Making A Banshee Scream Using Only A Cupcake

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The Cupcake That Made A Banshee Scream

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

Post Papal Blues

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

The sins of the father

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

Potsink Diaries

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

A French Fry By Any Other Name

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

Cosmo and The Garden Earth, an excerpt

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

The Oz Ultimatum, part II

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

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

Fractured Tales of The Bible

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

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

Cosmo an the Garden Earth

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The Meade Plus was doing its job well. Cosmo was feeling as happy as if he had had some mushroom juice. He felt the happy but as well as the happy he was also feeling unusually strong, especially in his god loin region. He had a sensation that his all his muscles had gotten bigger, but especially that pleasure muscle that hangs between his legs. Time now to experience the attributes of some of the new god toys
New god toys was code for a breed of lady gods that are specifically bred to help satisfy a gods sexual senses. For the Goddesses they had goddess toys as no god could possibly satisfy a Lady Lords near insatiable sexual appetite. Like everything else both gods and goddesses have a strong and fervent desire for sex and a seemingly unending performance need. Unlike non-gods, they can not only last as much as 8 hours straight, they can enjoy as many as 12 partners in a row, or even at the same time. Their sexual prowess goes beyond anything any intelligent species could ever even imagine let alone perform. So new “god toys” were indeed a special treat and this new batch would be no exception.
No sooner did Cosmo and Simon get into the playroom when already the zippers of their trousers came down. As one would expect the extremely large Simon was well endowed in every area of his body. A slightly too audible gasp was heard by the first god toy that touched his play tool. Cosmo couldn’t help but look over and the appendage was so huge even he blushed. “Oh my Creator man that thing is too big. You will break the new toys as surely as I stand here in envy.” But Simon was paying him no mind and had already taken 3 toys off to ravage and enjoy. He carried on over each shoulder while the third clung tightly to his oak tree thigh holding on to the joy handle with both hands. Simon disappeared into a private room and it instantaneously filled with screams, squeals, and a chorus of “Holy Shit that thing is enormous”. Cosmo had only one single god toy caressing his much less imposing yet still impressive love muscle. The god toy looked up and was struck by Cosmo’s good looks. He has an angular well defined face with a nose that seemed to be chiseled in place perfectly. His long dark black hair rolled over his broad shoulders in layered waves. Unlike Simon there was not a single ounce of excess body fat on his well defined muscular body. His chest puffed out proudly on its own and had just enough hair on it .Hi arms were like argon filled balloons. He ha a smile was every bit as engaging as Simons without a trace of the gregariousness. The god toy spoke to him. “My but you are handsome, you are by far the best looking and easiest to look at god I have ever seen. I can tell I am truly going to enjoy this assignment.” Cosmo flashed her a smile so alluring she made a soft purring sound. The second he looked at her fuscia pink eyes he knew he wanted her to be exclusive. She had tight blue and green corkscrew curls that formed bangs above the sexy eyes and her head was framed perfectly with platinum hair in the shape of a crescent. The tips that disappeared under her chin were ebony dark black. A sight to behold. Of course her body was bred so close to perfection it didn’t seem fair to other females. Long muscular legs with perfectly proportioned hips. He pulled her hand away from his crotch and scooped her up in his strong arms. “Then lets get a private room and begin enjoying each other.” The god toy smiled as it was the first and quite possibly last time a god would treat her so tenderly. “Have you a name young maiden? Mine is Cosmo, but I prefer to be called Coz.” God toy looked up and said “They named me Ginger, but