Category: Uncategorized

All Shallows Eve

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

hallow

It comes as a surprise to many that Halloween is my least favorite holiday. The Existential baker is basically a fun loving dude who seldom misses an opportunity to party but like most things these days I feel the celebrations and revelry have spun way out of control. Back in the day we donned wafer thin material over our bodies with a hard plastic mask that fastened with a cheap rubber band across the head. That was the costume du jour. Spiderman,. Superman, Beetle Bailey (What?? It was 1st grade and I was impressionable) , whatever, those hard plastic face masks caused massive facial sweating while the slit for the tongue allowed us to dribble spit inside it as well. Those days were fun. Today however, the average costume costs near $30 with a ridiculously expensive $850 dollar collector edition Halo Master Chief taking the prize for most extravagant. Its become a who can outdo who for the best kid costume sparing no expense. Toddlers and tiara’s for a day. The adult costumes are even worse, many going to crazy lengths to be the talk of the ghostown. There are stores which dedicate their entire showrooms for that one holiday. I guess that’s why the begin advertising in August but at any rate in order to be in the height of Halloween fashion one needs to completely transcend just dressing like a goth or a slut. My Mom’s trick was to fool me into thinking I was a hobo by making me wear my older brothers ripped up clothes carrying a pillowcase as she marked my face with a mascara beard.

beetlebailey

Don’t get me wrong I loved trick or treating as a kid and went to great lengths to choose the perfect costume. I enjoy the fun size bar as much as anyone although today my standards of fun span much more than a half inch of chocolate bar. And of course part of my misspent youth involved some pranks and mischief but in my adolescence I found limiting it to just one day was just inviting trouble. I never did the burning paper bag of dog crap prank but I had my moments. But Halloween is overdone and has been taken to the edge. I mean, how are they gonna top it with the next generation?

With so many of us taking immature adulthood to new heights and responsible parenting to far below sub basement levels perhaps it will become a day set aside for today’s “whats in it for me” irresponsible adults so arrange for a babysitter. Start with a ghost haunting in the home because it would be full of boo’s. Or I mean booze. Picture this, at everyone’s door a stash of alcohol or other happy hour helpers at the ready. We dress up as authority figures, like maybe a mall cop, or “event security” and go door to door with our shot glasses and red solo cups. Ring the bell, and when the owner answers we all yell “Buzz or Beatdown” The owner then either pours a glass of beer or wine, fills a shot glass with their favorite liquor, or places a doob ash side in their mouth and proceeds to give a shotgun of silly smoke all around. I would go with the doob cuz there’s less of a chance of a beatdown from someone stoned than there is with alcohol laden drunkards. At worst a stoner will kick your shin. The occasional home of a chemist or pharmacist may have some prescription drugs or tripping product and everyone in the neighborhood will be sure to stop there before heading home. That would be a hellacious way to celebrate but there will be more sick outs the next day than the ay after the super-bowl.

But its not up to me as to how anyone chooses to celebrate their holiday and my job a it were is to come up with an offering of cupcakes that are themed out for October 31st. So here’s what I have coming up with at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes for next week. The “Drunkin’ Punkin,” a pumpkins cupcake filled with bourbon pecan custard, “Apple Stumble“, an apple cupcake filled with rum raisin, and for the kids “The Tricking Treat,” a chocolate cupcake with candy corn custard and candied topping.

Have a safe and fun Halloween, enjoy the crazy holiday responsibly and remember, never underestimate the power of a cupcake….Peace

Upper Crust Tailgating

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

atail

Existential cupcaking to raise money at The far Hill Steeplechase Race was an eye opener for the Existential Baker. We were asked by Neiman Marcus to supply cupcakes for their heavy hitting guests at The Far Hills racetrack who were donating bookoo bucks for a hospital. Always prepared to assist a great cause we agreed and had a nice section on top of a hill overlooking the track to set up. As a bonus I was permitted to enjoy some wonderful sushi and sashimi, shrimp, crab cakes, lamb chops, Veuve Clicqout Champagne, and to wash it all down some Grey Goose. It also afforded me an opportunity to walk around trackside to engage in some hoity toity people watching.

The existential Baker knows little of how to hobnob, never knowing if I’m hobbing or nobbing, but I am always at the ready for something new. Having lived amongst the 99% for my entire life I was unaccustomed to uppercrust customs. Now to start I am admittedly not much of a sport fan, but I have been to numerous football, baseball, and hockey games not so much for the cultural experience but more for the atmosphere. Not being vested in any one team made being an observer much less of a spectacle in a spectator sport. Never one to paint my face in team colors, or dress head to toe as if I should be on the field, or otherwise engage in any of the fanatical aspects of being a fan I watched. I enjoyed people watching even more than the sport itself. During Ranger Islander games I scoured the crowds noticing for all its negative publicity for fighting on the ice there were far more fistfights in the stands. At Yankee games I learned how elitist and condescending a fan can become, but football was the golden jewel of people watching by way of the phenomena of football tailgates.

