and a compromised digestive system. Fuck time!

Time and time again I was put in time out. This time, next time, anytime, Time in time out, time zone, time time time. Parsley sage rosemary and time. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyway, its that time of the year to change the time of day. Another tricky time maneuver. I have heard it said it was Bennie Franklins idea but I blame time, in another surreptitious plot to mess with our biological clocks, which for some fucked up reasoned I the one clock we can’t set back. Sneaky because that was my fall back on plan, to reset my biological clock back to maybe my thirties or something, but time won’t let me. My fall back is to not spring forward to quickly but that ship has sailed and this body can no longer spring without consequence. Damn you time, you won again, you’re the slinky descending my steps in intense determination unwilling to stop for anything. So time will just seep marching on and moving forward so the only thing left for me to do is look back in the mirror again, look lovingly at my reflection and say, “Love you and miss you Dad, wish we had more time.” Don’t waste it, make the best of your time, spend it with the ones you love. it’s the best investment you’ll ever make

BTW, don’t forget to change your clocks, spring ahead, fall behind…….PEACE

Monarch Of The Univers (episode II)

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butter

Previously on Monarch Of The Universe: I thought I was alone but to my surprise I received an answer. “Maybe I can help.” I looked about the room, no one here but me. Oh Jesus now I’m hearing hallucinations. I walked over to the stereo thinking it may have come from the speakers. Nothing. I laid down and tried meditating when a butterfly fluttered in front of me and landed on my chest. I stared in confusion when out of nowhere it began to talk to me. That is to say it communicated to me, it didn’t actually move its lips and speak, it communicated in an unspoken language it called the language of the cosmos.

THE SCREAM OF THE BUTTERFLY
Skeptical? God damn right I was skeptical! I was sure this was more five hit of barrel acid hallucinating but this butterfly went on communicating and explained to me that she is speaking to me in a language of time, a language that can be found hidden in every living things DNA if one knows where to look. The communication DNA she called it, even predates the dinosaurs having been mixed into the primordial soup which became life on earth. The language of the cosmos was etched deep into Mother Earths DNA so every splice of living organisms contains the secret language. Okay, sounds like too much acid, I get it, but my butterfly friend assured me that this communication exists in every galaxy, in every universe shared by all living organisms on planets everywhere. She went on to explain how the DNA code is misinterpreted or misunderstood most of the time and thereby disregarded. Life is so pre-occupied with survival strategies and procreation it no longer hears it, and because my mind is so wide open from the unusual amount of LSD I took I’m able to listen. “Just don’t let clouds get in the way” she told me, “clouds refract the real truths.” She assured me that would make sense to me someday, when the Monarch of the universe rises again.” The communication was a kind of swirling current, like a vast ever flowing ocean current and right now I am in a rip tide so to speak. Or so to communicate to be more literal. She fluttered in front of me a danced about in the air until I understood the movements of her butterfly dance was the communication.
Through her graceful movements she imparted an “enlightening” of its transformation of life into my mind with nary a word. Unspoken yet as clear as any story I’d ever heard read aloud. The story was nothing I had imagined a butterflies life to be. They break out of their eggs as teeny wormlike creatures and have an unyielding hunger for milkweed leaves. With no legs, just a some suction cups and a voracious appetite they hang around eating these leaves all day. They have very soft bodies and are loaded with protein so they’re a favorite snack for larger predators. Being so low on the food chain, and moving in such a slow and odd looking way they are a target of bullying by other insects being called names and getting teased. They have strange bodies and they look like what bully insects describe as “fat worms with bad toupees“, or “grub worms going through puberty on steroids“, or just “hairy slugs.” They make fun of the way they hunch up to move calling them crawling baby camel dicks. The ridicule they receive from other insects is brutal and non stop. After a life of being tortured bullied and teased relentlessly they form warm cocoons where they can hide their shame.
Once inside this cocoon they begin to cry and because of the acidic composition of the milkweed leaves in their diets their tears become corrosive and dissolve their worm parts into a gooey liquid like substance. That’s when the magic happens, when a life of misery and shame is transformed into a beautiful free creature that is the envy of the avian world. As the cocoon cools down the substance takes the form of an insect with six legs, a thin yet strong body, and rolled up shoulders which contain no blood. Once outside they pump blood into their shoulders making them puff up with pride forming regal and beautiful wings. The wing are magnificent allowing the little creatures to soar up into the skies. Before they take flight they hide three secrets they learned in their former lives in the dust of the cocoon. Once the secrets are safely stowed away they loudly let out the scream of the butterfly announcing to the world that the Monarch has risen.
I was more than fascinated by the butterfly’s story and I was absorbed completely by its visual language. I understood its tale as though it had been inside my head forever. She spread her wings, circled the room three times before landing back on my chest. Majestic in every sense. Next she stretched out her wings and revealed a bright golden diamond on brown gossamer wings. I had no more images of Olive cheating on Popeye with Wimpy, no more inner warrior winking at me from the mirror, and no more mysterious music sneaking out of my stereo. Just me and the butterfly. The butterfly communicated soothingly assuring me we would meet again but for now I need just remember our communication, remember where the three truths were hidden.