my real Name is Mary Anne.” Cosmo smiled another winner, “Ah that’s great, I think I like Mary Anne more than Ginger. I shall refer to you as Mary Anne and request you for the entire night.” Mary Anne blushed at the thought of being an exclusive. “Are you sure you don’t want a few others Mr. Coz?” Cosmo stared at her with eyes so filled with lust and passion it would have melted the butter clear through the refrigerator door. “First of all Mary Anne, its not Mr., but just Coz, and second, I prefer to concentrate all my enjoyment on the most beautiful maid and you are by far the hottest babe in The District. And its not the Meade Plus talking.” While he was talking Cosmo, I mean Coz began to unbutton her blouse. He reached inside and cupped her smooth and delicate lady lumps paying extra attention to the nipple. He inched his lips towards her at a teasingly slow rate and her eyes burned with desire. When he clamped his warm lips over her soft full lips their tongues exploded in a furious search. Wrapped around each other the tongues danced and twisted to a passion rhythm. She arched her hips and Cosmo pressed his groin into hers. He could feel her loin shudder beneath her skirt and was well aware of how his touch had rendered her helpless. A shit storm of physical pleasure was about to explode between her legs and Mary Anne was quite willing to set the charge. Her hips swayed rhythmically anticipating the take off of Cosmo’s missile. T minus ten, nine, eight, and within seconds the rockets red glare disappeared deep inside of Mary Anne. Her lips adorned in bright red gloss parted slightly and a sensual hum snuck out and hung in the air like giant cloud. Her large dark eyes now focused with intent directed at satisfying Coz for the next 9 hours without stop.
During the nine hours of bliss no less than eight god toys had gone in and out, pun intended, of Simons room and each lasted no more than two hours before being replaced. The squeals were non stop and Simon cold be heard roaring with delight on several occasions. By contrast, Coz had only one toy, just the very lovely Mary Anne the entire time, but the squeals and roars were every bit as ferocious and ten times as meaningful. The noticeable difference was that Coz’s roars and Mary Anne’s screams had a tenderness and order to them. When Cosmo had finally exhausted his final lust thrust everything was filled. Coz was filled with pleasure, the room was filled of the smells of nine straight hours of love making, and Mary was filled with a massive amount of god seamen. So much had Cosmo come inside Mary Anne that every time she sneezed a handful of microscopic god sperm snuck out into the night for a moonlight walk. Conceiving child is somewhat of an occupational hazard for god toys. It isn’t common but it does happen, and like most gods Cosmo refused to use a hefty bag. The thought of pregnancy crossed his mind but by the time it got to the other side it was forgotten. Pregnancy wasn’t able to cross Mary Anne’s mind, at least not for the moment. The nine hours was normal for Cosmo but it had taken quite a toll on Mary Anne. Physically exhausted, her curly platinum blond hair was tussled and matted and sat like an eagles nest above her head. The tight blue and green curls all but gave up curling and lay as limp as Mary Anne herself. She stared up at the ceiling as if still stunned by an amazing dream. The smile on her face would make Simons best smile hang its head in defeat. Her smile was immobile, sitting on her facer on its own accord because Mary lacked any energy. Even as Cosmo got up to leave and thanked her the happy glossed over orbs remained fixed on the ceiling. Unable to move, the smile unwilling to leave, she laid there in bed as Coz kissed her gently on the forehead and told her he would never forget her. It’ possible she nodded or shuddered a thank you, but if she did it was imperceptible to the naked eye. Or the naked anything else for that matter. Cosmo wrapped on Simons door and yelled out “Good bye old friend, until next time.” Perhaps it went unheard, or perhaps Simon was in a position that prohibited response, but the squeals continued albeit with less than half the enthusiasm shown earlier. It was time to get some sleep and pick up his intelligence seeds the next morn. There was much to be done. As Cosmo left the room he heard a barely perceptible moan that sounded like “mmmmm so fucking good, so fucking good, thank you Cosmo, thank god. mmmm” There was something else in the air, something Cosmo could not recognize. It almost felt as though someone else was in the room.