The parking lot is transformed into cave-like tribal sections complete with all the grunting and food gorging and beverage swilling one would expect of a Neanderthal Reunion. Rival factions wearing their tribal colors begin the tailgate as friends and on an equal respect level until enough hops and malts are consumed to strengthen their bravado muscles. Mostly the ones in and around the vocal chord area. Each tribe has its tables and cooking sources and the food is nothing short of a famed Roman feast with a modern twist. Grills loaded with whole chickens, huge massive beef parts, lamb, more grilled items than an caveman could shake a stick at. A grilling smorgasbord with an array of sides. But the main function of the tailgate is to imbibe a massive amount of beer. The result is feuding tribes of sloppy drunk average guys and girls heading into a stadium to watch professional gladiators play a game. Not at steeplechases!!!

The difference was immediate. Their style of dress was not weekend warriors but reserve fashion chic with a few over the top statements like bright pink striped pants or unusual tophats, but very expensive clothing. Nothing off the rack, everything very chic. Burberry boots, Dolce and Gabbana, all the best. Like LL Bean on very expensive designer steroids. Hair recently coiffed, manscaped and manicured couples all in neatly pressed clothing. Their cave sections were less barbaric as well, instead of grille meats it was a catered affair, complete with waitstaff. Bars set up with premium liquors, chaffing dishes of food everywhere, and red solo cups? Oh Hell no, not at this party, actually glassware. And they openly place their bets on the horse. “Oh for heavens sake I dropped another ace” means Holy shit I lost a hundred bucks on that horse! But it was nothing short of just another tailgate, the result being a more sophisticate brand of drunken idiots. The buzz from Grey Goose isn’t much different from the buzz achieved by Wolfsmith vodka. A number of heated disagreements broke out leading to some major face to face reddened angry speak.

But in the end a lot of money was raised for a great cause and I had a opportunity to see how the beautiful people spend their free time during their preferred sporting events. All in all the guys were lacking in couth but it was accepted as boys will be boys banter, with a bit too much stress put on sexual innuendo. This leads me to believe that the well off young men are quite sexually frustrated, and either the sex talk went over much of the young ladies heads, or they just ignored the boys knowing that I have a headache will work later on. PEACE

avi

The Monarch Of The Universe

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

mon of uni

Another never again moment. I’ve had way too many of them, late nights hugging the toilet bowl somehow empting more contents from my stomach than went in. How many times was I thinking I may have just thrown up my liver or pancreas? How may times have I said never again? Well at least this time I’m saying never again not because I’m puking up my internal organs from mixing every alcohol I could get my lips around. Nope not this time, this particular never again moment is because my hallucinations are over the top. Never again will JT take five hits of barrel acid, a favorite tripping substance for LSD users like myself. One is sufficient for a fantastic trip because barrel acid is pretty powerful, two is pushing it a bit closer to the edge and not normally recommended. Taking three hits is unusual and dangerously close to going over that edge but its not unheard of. But five?! That’s just fucking insane man, something that even the most seasoned tripper stacked with frequent flying miles wouldn’t do that on purpose. To be honest clinical insanity was what I feared most.
So how is it that I am laying in bed in a room I share with my brother tripping like McMurtreys cast of loonies in the cuckoos nest? Because in a moment of sheer marijuana driven panic I made an ill advised choice. My Mom came back unexpectedly and I had five hits of premium trip-worthy barrel acid on the table. I was looking longingly at my freshly acquired controlled substance contemplating who I would abuse them with when I heard the door open. In a rush of paranoia I grabbed all five and shoved them quickly in my mouth. Not in my pocket where they would have been safely stowed from sight but in my mouth! I heard her threatening heels clanking closer as she approached the kitchen and I did the only thing I could think of. I swallowed. Mom came in and glared at me, “What are you doing here in the kitchen? What are you up to now young man?” As I swallowed the tabs I nervously responded, “What do you mean up to? I ain’t doing nothing.” Mom believed that parenting was a responsibility in which she was obliged to constantly belittle me and correct my English. She was relentless at making me feel like shit, “You aren’t doing anything JT, and don’t lie to me I can tell when you’re up to something, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” I had recently smoked a joint blowing the smoke out my window and I almost chuckled thinking about Tweedy Pie and Sylvester but I needed to keep it together and switch the focus, “Okay, okay I’m not doing anything mother, just looking for a snack. Why are you back so early anyway?” she stared at me in an all too familiar way, deadpan suspicion “Yea well I forgot something and your dad is outside waiting. But if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on maybe I should just stay home.” Jesus Christ no! Just the thought of that made me shiver perceptibly. Time to use my ultimate teen weapon, the disdainful you never trust me sarcasm, “Yea sure Mom, I’m planning an mass murder, I was just in here choosing which of your knives will make the cleanest stab! Why is it you always think I‘m up to something? You never trust me.” I knew I sold it. Mom shook her head in mock disgust and started towards the door, “One of these days JT you’re gonna say something you’ll regret and someone will take you serious. For gods sake grow up. You stay out of trouble and we’ll see about lifting your grounding tomorrow. Go clean your room and then we can talk about trust!” As she walked out the door I sneered while under my breath I spoke bravely, “Yea fucking right, my groundation! What a fucking joke!”
I was pissed off because most everyone else I know is at the Civic Center at the Jethro Tull concert and I’m stuck here because I missed and assignment in social studies. Social Studies, another joke! Anyway this acid is gonna start coming on in a while so I need to prepare. Time to head up into my sanctuary away from this screwed up world. Up to my bedroom which I share with my older brother who just won’t move out so I can have it to myself. 22years old and still living home the damn loser. Not me man as soon as I turn eighteen I’m outta this shithole of a house. Fuck it, at least I will be tripping my brains out tonight. Little did I know how close to literal that would become.