Now I know that seems like just another of my bizarre hallucinations and truth is so did I, but a startling event that transpired cemented the reality of me hearing the scream of the butterfly. My best friend Ken came over bragging to me that he just got some blue cheer LSD and was planning on tripping this week. I had told him about my intense accidental trip, omitting the butterfly part, so he understood that for the time being I wasn’t gonna trip at all. I told him to enjoy but just do one hit at a time and he smiled a big huge shit eating Cheshire cat grin. “JT my man, I got something for you too. I know you don’t want no acid yet but my connection offered my some special pre-rolled joints for five bucks apiece. He called em ‘Cocoon Dust’ and said they are intense and kind of spiritual so I got six, all I could afford. Three for me and three for you good dude.” I was stunned, literally stunned and needed to make sure I heard him, “Cocoon dust? Did you say cocoon dust?” I felt paralyzed but he went on, “Yea dude, its supposed to be the best smoke high you can get, like not angel or green weed, its not like its PCP man, its something like more spiritual or something, kinda like smoking mescaline or peyote. Some Indian tribe in Mexico scrapes cocoon dust and mixes it with ground cactus root and rolls them up. I got you the three, you want em or not dude?” Cocoon dust, holy fucking shit man. I never told him about the cocoon dust and the three secrets and now he is offering me three joints of something called cocoon dust. One for each secret? I could still barely move but was enthusiastic. “Are you fucking kidding me dude? Of course I want them, you’re the friggen best friend ever bro.” He handed them to me and I placed them behind the foil of my Marlboro cigarette box. “When you wanna smoke them man?” Ken shook his head, “No man dude says ya gotta puff each one yourself, its not a sharing kind of joint. What I’m sayin’ is you don’t have to wait for me he says it’s a personal high. Its not the kind of joint you puff and pass, it burns real quick and you only get like three or four hits before it gone and you got take all the hits. Supposed to hit it super fast or something. Funny shit huh? Instead of chugging beers we be chugging a joint made from cactus and butterflies.
TBC

Teenage Punchline, Mischief night, 1970

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mischeif

Being the youngest of five boys I was pretty much predestined to be the practical joker of the family. Sometimes pissing off your big brothers is the only way to get noticed, even if the result is a painful punch in arm. I swear there must have been a target on my upper arm because each one of them wailed on my arm in the exact same spot. But pain aside it was worth the effort to piss them off. Dirty smelly sock in their pillowcases, fake puke on their dressers, fake shit in the bed, fly in the ice cube, dirty soap, stink bombs, I did it all. My cornerstone trick was to place a book atop the lightly opened door so when they came home drunk it would crack them in the head as they walked in That is until the last time I pulled it using my chemistry book my middle brother. He was so pissed when that heavy text book crashed on top of his head he threw it towards my head as I lay in bed giggling odd job style effectively turning the periodic tables on me.

So mischief night was pretty much a challenge to me. TP’ing trees were cool and if trivial history reports can be believed it was when a brown bear first experienced the joy of the softness of Charmin. Shaving cream flowed like silly string and eggs got hurled by the dozens, but everyone did that. Of course a bag of strategically placed dog shit set on fire was popular but using the front stoop was beneath me. It was up to me to raise the mischief stakes.

I choose my victims wisely most of the time. On this particular evening I thought it woul be hilarious to care my steady girlfriend. Her younger brother was enlisted to distract and prepare her with some scary stories. The usual array, maniacs in cemeteries on the loose, strange noises and typical Goosebumps style tales. So my cute little blond high school sweetheart was feeling a bit anxious when I set my plan in motion. I had snuck in her house, into her room and hidden myself in her hamper. I know it seems kinda creepy now but back then I wasn’t a pervert yet. There I waited while her brother warned her about the lunatic seen around the neighborhood the last few nights. Coupled with the twice told tales I was certain she was on edge and when I surprised her she would jump ten feet in the air. It was all I could do to contain my laughter covered in her dirty laundry as I imagined the results.