Confessions of An Expanded Mind

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Because I have frequent flyer miles when it come to mind expanding practices I am often asked to talk to kids about drugs. They want me to tell them how drugs ruin lives and destroy dreams. The truth is I did a lot of drugs over the years and I have seen lives destroyed an dreams shattered because of drug abuse, but its not the drug itself it’s the abuse. Not a very popular thing to say but I never wanted to be an anti-drug ambassador. Many times I enjoyed doing drugs. That’s too vague, I enjoyed smoking pot and hash, I enjoyed a few barbiturates once or twice (no, not a day!) , and some hallucinogens. I learned very quickly that its all about moderation and using common sense. I think it was in a Carlos Castenada book I learned “Never let the drug control you. If you are not in control and the drug is its time to stop immediately.” I still feel very strongly that weed should be legal and it is ridiculously hypocritical of the government to choose for us which form of recreational relaxation is allowed. Of course they allow alcohol for two reasons, one because its such a monumental money maker, an two because the first time they attempted to take it away the population went friggen berserk. But I could ramble on for hours about this subject and quite frankly its an easy argument intellectually, but a losing battle with a government built on the power hunger of the christian right. That’s not my subject either, although I am always up for a good battle with organized religions. No, what I want to focus on today makes me very unpopular with “responsible parents”, but quite the opposite with former, present and future users of hallucinogens.
LSD, peyote, mescaline, magic mushrooms, psilocybin, orange sunshine, blue cheer, barrels, all kinds of different psychedelic drugs. They were used as experiments for mind control by the CIA an other head in ass organizations looking for world dominance. They hoped to control minds and create assassins with plausible deniability for the government. What they got was a set of hippie Guru’s like Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey (author One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nests and leader of the “Merry Pranksters”), and Bear Owsley who manufactured the LSD that turned on nine tenths of San Francisco and ignited a hallucinatory craze. I myself have indulged in the use of these mind benders, and here is my confession.
I was all of 16 the first time I tripped, and it was on the legendary “Purple Owsley”, the acid that was rumored to have been used by the artists at the Monterey Pop Festival. Well Fuckin’ A man, if this shit was good enough for Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, then you bet you’re a the EB was willing to give it a taste. I’ll try just about anything. Twice if I’m not sure I liked it or not. So I dropped the LSD. This shit takes just over an hour to kick in and after only 30 minutes we were complaining that we didn’t feel anything. What a disappointment. About 40 minutes later I aw something from the corner of my eye. Wait, what? I just aw a tree bend over and kiss the ground. My head felt funny, like it wasn’t mine. I thought my cranium had cracked and my grey matter was spilling out to have a look for itself. I was in a cartoon. Now IO began to worry, I mean they drop anvils on your head in those fuckers. But no Wile E. Coyote, or Yosemite Sam, it was cartoonish but not like fake. Maybe more like I was posing in a landscape picture for Salvador Dali. The tree’s and the people were still there, same color, just kind of melty. I noticed that the blades of grass. I mean I NOTICED the blades of grass. I could see the fibourous hair sticking out and I thought, holy shit, I never realized how beautiful they are. Or the tree’s or anything. Everything was just beautiful, full of detail normally unnoticed. Colors were alive and singing. It was visually stunning. I placed my han in front of my face and after a short period more fingers began sprouting until it looked like I had ten fingers. That may not sound unusual, but I was only holding up one hand. The sounds were equally as amazing and I could sense guitar strings vibrating as the music played. I could feel the music inside of me. The whole trip lasted about six hours and I squealed with laughter as I aw funny in everything, I marveled at the incredible sights and sounds that had been there every day, but not really felt. It was amazing, an I knew right away it would not be my last trip.
It wasn’t my last, I took many more trips on various hallucinogens. What I noticed most about the trips was that they showed me how things really are, not just how they appear. That’s also why I wanted to stop. It was getting to a point where I was liking less and less people because the drug revealed the inner persons and many of them I didn’t like. Suddenly I became suspicious of everyone, as if their ulterior motives were showing through. The last straw was the night I id 3 hits of Blue Cheer. I was living at home with my folks and had been grounded on a weekend that promised to be one of the best party weekend of the year. My rebel spirit is what told me to do 3 hits of what a normal person would do only one of. That’ll show em! Well it started out as usual, feeling really happy and digging the music when I got up to use the bathroom. A I turned to leave there was a full length mirror and the sight of myself caught me off guard Around my right eye was two yellow circles of like war paint, and around the right side of my lips outline in black war paint. The left side was the opposite, black around the eyes andd yellow around the lips. I mae the big trippers mistake. I stared at myself. Suddenly I went from Dali to Picasso as my facial features took turns moving around my face. I began to fear that I would stay that way cuz my Mom warned me not to make faces. I got very paranoid, my brother came home and I hid a sandwich I was eating. I still don’t know why I stashed a bologna sandwich but for some reason I believed it contraband. Anyway, after hallucinating images I made up in my head and sweating it out for five hours I decided that was my last trip. Unless of course I’m dying. My son knows that if ever they bring around hospice he should load me up with a little of everything he can get his hands on.
So I won’t advocate drug use but nor will I judge. If you choose to take drugs educate yourself on them as many can be very dangerous, and like Carlo said, never let a drug control you. I don’t trip anymore and I confess I took more than I should have, but truth be told it was a major part of opening up my creative soul and permitting me to be more open minded on everything. The trips allowed me to flourish creating culinary delights, and hopefully drawing on that mind expanding experiences I hope it will allow me to find my creative soul in writing, both a blog, short stories, and The Great American Novel I have vested about 200 pages in so far. I have faith in the youth that they will find their way, making mistakes along the way, and finding their own creative legs. Judging from some of the blogs I’ve read here I have no doubt…Get inspired, stay inspired, and make sure you give your imagination plenty of exercise…………………………PEACE