The cid was kicking in so I got settled in. What to do? First things first. I lit some patchouli incense and turned on my blacklight to make my psychedelic posters burst with colors and movement. I pranced over to my cheap stereo to choose an album. Being in a Jimi mood I put on Bold As Love, side A. It starts off with a funny UFO spoof then quickly kicks into a typical Jimi Hendrix guitar explosion. The album was awesome and premium tripping material. I laid back on my bed and began seeing some very strange visions. The ceiling was normally blank but because of the LSD I perceived it to be full of images, most of which were moving like a film strips. Popeye strangling Brutus, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote running in circles like a dog chasing its tail, and that sort of thing. High def hallucinations. After watching these assorted hallucinations awhile I had to keep reminding myself that they weren’t real. Then I focused on one in particular, Wimpy humping Olive Oyl and he was pumping away to the music. Popeye, Brutus, and an array of cartoon character I don’t remember were all watching and cheering them on. Olive was panting and moaning her skinny and boney legs way up in the air, and Wimpy had lost some weight and was unbelievably in time with the music, thrusting along with the chords. Other characters were clapping, Olive was screaming “Ohhhh Popppppeye!!!“ and Wimpy kept saying “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a good fucking today” still pumping as if dancing. I laughed out loud until I realized something strange. Not that the scene wasn’t already strange enough but this was scary strange. The music Wimpy was humping to was not the album I put on. As a matter of fact it was music I never heard of before, filled with really weird electronic sounds. I jumped up, the hallucinations disappeared and I ran to my stereo. The album was over and I had no clue how long ago it ended.
I shook my head trying to get straight and flip the album over. I stood to reassure myself, “Its just a trip JT, you’re tripping and everything’s okay. Only a trip, it’s the acid, none of this is real.” Feeling only slightly better I headed back to my bed but someone stopped the album. When I looked over it started again, then happened once more. I was certain my asshole brother had come home, knew I was tripping and thought it would be funny to goof on me. “hey cut it out man, that’s not funny!” No response. I looked around. No sign of Robert, no one anywhere, but the music was now playing normal. I turned to get back to my bed when one of my posters, an American Indian chief with tie dye colors all around him began moving. He was breathing and flexing his muscles, holding up a tomahawk. “Holy fuck! This isn’t fucking real man, it can’t be.”
The full force of the five hits of acid were hitting me now. I slinked back into bed and closed my eyes tight but they kept popping open. I had to keep reminding myself I was tripping so I wouldn’t flip out. Can’t sleep, no one to talk to, I gotta see myself through this. But right now I have to take a pee. Off to the bathroom. One of the things about tripping is it intensifies every feeling, whether its making love like never before, hearing music that pulls at your soul, or even pissing. Even better than that pee held in during a long road trip waiting for the next rest top. But there is another oddity when tripping, when you see am image of yourself and its distorted you need to focus and look away before you begin to freak out thinking its how you really look. As I turned from the toilet bowl I was confronted with a full length mirror that had a most frightening and imposing figure staring back at me.
Everything seemed to come to a halt, even time itself. I was staring at a foreboding image of myself painted like a warrior of some sort complete with a bizarre war paint. Split directly down the center of my face and body was a line, on the right side everything yellow except two stripes of dark brown war paint on my forehead angling upwards, a semi circle around my eye, and two more stripes on my cheek in a downward angle. My left side was a dark brown yang to the bright yellow yin. I must say I looked fierce. I stared for a few seconds trying to intellectualize the event and put it into perspective but my perspective had gone out for a walk in the woods and I wasn’t sure it would ever return. The war paint began breathing, or pulsating and changing colors. War paint of dark brown, bright yellow, and dayglo orange were spinning around my face. My cheeks were drooping, my nose twisted and my forehead protruded immensely. I was hideous, a worse image than finding a face full of pimples the day of a date. I issued a long drawn out “Ohhhh My God” and forced myself away from the image. Like I was a Piccaso portrait escaping from a Salvador Dali landscape Nothing was real, I had never come close to hallucinating this hard. I trembled and forced myself to head back to my sanctuary feeling like I was stepping on feathered mattresses repeating “that wasn’t you. That wasn’t you” as my Mantra.
“Shit man, I gotta get a hold of myself here and start enjoying this again. Where the fuck is Popeye and shit?” 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, only 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.
TBC