I heard her enter her room and tried to ascertain exactly where she was so I could get the most benefit. I lifted the top of the hamper up ever so slightly and slowly hoping to get a good view when I noticed her walking directly toward me. As she got into striking distance I jumped up throwing the hamper lid in the air and gave her my best maniacal goblin scream. That night I learned something new I had not even considered. I learned that my cute tiny little blonde bombshell had a right hook that could earn her the golden gloves award.

My head snapped sharply to the right and I could feel my eye socket swelling already. By the time I regained my composure and turned to face her loud scream prepared me for the delivery of the left cross that was to follow. That cute little bundle of fifteen year old sweetness damn near knocked my ass out. I went reeling to the ground and she stood over me like a warrior ninja waiting to finish me off. When she realized it was a lame attempt to scare her and she had just punched the shit out of her boyfriend the mood changed. Huge surprises come in small packages. She hit harder than my brothers.

Now of course there is a silver lining here, my cute little hey babe felt absolutely horrible for having put my lights out and causing my eye and cheek to swell up coaxing her to apply the perfect amount of tender loving care for a sixteen year old impressionable boy. I just never imagined the impression she made would be on my face. After a number of kissing and soothing followed by a hint at possible extreme measures to make me feel better the reality set in. “What the hell were you doing hiding in my laundry trying to scare me?” I rubbed my sore face and decided the prudent thing to do was leave that unchallenged and just apologize. No more mischief for me….PEACE

The Great God Swindle (it is written)

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god

4th Century AD
“Verily I say to thee have you heard yet the news Donatus? Galerius was found dead!” Donatus paused and rubbed his hairy chin. “No Arius, I have been to Carthage these two weeks. What of his ass-holiness Galerius, in what way did the old boy meet his fate? Foul play think you?” Arius looked at him sheepishly, “Not for mine to ponder Donatus, only what I know of is that Augustine and Ephrem talked of an ailment suffered of severe bowel pain. Perhaps stomach disease is what they speak of.” Donatus smiled, “I see Arius, the old man shit himself to death? No doubt his brains were found in the discharge a as well.” Arius smiled as his mentor continued, “I don’t trust Augustine nor that other asshole Ambrose for that matter. But I know not of Ephrem. Who is this Ephrem?“ Arius was eager to please his liege, “Ephrem is a scribe who writes tome for Constantine. My source claims he is writing the story of the beginning of all time. Well as Constantine and his cronies see it anyway.” Donatus shook his head knowingly, “And just who now shall take the reigns without Galerius in charge?” Arius bowed and chuckled, “ Constantine the lame, the son of Chlorus is looking to bring his fervent brand of Christianity to Rome. He wishes to have the Roman soldiers he fought alongside proclaim him so. If you asked me I believe Galerius was poisoned.” Donatus tightened his face, “Then I ask you. Why do you believe this to be the case?” Arius was gaining confidence, “You see Donatus, Constantine wishes to turn all of Rome into Christians and I have it on good authority that Plebius the physician paid him visits in the dark of night. I wouldn’t put it past Connie to have him fashion a poison to kill Galerius with. It is said Plebius studied under Botchelai the scholar, and is believed to be a follower now of Botchalism Now I hear that Connie wants to put all the stories of his Christian brethren on paper in a bound style.” Arius glanced at Donatus hoping for approval. “Who then is your good authority?” Without hesitation Arius told him it was Basil from the Trentino Province, a strong supporter of Donatus. After some time in deep thought Donatus declared, “Summon Basil, we shall all three dine this evening and speak of this momentous event”

Constantine was in an extremely good mood and had planned a feast and an orgy to celebrate the good news. With his best friends and confidants, Ambrose and Augustine he had successfully trapped The Emperor Diocletian with the lure of an underage maiden, forcing Diocletian into abdication. And now Plebius had taken care of the Emperor Galerius. It would only be a matter of time before he himself was named Emperor and with his cohorts he would spread his Christian faith throughout Rome, maybe the world. He would have his revenge then on the families of the one who killed his father. He would have their ancestry blackened forever by creating demons in their names, armies of the devil. They would be forever linked to Satan and their entire lineage would be damned for all time. The Arioch, Pursin, Dagon, Abbadon, and Balam line as well as many others will be marred. Oh the joy was near overwhelming him. “Thadeus, where is Marin? Am I to understand she has yet to come back from France with some chefs? I want this evenings feast to rival anything before created. Bigger even than Caligula! I have brought in Kumarajiva to translate this Kama Sutra of the Sanskrit. He has traveled far and brought many exotic women. This shall be the party of parties and the perfect time to have me proclaimed ruler of the Roman Empire. Where is Marin?” The faithful Thadeus had the plans well in hand already. “My lord, Marin is in the kitchen. He returned just this morning and has brought twelve cooks from France. They have a feast of food that shall be talked about for years to come. And the orgy room is at the ready as we speak. I promise you my lord, I have everything planned to perfection for the next Emperor of Rome. I would never let you down.” Connie laughed aloud, “Because you worship me or because you don’t want your head removed and added to my collection?” Again Thaddeus bowed, “If that be my fate my lord I would accept it happily. My only wish is to serve you.” Yes, but served how? Skewered on a plate of silver? Time shall tell.