Memoirs of a Hippie Chef..(Leave the shit spreading to the landscapers and get you ass back in the kitchen!)

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Put Down That Rake And Get Back In The Kitchen

The clanging of pots and pans as they jockeyed for position on the stove, plates being pulled and stacked from the dishwasher. The air was full with the smells of a variety of vegetables and wafts of a large pot of chicken infused liquid hoping to one day soon become a soup. And the sounds were the familiar frantic sounds that I remembered before service began at the old restaurant. It was crunch time in the kitchen of this nursing home and I was so taken by the memories of being a cook. I just blurted out to the Nurse trying to run the kitchen “Can I help? I know a bit about food.” Without even a smile a very attractive Jamaican woman in a nurses uniform yelled “I need zeese onions peeled and cut, tink you could a’handle dat?” Nary a word needed to be spoken as I rushed over to the table with the onions, grabbed a familiar feeling knife and pulled out a cutting board. In a matter of minutes I had peeled, cored, and diced the onions. “What else do you need?” The Nurse stopped in mid stride and asked “You gotta all dem onions done?” I could tell she was doubting it so I held them up and said “Yup, where do you want them?” She smiled at me with a huge open mouth and I noticed a small gap in her front teeth. Suddenly something seemed almost sexy about her. She was in her late twenties or early thirties but very pretty. Her skin was smooth and silky and had a dark glow to it. Her dark brown eyes looked at me approvingly and she asked if I could put it in the pot on the stove. When I asked her if it was for the mirepoix I thought she was gonna run over and kiss me full on the lips. Again she flashed me that huge smile. “You do know your way around de Kitchen. My name is Maggie and yes, I need carrots and celery too. Can you hanel dat?” “That’s childs play Maggie, I’ll have it ready in no time. My name is JT.” “Zhay Tee? What kina name is dot? Ita sown like jus letter to me.” “My real name is Justin, but my friends call me JT. It seems we are friends now.” “Yes indeed it do Mr. zhay T.” I assisted Maggie in the kitchen and together we got lunch together quickly and efficiently while the rain continued to pound on the back door just begging to come in to visit the drain. Fred had left half an hour ago and said he would be back to pick me up at four. Damn it felt good to be back in a kitchen again. We ate lunch like they always do only this time apparently, Maggie joined the table instead of eating in the dining room as she normally did.
After lunch I helped clean up and then went outside as the rain had ended as abruptly as it had started. As I was surveying the yard and deciding what I should do Maggie called me from the front door of the mansion. When I got there she had another big smile and said to me “I got some good news for you Zhay. I jus talk ‘a Misser Viero an him say you cana work here wit us inside inna de kitchen and aroun’ de home alla da times.” There it was. Right there fate dangled its fickle tickle of a decision in front of me with ominous repercussions. If I say yes Fred will be mad, but if I say no I will be saying no to old man Viero. On the other hand if I say yes I have a full time job all year round and I am back in a kitchen. It really had felt awesome being in a kitchen and I could definitely see myself working with Maggie. Not to mention all the young ladies I would be working with. Okay, go ahead and mention it. I know, I know I have a girlfriend and all, but like my Mom says, “You can look at the menu as long as you remember you already ordered your entrée.” Give her credit for trying to speak restaurantese. Decision made and fate be fucked! “I would really like that Maggie.” She seemed very excited and told me I would finish out the week out in the yard with Fred and start in the nursing home next Monday. If it works out we will set up a schedule for when I was back in school. All in all, it seemed like it was nothing but gold. I didn’t remind myself that things were not always what they seemed. But that’s okay, I would find out in good time what new tricks fate had in store for me to tickle its devious funny bone.
When I got home that afternoon I called Carrie to tell her the news. She didn’t seem very excited, and I wasn’t sure if it was all the chicks I would be with or the fact that I was back in a kitchen. A few ludes and some weed after dinner would change all that bullshit. Tonight we would get fucked up, have sex, and the balance of the universe will be restored.