Ran out of life but not out of time

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Behind the sparkle
Light grows dim

Under the smile
Dark and grim

Run out of verve
But not out of time

Hard day by day
Towing the line

Don’t let them see it
Don’t let them stare

Turn on a floodlight
Hide from the glare

Condition and acceptance
Its what they expect

When everything’s gone
You’re left with respect

A wink and a nod
Everything’s great

Time will catch up
And show you your fate

The Dinosaurs Revenge

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

dino-revenge

The sands of Arabia are the voice of the desert and hold ancient stories of life and love amongst the pebbles of mysterious lands. The mighty Arabian wind picks up fragments of the desert floor and scatters them about to remind the grains of gravel that the songs of the wind are far more powerful than the tales of the sand. The Arabian wind boasts of songs at a time when the desert was merely an ocean floor unable to speak or even hear the songs which were sung in the land of Pangaea when the giant dinosaurs ruled the world. The desert however is unimpressed by such singing for it has mystical tales of hidden treasures, flying carpets, and camels being passed through the eye of a needle. Stories so rich in legend that can be told for a thousand and one nights without repeating a single tale. Being the voice of the desert it speaks directly to the men and women who walk its hot dry paths and explains to them how they should live their lives. That’s power! But the wind speaks only to those who understand the language of the universe and its stories travel far beyond Scheherazade. The wind claims to have been the only entity to have heard the songs and cries of the dinosaur, sad soliloquies of betrayal and deception which ended their world dominion, a song which ends in revenge, for their demise was ushered in to make room for the intelligent future rulers of the earth, humans. Humans who would one day inherit their curse, the curse of fossilized petroleum.
Petroleum responsible for the gallons of blood spilled along the desert carpets in battles to have dominion of the liquid gold, a liquid that would one day be so concentric to human survival millions would die chasing ownership of it. The dinosaurs curse is songs of ships sailing upon mirages and sinking in the sands of time. Men who claimed this cursed oil in the name of their Gods, be it by the scimitar of Mohamed or the sword of Abraham. Death would fell men by the score in an attempt to exchange that blood for oil and the wars would continue to curse humans until they bring about their own mass destruction. Oil, the curse of the dinosaur destroying their eternity.
The dead carcasses of the dinosaurs would ensure the fates of humanity. It was no accident that humans discovered the remains of the giant scaled creatures could be converted into energy that was destiny. Being human accepting it a fate wa not enough, humans had to know everything about the animals. For many years human assumed the dinosaurs to be big dumb clumsy creatures but now scientists and paleontologist believe many dinosaurs to possessed more than a low level of intelligence. Since the resurgence of dino-interest studies have gone much deeper into the social lives of these gargantuan lizards. They have correctly identified the Theropoda bipedal dinosaur to have above average intelligence with the ability to perhaps have evolved human like brains had they not been vanquished. What they haven’t yet discovered is that dinosaurs had a complex system of communication that rivals any human form. They were able to communicate not only with each other, but with the creator of the life on Earth, Gemna. In fact it was Gemna from the planet Lekiel who first planted the message in the DNA strands of all living creatures of the Triassic period. A coded message that has survived billions of years and millions of mutations and still exits in all living things today. Finding and decoding that message may be the only thing that saves us from the Dinosaurs Revenge.