Basil arrived just prior to dinner. Donatus and Arius had already begun sipping the wine. “I am here Donatus, an I have much news.” Donatus wiped the wine that had been settling amongst the thick hair of his beard. The back of his sleeve now red from wine. “Ah Basil, come on we have much to talk about.” Donatus poured a large chalice of wine, “Come on then, you must catch up.” Basil pounded own the devils beverage and held his chalice out for refill. The smile on his face was genuine, despite the rapid enhancement of alcohol. “Donatus this shithead Constantine is certain to be crowned emperor of Rome. He has had Galerius poisoned, forced Diocletian to abdicate and now he plans on writing this book he is calling The Holy Bible or some shit in which he claims God creating man and Satan being the devil. Nary a word of Azazel the all mighty. I have spoken directly to Jerome who is working with this Ephrem the scribe. He plans to create a list of something he is calling demons and wants to include the story of that Christ fellow who wandered around preaching lies until Caesar hung out to dry. He is spinning some story of the guy rising from the dead. It could change everything.” The concern of Basil was real, and he was right to be concerned but Donatus had to know all the details. “So Basil my dear friend, how is it you know so much of this? Surely you aren’t relying solely on the word of Jerome, an out of work storyteller.” All three paused to drink more wine as the first course arrived. Breast of whippoorwill flambé. Basil grabbed the breast hole and bit it in half and spoke while chewing,” Of course not Donatus, not just Jerome. I had Thadeus over the other day and I fed him some absinthe and herb and his tongue got looser than goose shit.” Donatus glared at him and spoke, “I wish you hadn’t said that!” The pause became slightly awkward and both Basil and Arius were frozen. Basil found enough nerve to speak. “It was just a social visit, I never mentioned anything at all to Thadeus.” The two men looked up at Donatus who had stood up, “Oh fuck no, I’m not talking about Thadeus the little shit, I mean I wish you didn’t say goose shit.” Donatus had an impish gleaming smile in his eyes, “ Goose is our entrée tonight.” Through a conclave of laughter Arius claimed, “I should know you by now my liege. I nearly shat a pigeon!” The tone had changed, the mood lightened as the three men enjoyed their dinner with gaiety. The profound discussions would wait to allow the men some mirth. Later the rituals.

The Gospel According To Fluke (another sick bastard bible selection)

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fluke

A disastrous misprint was made in the preface of Fluke when describing his reason for writing it. A typo of biblical proportions has us believing Fluke was writing a historical account when what he actually chiseled onto the slate was a hysterical account. Fluke was the joker of the group, the merry apostle. The disciple class clown always making fart noises when Jesus was preaching, and goosing Mary Magdalene when no one watched. Mary would squeal and turn around never sure if it was Judas “roaming hands” Iscariot, Peter the pedophile, or Fluke The Funny. So when Fluke set out to tell his version of the life of JC it was meant as a comedy.

Flukes version contains the story of John Hobbit The Baptist and is followed with a trilogy of parables about A prodigal son, a good Samaritan, and a gold coin. The true authorship has been in question an many biblical scholars disagree on whether he had a ghost writer named JRR, or if it was written by a team of Jewish writers up in the Catskills. No matter, The existential Baker plans on using his creative license, which doesn’t expire until next year, to re-interpret the important stories in the Gospel According to Fluke.

John the Baptist was a short man with huge feet whose ministry practice was limited to The Shire, a land of god fearing hobbits who were as diminutive in strength as they were in size. John convinced them they were the meek and would one day inherit the earth. He left out the part about it being middle earth, but they’re brains were pretty tiny as well. In fact the only disproportionately large part of them at all aside from their feet was their…. well their hobbit poles. Many believe it was the incessant squealing from the lady hobbits that drew Jesus to the Shire when in fact he heard “Son of god are you coming” when they were screeching “Oh my god I’m coming.” But Jesus did arrive and John the Hobbit was there to baptize him in the wilderness of the Shire.