The week passed much quicker than I had anticipated and before I knew it I was at my new job, back in a familiar setting. I was a cook, dishwasher, server, and when not busy with food I vacuumed the carpets throughout the nursing home. I kinda dug doing that because I got to hang with the nurses aides and joke around with the patients. Even the nurses had begun to like hanging around me. Jesus shit I felt like I was fucking king shit here. The head nurse was in her forties but still something about her seemed hot and intriguing. And Maggie, well that was another story itself. It became clear very quickly that she was the one in control. Everyone feared her. Not so much feared her as it was a fear of pissing her off. She was Mr. Vireos favorite person and messing with her was like messing with the old man himself. She took a very special interest in me and it didn’t bother me in the least. As a matter of fact the closer I got to Maggie the better off I was. Maggie was the right one to have on your side and since we worked together much of the time we became fast friends. I got my kitchen responsibilities done faster and faster so I could have more time on the floor. It just never dawned on me that nurses could be such practical jokers.
One day as I was flirting with one of the aides Maggie snuck up from behind and said to me “Jhay, you afinish so faust today dot we got spayshal job for a you.” A shot of adrenalin started coursing through my central nervous system because the sound of that had an eerie similarity to “downtime.” In a sheepish voice I inquired if it was in fact downtime but Maggie assured me it was just that they needed help with an SSE. I started to feel a little relief, an SSE did not sound like it was all that horrible. But an uneasy feeling came over me when I saw the dastardly dog smiles on the nurses. “Meet us up inna Miss Lemcows room upstair. We meet you dare Jhay.”
As I walked in I began to get concerned. After all, this place was loaded with some of the most extremely senile people to ever observe the Civil War. Maybe not that old, but old enough. I was directed into the bathroom where they had poor Mrs. Lemkaugh sitting naked on the toilet. It was an embarrassing sight for me but the patient was not in control of her faculties. Not in control of other things either as I would soon find out. I tries to look away but its like a car accident, the harder I tried the more I looked. I was depresses at how depressed the old woman’s body was. Any muscles or tendons in her breasts had long ago lost any of its substance and hung like deflated balloons. Her whole body just seemed so frail and I felt very uncomfortable, a if I were violating her privacy. I guess I was but she was completely unaware of my prescience. I has to look away so I chose to focus on the alluring Jamaican woman I wa beginning to develop a crush on. In Maggie’s hand was a metal can much like a flour sifter with a red rubber hose attached to it. “Here Jhay, I need a you hole dis can up over da heyd ofa Miss Lemcow. Totally confused and wondering what the fuck was happening I must have given off the aura of wonder. The sexy forty something nurse leaned up to my ear and whispered “This your first Soap Suds Enema JT?” It took a minute for the words to sink in. I had heard all three words before, but not in the same sentence. I was holding a can of soapy water, so there’s the soap suds, but enema? I looked down at Maggie grabbing the other end of the rubber hose and in an instant it hit me. Oh my fucking god in heaven she is sticking that hose in….in..oh my fucking god in heaven she stuck the end of the hose in Mrs. Lemkaugh ass!! “Okay Flo let off de valve.” Flo, the not so sexy anymore forty something nurse, shot me a smile usually reserved for Karmic retribution. She reached up and released the valve. In an instant the can emptied its contents of soapy water and went directly to Lemkaughs ass, which in turn let go of everything it owned and was holding on so dearly to. It made the stink carousel of decayed horseshit from my old landscaping days seem like jasmine incense. I gagged as I tried desperately not to breath. At least not through my nose although inhaling that stench in my mouth did not seem an acceptable alternative. I could tell Maggie was enjoying my pain and Flo let out a chuckle. They had gotten me good on this one. “Am I done here?” After I managed to utter my request, I held my breath and very quietly offered a “Jesus shit” mantra “Of course Jayh, you canna go backs de kitchen.” With that I put down my soap suds enema can and left the room. I feared it wouldn’t be my last SSE, and my job around the nursing home was evolving a