NEXT:
Pangaea, Just Another Day In Paradise

Have I Got A Deal For You

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

business_shark_1

Come In He Said I’ll Give You, Tax Shelter From The Storm

Man he’s such a hater, a smiling alligator, lawyer and a traitor, financial masturbator

He offered tea, a smile a nod
a promise in his pocket
Then he shook my hand in faith
And I just let him lock it

A knife inside his three piece
The handle sleek and black
razors edge with venom spit
He plunged it in my back

Man he’s such a hater, a smiling alligator, lawyer and a traitor, financial masturbator

In uniform of camouflage
Men’s Warehouse off the rack
In his hand a pen of lies
Papers by the stack

Sign three times, one initial
Shoulda had my doubt
Never dreamed a smiling friend
Would ever sell me out

Man he’s such a hater, a smiling alligator, lawyer and a traitor, financial masturbator

Last Day At Windows On The World

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

a window

Smell ya later

Working at Windows on the World was the most awesome experience I ever had in the restaurant industry. Fast paced and crazy during service but the waitresses were gorgeous. In fact the waiters were gorgeous too, most of waitstaff were Bohemians. The war between the front and back of the house was non existent because the expeditor was a buffer between the two factions and took shit from all sides. The pace of service was so intense we never really had time to build up animosity anyway. But nothing in my career has ever compared to the camaraderie in the kitchen.
Eight cooks on the hot line, four in the pantry, an a dozen or so prepping, and about sixty workers in the kitchen at any given moment. In the kitchen we spent what little quiet time laughing and getting to know each other better. It was like a damn fraternity. For four hours of service we were all we had to rely on, we all had each others backs. We snuck extra chef coats to each other, beers, joints, whatever. We got high after service and met for drinks before heading out to our homes or wherever we went. We became extremely tight nit.
The thing that I remember most was my last day there. They have this cute little ritual they perform for the people that leave that they love. And I was well loved, the hippie cook who played the harmonica into the expediters microphone, made everyone recognize the moment of silence for John Lennon during the global memorial at his death, and the teller of numerous jokes and puns that kept them chuckling for hours. So I was destined for their ritual which to be honest made me happy despite what the ritual consisted of.
In the back of the kitchen were three huge cauldron kettles for soups and the like. Considering we served over a thousand people a night the kettles had to be big. For the last day of any coworker they loved they reserve the largest kettle on the end filling it with an array of obnoxious liquids. Outdated fish stock, outdated eggs, vinegars, wines, anything they could find to make a disgusting smelly bath to dip the departing warrior in on his last day. My last day!
When the shift ended I knew it was coming because I had seen it before. Some fight like hell and end up getting bruised up, some try to sneak away before anyone grabs them, and some, like me, take it as a sign of love and a sort of torch passing. I passed by that kettle two or three times and I gotta say they really went all out for me. Stunk like rotted skunk anal glands, ripe with overripe vegetables, fish guts, and many things I decided were better not to try and identify. This was going to be one gnarly shit bath and I am going to be stinking for days.

My time came, and my coworkers grabbed me and dunked me like four times, worse than Ollie Dee from March of The Wooden Soldiers. I kicked a little and made a big scene out of it but in truth I went in it willingly rather than fighting a losing battle with ten ornery line cooks. Besides I wanted them to have as great a memory of my last day as I would. A lasting memory, although mine would have an added lasting effect of carrying around an odiferous array of decayed and rotted stenches for the next day or three. I came out dripping with gross puddles of digestive waste. Needless to say I gave them all hippie hugs which they tried in vain to escape always happy to share. I always shared my weed and beers with them so I felt it only proper to share my nefarious lingering funkfest of stink.

What I hadn’t considered was my trek home. Even after washing and changing into my street clothes the elevator ride down 106 floors had people congregating as far away from me as possible, and at least two women gagged at the fetid aroma. I was like a walking silent but deadly rank fart after an evening of beer and eggs. I had visions of a visible stench trailing behind me like a stink shadow. Everything in my wake gasped for air. Everywhere I went people turned to look at me shooting me snarly looks. I had no dog to blame and it was clear I was the epicenter of the situate of smell. I stopped in The Market Bar on the ground floor for my last drink with the crew and the bartender asked me to leave. From there I got on the E train to take the subway up to midtown. I felt like Pigpen from Peanuts as people moved to the other end of the car. Finally I decided to ride the subway in between cars hoping the wind would remove some of the foul smelling carousel around me.

But the aroma offended any in its path, even me. Its not like when you let one slip out and wonder why everyone holds there nose because being the owner of the fart, the one who dealt it, the smell never quite seems as bad. But this odiferous cloud of decayed matter clung to me as if it would never let go even offending me. My olfactory senses were forming an official protest threatening to impeach me if I didn’t shower and scrub with entire bar of Irish Spring and then douse every inch of my body in cologne. If I hadn’t gagged six times already from the stink stream I would have been offended but I knew I was about to take the advice willingly.