After dunking Jeez a few times in hobbit water John announced to the crowd watching that this guy JC claims to be the son of god and he believes the story asking them to follow him. On Twitter. Jesus acquired over 200 followers that day and thanked John, who noticed his gold wedding band was missing. He was concerned perhaps the carpenter had snuck this the ring off his finger and pocketed it for himself. Aside from being his wedding band the ring had magical powers.

It seems that during a wild bachelor party hosted by a wizard friend who gets John Hobbit drunk and convinces him to become a burglar to steal a gold ring from a dragon that had stowed away on Noah’s Ark. But John comes across an outcast named Gollum who challenges him to a game of Candy Crush Saga. John Hobbit used his gaming skills to extract the ring which can turn the holder invisible.

John cornered Jesus in a temple bingo room but just as John grabbed him Jesus disappeared one can only assume, using the stolen ring. John would never find out as the last part of Flukes story of John The Hobbit Baptist ended with Johns head rolling around on a platter some Orcs served to King Herod as a present from Sauron.

Having some decent success with his first story of the Shire Fluke sat down to write a trilogy of three parables Jesus had told calling it “The Lord Made Off With The Ring” It would one day become a blockbuster. It is Fluke tale of how Jesus convinced a theater full of people to believe in his god with reverence. The crowd gathered to hear how they themselves could become free of sin in five easy payments, and this is how Jesus accomplished the feat.

He started out so simple, with the fellowship of the sheep. Seems a farmer had 100 sheep and one of the sheep was a sinner, sneaking around an getting into the lady sheep’s woolen love buttons. So ecstatic from the sex was this sheep it got lost. The shepherd asked Jesus why he should chase this one sheep instead of just caring for the other 99. Jeez said, “There is great joy in heaven when a sinner repents. Go to him, forgive him and allow him back in the flock.” The shepherd did as he was told spending hour searching for the lost sheep to find an forgive him. As a reward for doing as he was told, Jesus gave the shepherd a woolen sweater and a case of Woolite for the flock.

The second parable was the Coins in The Tower. A woman was up in her ivory tower counting her coins when she noticed one missing. She called down to her friends and everyone searched. When the woman found the coin Jesus aid to her, “There is great joy in heaven when one rejoices with others in the presence of angels. Call your friends, rejoice with them and make the angels happy.” So the woman called her friends and to help her rejoice invited them to Marini’s Bar, where every time a bell rings an angel gets their wings. The angels got their wings, the woman’s friends got drunk for free, and the woman got Jesus out of her tower so she could go back to her old lifestyle.

The final story the J man told the crowd was “The Return Of The Son”. This was to be Flukes cornerstone parable, the one everyone would remember, maybe even resulting in a few prequels. It seems a father had two sons and the youngest one asked for his inheritance early before the Dad croaks. The father can’t wait to get the long haired lazy boy out of the house so he agrees as long as the kid takes the money and runs. He does just that, blowing all the money, much of it ironically blown on blow, and en up running out of money. He skulks back home but surprisingly the father has had a change of heart. Literally, he had a heart transplant and was now much stronger and virile. He had found a new lover and was into partying himself. The older son was livid and denied his little brother existence. Jesus took the older brother aside and told him, “God is holy and cannot allow sin, but he must leave room in his heart for forgiveness and remain humble. So shut up, be humble, and go have some friggen fun!”

These are the stories Fluke was working on at any rate. Of course this version never made it to the official bible, but it can be found along with many other truthful accounts of ancient times in The Sick Bastards Bible. So stop reading and go have dome friggen fun!!!!! PEACE

Show Some Anger For All The Three Piece Grinners

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corporate-greed_27-06-1882

If there is a shark in the water circling a lawyer, the only real question is how do you save the shark? Maybe its not a lawyer, maybe a banker who has lost your interest or an account who’s fuzzy math you never calculated in the scenario. Everyone seems to be pissed off at lawyers and congress these days and rightly so, they have shown little regard for anyone’s agenda except their own, but don’t let up on other suits with lying smiles. They’re gonna like the way your money looks on them, I guarantee it.

There are half a million bad lawyer jokes, not that the jokes are bad but the lawyers are. Why are lawyers always the butt of the joke? Mainly because they’re butts, but also because they smile in your face while emptying your bank account. I have heard countless stories of lawyers making a fortune screwing people in divorces, contract disputes, inheritance issues, just about any legal matter they can extract a penny. Its actually hard to not have distain for those ass clowns that use the “letter of the law” to screw one party over to make themselves a good living. They leave you with three letters of the law, an IOU. Politicians have entered the rant on arena as well and now the popular jokes about political ass clowns are all stuck in a tiny car as well. Why they even dragged up joke formats covered in dust to rail out at congress, throw a hundred dollars out he window of a plane and make a hundred peoples day. Throw all of congress out an make everyone’s day. Ass clowns! Big shoes to fill.

But seriously, if we toss out congress who will fill their giant clown shoes? Enter the bankers, accountants, and other smiling suit clowns. So what I’m proposing is to back off just a little bit on the lawyers and politicians and throw some disdainful jokes at accountants and bankers. The accountants wife was having trouble sleeping so she aid, “Tell me all about your day.” Then she pulls up the balance sheets and bores herself to sleep. He’s upset because he was hoping she would use spread sheets. Or why is the banker crying? He found himself a loan. No one depreciates a banker, no interest. What I’m saying here is widen the circle of distain driven jokes, keep giving shit to lawyers and politicians, but add other smiling sharks in three piece suits as well, because they can be just as self centered and devious, and they deserve to have some of the mud slung at them as well. Beware the smile behind the suit, it may very well be hiding a knife in its briefcase.

Transcendental Medication, episode III

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

mc-escher-humanity

Previously on Transcendental Medication:
Nothing is the absence of anything. Anything is something so nothing must be something if its anything

She was very attractive with piercing hazel green eyes and long straight black hair tied up neatly in a swinging ponytail but allowing perfectly cut bangs to cover her forehead. Her eyes were as stunning as a Montana sky and just as vast.

Butterflies had left my stomach and created a chrysalis caravan traveling through my digestive tract straight towards my reproductive organs. It was complicated even more profoundly by her sensual and suggestive tone echoing through my soul. Maybe she wasn’t even there to begin with, the line that separated reality from non-reality had become wafer thin.

III Begin At The Beginning

When I got home the first thing I did was pour myself a big glass of wine. A very big glass of wine. I needed to process what just happened today and decide if it was wise to go back. The more I thought about the nurse the more I feared it was all in my head. Was I imagining some pornographic manifestation of a dominatrix nurse? A scene from “Romancing The Bone” or “A Cockwork Orange ” in the hopes of some spiritual sexcapade while under acupunctural meditation? A wet daydream? Maybe I’m hoping for a close encounter of the supernatural sexual kind. Everything about it seemed so very real and she seemed to know me almost intimately. Besides I need to know what the hell this nothing bullshit was all about and how far I would be taking this so I’m definitely going. Then again what if I go back to the opposite universe and its Kha that ties me up and toys with my pleasure zones. Erotic adventures involving Dr. Kha’s thermometer probes and patient doctor confidentiality. Then again if it is the nurse she was so hot and so sexy my libido did triple somersaults with a full twist and was hoping to stick a landing. I would have made a contract with the devil himself for an evening of exploration with her but who and what can I trust? Doctor Kha said equal and opposite! I’m not even sure if she was a manifestation of my inner desires or if that sweet temptress really exists. Maybe its nothing!
I finished the large glass of wine and as I poured a second I glanced at the calendar. My eyes went directly to two days from now, Friday the 27th. Twenty seven is a good number as numbers go. Two is balance and union and seven is a very spiritual number, in nearly every religion. Together they add up to nine which is the highest level of changes. Hmmm, union, balance, and change! I looked away closing my eyes as if to think about it but I knew my mind was made up. I mean a night of deep philosophic discovery contemplating the secrets of science followed by a fantasy involving wild abandoned sex, what’s not to like. Secrets of science? OMFG, have I become a nerd? Maybe so, but when I wake up Saturday morning I will be one happy and satisfied nerd. I glanced dreamily back at the calendar but all I saw were those beautiful hazel eyes filled with longing and promise. Friday it is!