When I walked through the door I was greeted as I was every night, with the most enthusiastically happy hound on earth, my Afghan Hound, Stella Blue. No matter what kind of day she had she was always overwhelmingly happy to see me and shower me with canine affection. Unfortunately not one second after jumping up on me her ultra sensitive nose began twitching and I know dogs are not supposed to register emotion but there was serious disappointment in her eyes as she stared at me, shook her ears back an forth and ran the other way. Into the shower I went before any further embarrassment. I decided I needed to burn the clothes and I showered four times in a row. I then marinate myself in so much cologne I could have driven a taxi. It took me three days to completely eliminate that dark cloud of revolting essence of BO emanating from my body, and while the “O” finally skulked away the memories of Windows On The World has never faded. Stella finally got her groove back and forgave me, and the ten dozen or so flies that followed me home that night have since relocated. All in all being dunked in a kettle of decomposed shit water was like a dis-initiation imparting not just the squalid stink but a memory of a lifetime to always take with me for surviving that intensely hot and brutally fast paced kitchen, and if my memory serves me correct I loved every stinking second of it……PEACE

Snow White and The Seven Habits of Highly Ineffective Dwarfs

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

snow

Once upon a time, there was a fantastic opening line for storytelling. A brilliant line in which you could use to begin a story and introduce the main character, be it a queen, a prince, a witch, a beautiful young women, or even three little pigs. From there you could then begin adding whatever elements help you to spin your yarn, be it spinning yarn or spinning straw into gold, poisoning apples, candy houses, gingerbread men, or any metaphor for life you use as your icon to express your points. The brothers Grimm were expert at this having woven a plethora of subliminal tales that kept the young ones starry eyed and motionless awaiting the end.
One story in particular has infiltrated our culture assaulting our values having us accept an unmarried young lady living with seven diamond mining miscreant males deep in the woods. If a young lady today admitted to living with seven dwarfs she would likely be telling the story on her reality television show. Come to think of it, the dwarfs somewhat resemble a much tinier version of the crew of Duck Dynasty. Here comes Snowy Boo Boo and the bayou backwoods jokers. Who are these seven dwarfs anyway? The truth is Snow White has a book deal in the works and has officially chosen The Existential Baker to prepare the press release.
Hers is a story of the consummate underdog overcoming all the odds and poor advice to remain atop the world of Fairy Tales. Snow is perhaps the most loved and popular fairy tale heroines of all time. Mary had her little lambs, Belle had her beast, Red had her wolf grandma, Ariel her voice, and Gldilocks had her choice of porridge, but none had to struggle as hard to remain an icon. Quite frankly when it came to giving advice, the little legends sucked.
.Having been given the name Snow White was the real curse. She was forced to live her life giving everyone the impression she is as pure as the driven snow when in fact murky slush is a better description. And worse than that she had to deal with Queen bitch on wheels. The mean queen gazes constantly into her mirror making duck faces and taking selfies when she notices a few new wrinkles one day. The celeb gossip paper, The Daily Mirror posts a story of how much younger and prettier Snow is so she hires a duck hunter to cut out Snows heart. The duck hunter realizes its rabbit season so he fakes her death brining back the heart of an alligator or something and the queen thinks she is back on top of the pretty polls. Discovering the hunters deceptive practice the queen has a fit, kills him then poisons Snow. Snow enters into a coma at the Dwarfs crib ( what happened during those days is an upcoming tell all written by Doc) and stays that way until a full grown dude, a prince or something slips her the tongue effectively waking her from the coma, and the perfect ending, they live happily ever after.
Snow tells a different story, one of bumbling and mistakes that could have been avoided had she not been under the care of the seven ineffective Dwarfs and she is finally ready to expose them not as helpful concerned garden gnomes, but the bumbling mini clods they really are. It’s a self help book designed to assist anyone in need avoid having themselves thrown headfirst into a coma awaiting a necrophiliac prince to come and kiss them. At one point or another each of the dwarfs has a golden opportunity to avoid the painful tribulation. Here’s a synopsis of her story.

Independence

Bashful’s unpopular advice . “Be reactive not proactive Snow, wait until something happens before you get ahead of yourself. Just always have the fan point away from you so when the shit really hits it won’t get all over you. You know the witch has done bad things to others but how can you know what she will do until it happens? Could be in a piece of fruit, could be a dart, or maybe she is just gonna roofie you at the bar. Worrying about it won’t get you anywhere, wait until she makes her move, then we can plan a counter attack. Besides, that way you won’t have to go out into any social situations where you need to meet knew people.”
Dopey’s dope advice. “Begin at the beginning not with the end in mind. Puff a bowl before you do anything so you won’t need a plan or to be organized. Don’t waste your time worrying about the end game, you may never even need it.Just get high and make sure theres lots of munchies around. Being proactive is like a belt made of watches, nothing but a waist of time.
Sleepy’s alarming advice. “No need to assign any priorities to anything. Best thing to do when your worried about stuff is to sleep on it, don’t do anything until you’ve had a good nights sleep and a couple of naps. Sleeping never hurt anyone, you don‘t lose when you snooze you get more when you snore! Just don’t forget to set your false alarm clock.”
Inter-dependence

Grumpy’s begrudging advice. “Who cares about a solution? Win-win? Balderdash, poppycock, bullshit! The only one who should win is me. But do I ever win? No! So the hell with everyone else, just look out for numero uno sister.

Sneezy’s nasal advice. This is my feeling, and its nothing to sneeze at Snow. When she tries to talk don‘t listen to what she has to say, drown out her words with a big sneeze. A few snot droplets does wonders in getting someone’s attention. Then you don’t have to hear them whine or anything. You don’t need to seek to understand, she has nothing to offer, unless she has like a box of tissues.

Happy’s stoner advice. Synergize my ass Snow. You need to like energize with a re bull and a blunt. You want people to work with you and get stuff done get them high and give them some Red Bulls, then they’ll like do whatever you want. They’ll even…..Oh man I forgot what I was saying. Anyway Snow everyone likes some good weed, to get, ah, to get, um, I forget again, but whatever, just light one up and you’ll have everyone on your side and like ready to help or something. Oh yea, and bring pizza man, everyone loves pizza.

Finally Doc gives his professional opinion. “ Let me fill you out a prescription. What do you want some pain killers? I’ll hook you up with some percocet, that should help. Sharpen the saw my dear, you never know when you may need to build stuff.

So you see Snow has quite a tale to tell, a story of what should have been a painless succes free of coma’s and necrophiliac orgies. Because of the habits of her ineffective Dwarfs she dealt with much peril and many hardships. Be sure to look for Snow’s follow up sequel called “Show Me The Monkey”. It promise to be full of salacious tales of the groups secret life in the forest. Also soon to be released is Doc’s new tell all. The Magnificent Seven ride again. High ho high ho its into bed they go. Big things come from men with small packages. …Peace

Sexual In Your Window

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

sexendo

“Dad, what does sexual in your window mean?” Not a question I was prepared to answer my four year old because part of me wanted nothing to do with a conversation involving sexual innuendo with my daughter and the other part, that premature, I mean immature part of me wanted to make a joke about sex, stalking, and peeping Toms. But the question was asked and I had to attempt to explain it. Other questions followed as she grew up like the one that nearly caused me to drive off the road after she inquired what “Dad, what does eff you” mean? She even lifted her middle finger to extenuate the inquiry on our way to kindergarten. Or the time a few years later when she wanted to know why everyone was mad at President Clinton for doing oral sex with Lewis Insky. That one took some serious thinking because it was on the news hourly. Anyway, here’s how NOT to explain sexual innuendo to a child.

Sexual innuendo, double entendres or just sex puns. The more you play with it the bigger it gets so think long and hard before entering. Once you rise to the occasion you can go deeper and deeper into it. I try not to use sexual innuendos much because using them incorrectly can make you go down, and then its not easy to get it up again. Just about anything you pull out of your vocabulary can hint at one sexual practice or another. Something as normal as wood becomes a solid morning image and if its not standing tall its hard to beat. We use wood to erect structures and if a woman is looking for it you can give her the lumber and she’ll crack a smile. It can get downright indecent which is to say is if its long enough, hard enough, and deep enough, its in decent.
Maybe its because we have so many nicknames for our sex organs. Penis, dick, prick, cock, wiener, boner, and these are just some the ones that can be ‘slipped in’ a normal conversation. I grabbed the thorn bush and pricked myself. If I fold it over I will be half cocked. I like my wiener on nice soft buns and so do my buddy’s Dick Hertz and Hugh Jerkoff. On one hand you could have the member and in the other the shaft, its stiff competition between the two. Its easy to make a boner.
The vajay jay is no different. Vagina, pussy, snatch, twat, slit, box. The pussy cat slit the box with her claw to snatch the magic prize. The lady garden cream pie has been compared to a beaver, kitty, love pie, love tunnel, and a poon whatever the hell that is. The nether regions get explored with a cave dwelling love stick in search of a happy humping with an exciting climax. With so many slang terms for the various sex acts and the tools used to perform them its near impossible not to cum across an innuendo.
Basically I try not to give a bang to innuendos because on the hole they take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’ but they often slip out and you could get screwed in the end. I can’t put my finger on it but most of us have our minds in the gutter and like it there. A man and woman like to get something straight between them and they can do that by acting on whatever pops up.

Sex is in our face all the time sometime even sitting on it. We use sexual sport analogies, I got to second base then went in for the score. My bat was raised and her glove was open. Touchdown! In food, what she needs is a hot beef injection, maybe I should give her my sausage. I’m so hungry I could eat at the “Y”, maybe have a bearded clam or fur lined taco. Automotive, give her a lube job with my dipstick, that’ll grease my nuts. We are constantly pre-occupied with sex. Even the technical explanation of why we laugh at sex jokes is suggestive. What comes off our tongues is processed in our pre frontal cortex and the laugh cums in and out of the temporal lobe. We love getting it on and from what I hear men think about doing it every sex seconds while it takes a women sixty nine. No wonder everything we hear can relate back to sex.