The day couldn’t possibly have dragged on longer if it were fitted with friction bars. From the moment I woke up all the way through the day all I could think of was my dominatrix nurse. I made four errors on my lunch orders at the restaurant which is four more than usual, and my head just wasn’t in it at all. But the shift finally limped slowly to an end and I flew home to prepare for my journey. Nothing was on my mind. That is to say nothing and sex was on my mind. Maybe nothing but sex, but I was very excited on so many levels. After the longest shower in history I did my best to look my best and it certainly wasn’t for nothing, at least I was hoping it wasn‘t.
When I arrived no one seemed as excited as I was, acting as if this were just another mundane visit. Maybe it was for them but I came here to be enlightened and turned on like never before. Dr. Kha led me back to my cot, my waiting room to nothing, and began inserting his needles. “Hmmm, I feel much tension JT, I think I need put more puncture in foot today. Not want you running away, eh?” Oh yea, he knew something was up, or rather that nothing was up. “Just really looking forward to what’s in store Kha, to pick up exactly where I left off the other day.” My smile must have been huge. “I see. Remember JT, every session new session. Like snowflake nothing ever exact.” I turned to look at him but he was already gone. I thought about a line from The Wizard of Oz and laughed, “My, people come and go so quickly here”, then I laid back to meditate while thinking of other Oz quotes. “Some people without brains do an awful lot of thinking, a heart is not judged by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others, you’re confusing courage with wisdom my friend.” I entered my zone, incense and music comforting me, a soothing sitar solo and I was transported again.
“Dr. Kha?” I pushed my way past the dimension curtain. “Very clever JT, using Wizard of Oz. You think other dimension same as Oz for Dorothy? Maybe you same than Dorothy.” I could feel a strong burst of air pushing me back towards the curtain and had to fight it off. “You gotta admit there are similarities Kha, I know I’m not in Kansas anymore.” The air kept me at bay. “True, no Kansas JT, but no Oz either. If you want learn about nothing you need to enter completely.” I fought off the air blast, “I can’t seem to get any further this air current is keeping me away.” Kha smiled, “No air current JT, is nothing. Nothing is what keep you from moving forward. If you want to understand nothing you must first conquer nothing.” Conquer nothing? What the hell is he talking about? I concentrated hard and the wind stopped. I could see my nurse off in the distance, on the other side of a pond or something. She caught my eye and smiled. I looked back at her and then at Kha.
What you see is desire JT, but before you receive reward of what you desire lesson must be understood. You are in paradox JT, time and space much different than what you know. In this dimension Schrödinger’s cat exist and not exist” I shook my head full of doubt, “Are you saying we are in a box Kha?” He laughed loudly, “Box? No JT, here no box, but here always need think out of box. No use logic, use sensory instincts. Let feelings guide you.” I glanced back over the pond but no nurse. “So am I really here or am I still laying on the mattress?” Kha smiled, “I sorry JT, cannot answer. Anyway wrong question. What you should ask is when are you here and when are you on mattress. First to understand time you need let go of perception. You measure time in linear progressions, seconds, minutes, hours. But time constant and wobbly, no straight. You have already existed and already ceased to exist, time not wait on you. Your life is how you experience time, how you put it in order to understand. But time not linear JT, time flexible.” Kha pulled out a yard of string, “This your life JT. For you it have beginning and end. But time have no beginning, no end, time ownry exist. You see your life from one end of string to other. If I give you string in different pieces you think it useless, just like if I show you your life at 19, then at 5, then at 30. Not make sense because out of order yet it all happen. That ownry way you can see time, moving straight and forward every second. If you want see time as time truly is need more than acupuncture and meditation. For special people I give transcendental medication. Combine acupuncture with special medication to help you understand. I believe you ready but it up to you JT.” He paused looking at me as if I needed time to consider, but he must have known if my life has already been that I was going to go for it. “Dr. Kha, I want to understand. It would be my honor and a privilege to undergo transcendental medication.” I gave him a sly smile, “When did I start?” I looked at him hoping he got my joke and saw he was smiling. “Very good JT, I see I have chosen you wisely. I leave now but I back to arrange session.” He pointed across the water to where my fantasy had been waiting, “Meantime, I recommend you take rowboat across pond.”
Right there in front of me was a small dinghy with oars. I jumped in and rowed like a maniacal teen about to lose his virginity towards whatever waited for me across the pond. When I got there the other side it was even more amazing than I thought possible. It was like an island paradise, brimming with plants, trees, and flowers of all colors. It smelled clean and new, lilac and fresh cut grass with a sense of serenity. I followed a path taking in the sheer beauty around me. Flowers with their genitals boldly hanging out on display for all to see, giving off intoxicating scents to tickle the minds of men. With every breath I felt desire building up inside me awaiting release. Then I saw her.
Not a nurse, not a dominatrix, not even an exotic island native woman, but that gorgeous hazel eyed enticing beautiful woman from my first visit dressed as if for a date “I’m so glad you chose to come back JT, I am Ambrosina. I’ve been waiting for you. Come to me.”
To Be Continued

medication

Drying My Eyes On The Wind

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meg walks

22 years ago today was the worst day of my life. The worst day of the worst week of the worst year. Our beautiful 19 month old daughter lost her courageous battle with heart disease. At only two months old Megan was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, an enlargement of the heart. Little Megan endured countless medical tests, blood draws, and a series of stays in hospitals. Through all of those tough times she cried in pain as she squeezed our fingers in desperation yet whenever my wife and I were in need she somehow managed the strength to give us a much needed smile. Megan is my hero.
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One lazy Sunday morning we were just getting ready to enjoy a day of relaxation with Megan when a strange noise crackled over the baby monitor. Maureen knew instantly and instinctively that something was wrong so we both ran up to her room only to find her struggling for breath. I pulled her from her crib and began mouth to mouth having received barely adequate emergency medical training as Maureen desperately dialed 911. An ambulance arrived in extremely rapid timing and two experienced EMT’s took her away from us. We closed up the house making sure everything was off, gave our confused sheltie pup food and ran out to meet her at the hospital. When we got there the ambulance had not yet arrived and we were triaged to a private room. In that room our imaginations got the best of u and through our tears we hoped by some miracle it didn’t mean she was gone. Subsequently we learned that Megan had ha a stroke brought on by her enlarged heart and the EMT’s had stopped to use defibrillation paddles on the way in. Megan was in intensive care with her cardiologist. There is something wrong about a seven month old child having a cardiologist.

meg

Around eleven o’clock, over twelve hours from first arriving the doctors informed us Megan needed a heart transplant. The news hit us hard, an electric shock circling my head then shooting down my spine. It took about two minute for the reality to sink in, and about twenty minute to intellectualize it and understand what we had to contend with next. We spent way too many hours in hospital, Maureen pretty much took up residency in the room with Megan and every free second was spend bedside. The doctors determined they were unprepared for a child heart transplant so Megan was airlifted to Philadelphia to a Children’s hospital. We lived in that hospital for about two months until one day one of the neuro doctors told Maureen that Megan had suffered a seizure and due to her poor chance of “normal” life she was removed from the transplant list. The did not believe she would ever walk or talk. We worked diligently with Megan and finally had her put back on the transplant list at Columbian Presbyterian in New York where she received a heart in September.

We lived in the hospital again for another 30 days me going to work then coming back, Maureen never leaving Megan’s side. The transplant was successful but she still had to endure daily poking an prodding and blood draws. We got to take her home and the feeling of relief was beyond compare. Seven days after being home Megan defiantly walked, and she smiled and was happy. On the eighth day I was at work and Maureen noticed Megan in distress and had to return to the hospital. Megan had contracted a very serious infection and we were back to round the clock care. It was devastating, but the real devastation was yet to come.

Megan was to weak and immuno-compromised to fight off the infection. I am still haunted by the mornings events of that day when I stood by my baby girl. Megan looked up at me with the pain of a million lifetimes in her eyes, still trying so hard to fight but looking exhausted. I knew what I had to do. My baby girl had fought so hard and so courageously not for herself but for us. She had endured countless hours of unpleasant tests and needle probing and she was in intense pain. I placed my hand on her head and looked lovingly into her soul, bent my head to her ear and whispered, “Its okay to let go baby girl. You don’t have to fight anymore.” She understood me as her eyes dampened. With tubes and hoses in her everywhere the only way she could communicate was with her eyes. She looked at me with a profound sadness and her eyes said “I’m sorry Daddy.” But she didn’t have anything to be sorry for, she had taught me more in her short life than I could have taught her in a lifetime. Now it was Maureen and I who were in intense pain. We stood back as a doctor performed his last official task, the beeps slowed to a stop and there was silence. Megan lay there with her eye closed, motionless, yet it was obvious she was relieved. One day I will write a story with this inspiration but for now I can only manage short recaps. Seems every time I recount Megan’s story my keyboard floods with tears and I dry my eyes on the wind.

I’m not looking for a pity party, not looking for condolence, I am merely sharing the story I am sure Megan would want me to. If you want to read the whole story you can visit our Facebook page, Megan Jarets Legacy. All I really hope to accomplish here today is this. Spread the word of organ donation awareness, please become an organ donor if your aren’t already, an please please please, take a few minutes out of your day to tell the people you love exactly how much they mean to you. We never know when an ultimate joy can be snatched from our hearts plunging us into a deep dark crevice. Maureen and I had both on separate occasions considered the possibility of suicide, we were the walking dead for over a month having a hard time finding a reason to go on. The funeral was horrible, a tiny casket with a beautiful child surrounded by her favorite toys and an endless line of well meaning people, most giving us responses that didn’t help a thing. Unfortunately many more have gone there before, many after, and many still to come, but for those still here, before the precious time runs out, share your love. Don’t keep all your love to yourself, spread it around…PEACE