A common vulgar sexual term is fuck. Popular misconception is it came from Fornication Under Consent of King, or Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, and while an entertaining bit of trivia the truth is it a derivative of some dudes name, John Fukker. But that doesn’t stop us from fucking an sucking our way into a multitude of sneaky ways to get it in a conversation. Getting laid, the old in and out, screwing, humping, banging, poking, shagging, or other acts like going down on, sucking off, polishing the helmet, giving head, eating out, jacking off, and on an on. There must be fifty ways to fuck your lover. We love double in tenders and in your endo’s.
So I will try to keep you abreast of innuendos and entendres without making you feel the boob. I usually put out on the first date because I’m loose. I prefer it tight but I’ll take it anyway I can get it. It will help me if you respond to my explorations because I do have a big ego but I prefer to not stroke my own. I like having it stroked for me. If you’re up for it we can enter a discussion but I suck at them and I get licked in debates. Then I end up with it all over my face. Hope I laid it out for you in a way will stand up in court……..Piece, I mean PEACE

Open Your Eyes

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

alex

Fight Club, DC rules
Are you a republican or democrat? Oh Tea party? I get it, I get it, don’t take away your guns, get rid of gay people, and stop the handouts because everyone on welfare is lazy. Oh yea, I love the chastity belt, where’d you get it, Lord and Taylor? Oh I’m sorry, did you say its a faction of republican or republican’t? What’s that, an independent “no bullshit politics” believer. Love Jesse’s boa by the way, very stylish. Hopefully it will help him win the gay vote. So how long have you been a moderate? Staunch democrat? Cool, can I borrow a few bucks, I’m a little under employed at the moment.
WTF is up with all these political party fixations and all the fighting, don‘t politicians know the first rule of the fight club? Why does everyone who claims to belong to a political party feel a need to jump on every bandwagon the leader of their party feels will hurt the other party? I feel no obligation to any particular political party because not a one of them have all the answers. You can fool some of the people some of the time but if you lead a republican to gun control he won’t drink an drop of common sense. A democrat in the hand has the other hand in your wallet. There must be some sanity somewhere.
I registered as a liberal back in the 70’s in part because they embraced many of my beliefs and in part because I knew it would piss off my Dad. And it sure did, I endured constant lecturing about how dumb a move that was. That’s because my Dad was a staunch republican’t. He went so far as to vote for Barry Goldwater but that’s Goldwater under the bridge. The demo-cats out of the bag now, I belong to the Liberal party. But that’s in name only because as I understood it I needed to register as something in order to vote, and I wanted to vote. I believed my vote mattered, that it counted. I guess that was the liberal idealism in me.
If smaller government meant less politicos I would be for that in a second, but by smaller government they mean less federally mandated programs. I believe in everyone getting a fair shake, I was taught “share share that’s fair” which I in turn taught my children, and I believe we need to have some specific guidelines to live by. I don’t trust many people to play by fair rules because the game today isn’t the age old its not if you win or lose but how you play the game, its how badly can you defeat everyone else so you can take more than your fair share. As a rule if Trump is against something I’ll be for it, an if he’s for something I’ll be against it, because he represents what’s gone wrong with capitalism. Greed. How much is too much? No limit for the greedy, all they want is more. And then they want tax breaks on top of it. The ones who can afford it the easiest want what I refer to as corporate welfare, because its still a handout even if you don’t need it. Greed leads to corruption and maybe eventually anarchy.
Anarchy is good in theory, do whatever you want whenever you want but what if there were no traffic lights? Imagine how many accidents there would be? And how could anyone run a business if people could just walk in and take what they want. Unfortunately we are way beyond being able to successfully adapt the honor system as a society. The bottom line is we can’t trust each state to work together, as in the “United States” because too many states want unfair advantage and bigger government means they may have to share. Big government doesn’t mean more congress people, it means more rules and regulations to ensure all the states play nice.
So time maybe to abandon a total democrat or total republican view, maybe its time we as “the people” need to stop fighting with each other and begin compromising. The word wars between party enthusiasts is downright hateful, filled with untruths, out and out lies, and twisted views being hot out from news outlets. Maybe even subliminal. And its all the outlets, not far left lamestream media or right wing fair and unbalanced anger oriented made for TV news lies. Stop listening to hate driven opinions from television and research stories yourself. Because if we aren’t willing to listen to each other we have no right to blame congress, they get their strength from our blind faith, which should remain nothing more than an awesome rock band. ..Peace