Tag: existentialism

A Hunting I Won’t Go

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dead-jerry-rifle

Any Time The Hunter Gets Captured By The game

If I had to hunt for my food I would starve. My whole family would starve because the closest I ever came to capturing a meal was the time I dropped a can of Pringles and chased it down a hill. Perhaps it’s a morality thing, I mean its not like I’m a flatulent oozing vegetarian I love a good steak, but I don’t need to see it slaughtered. I’m still haunted by the one time I had to chose my own lobster only to have it sentenced to death and served to me with a plastic bib on. Why a lobster would wear a plastic bib is anybody’s guess, but back to the point. At the time I couldn’t help thinking what a shit I was for pointing out an innocent lobster to have it sent mercilessly to its death to satisfy my eating urges. One of those things that just kind of stays with you from childhood through older childhood.
Basically I’m saying I’m anti-hunting. I get that some people feel the need to sneak up on and slaughter animals because they have antlers but personally I don’t get it. I‘m not just being a tree hugging liberal about it, although I have hugged my share of tree‘s, but I walked the walked before talking this talk. That’s right, this peacenik hippie freak has walked the wild hills of Loch Sheldrake NY, up in the Catskill mountains, with a loaded rifle in his hand and lived to tell about it. I had mentally prepared myself to use it before leaving, but by the end of the weekend I was mentally prepared to use it on the drunken rifle toting deer killers. How does a long haired hippie freak in a bright colored ski sweater end up hunting wild animals you ask? A trade off.
I had forged a friendship with a dude my age at work named George. George was an avid hunter, going into the hills stealthily in camouflage during bow and arrow season only to return a week later with heat seeking shotgun shells for the opening of gun hunting season. He had been soliciting me for a week to come and join him as I stood my ground until one day he proposed an offer hard to refuse. “JT seriously dude, hunting is the best thing ever. There is nothing like it.” Now that I took as a challenge. Being a confirmed Deadhead I knew for a fact the actual quote is “There is nothing like a Grateful Dead Concert” and I let him know that in no uncertain terms. His response caught me off guard. “I tell you what, I’ll go to one of your Grateful Dead concerts if you come with me next week.” Hmmm, another challenge. I have brought four people already to their first Dead shows and have made for converts. If I go hunting next week it will force him to go to a show and he will also try weed for the first time. Irresistible offer. “Cool”
So it was set that next week I would travel up into the mountains with a loaded weapon in my hands and as a consolation prize turn a friend on to The Dead and get him stoned. For my part I went out and bought a few magazines, Field and Stream, Outdoor Life, and Sports Afield to get myself familiar with all the latest on hunting protocols. What I learned only made me think I was making a huge mistake. But a deals a deal so I called George to find out what to bring. “Just make sure you dress in bright clothes, warm and in layers, and don’t wear that deer musk cologne you use.” Got it! “Okay, and its not cologne, its patchouli oil. But okay, I won’t bring it. I’ll be ready.” I went through my clothes noting a black leather jacket would not be appropriate and opted for a bright red yellow and blue ski sweater and of course layers. Off we went.
The plan was to drive up Friday night and stay at a motel in town, get up early an hit out into the forest is search of some helpless animals to brutally slay. Back in the seventies drinking responsibly meant wearing a seatbelt while guzzling so we drank a few beers on the way up. By the time we got to the motel the only thing we were sporting was a slight buzz. But the bar at the motel took care of that. It was like some kind of frat party or something, a ton and a half of guys getting drunk and doing shots. Pool table, jukebox, all the comforts of a local dive bar. Guys kept coming over to buy George a drink, and when he introduced me bought one for me as well. I’m not a carpenter but I got hammered that night. 2AM and I still had 2 coasters in front of me so we did two shots of Jack Daniels and called it a night. Tomorrow is the big day, the first day of hunting season and I can only assume the only advantage the deer will have is all of us having killer hangovers.
When I finally shook off all the fog from last nights alcohol I realized that all the guys I was watching head out into the woods were the same guys that were so smashed last night. And every last one of them had a bright orange vest, bright orange skullcap, and at least three quarter of them had orange pants as well. Either this was a prison break or hunters wear a lot of orange. All except me of course, who was in the height of winter style with my fleece lined red Nordic ski hat and my bright multi color stylish ski sweater looking like Jean-Claude Killy leaving the slopes of the alps to join a group of murderous hungover Orangemen into the Catskills. That was when the paranoia began to settle in, and I had gone from fierce hunter to frightened sheep following the crowd in two seconds. George sensed my apprehension and led me to a spot halfway down a mountain, “You stay here JT and if you see a deer shoot it. I’ll be around seeing if I can spook one out” He left and I was alone wondering what I will do once I really do see a deer. I kept thinking about Bambi and I decided I better not look the animal in the eye or there I no way I’ll shoot. The opportunity never came up, although I did see a cute bear cub off in the distance, and I watched a group of beavers working in the stream. Dam they were good!
George came back and collected me for lunch. We went back to the bar at the motel to get some chili con carne and when we walked in half the crew from last night were there and drinking already. The paranoia quickly returned as I listened to them talk about a kill, a shot, or something called a “sound shot” George came over with the chili, “You okay JT?” “Yeah I’m okay, little cold and I wish I had something orange to wear. By the way George, that dude over there was talking about ‘nuthin but a sound shot‘. What’s a sound shot?” George looked a tad concerned, “When you don’t actually see the animal but you hear it making a sound.” I was floored. Holy shit, what if I was sounding like a deer? I ate my chili in silence but all I could think about was these drunken fools taking sound shots after lunch.
The rest of the trip was uneventful and I basically hid in the woods trying not to sound like a deer. Along with the other hunters we got drunk at night and they kept talking about how they will “sacrifice the animal” if they have a decent shot. Luckily the weather took a bad turn and it was snowing too hard to hunt effectively. George got off one shot but missed but I never even raised the rifle to my shoulder once. I was okay with that. I said I would try hunting, knew it was not for me but found out I was understating how wrong much it wasn‘t for me. To this day I have never killed another animal, and I never plan to kill one. I eat meat, I’ll even eat venison, although I think its bullshit they call them deer when they kill (or sacrifice) it but venison when they eat it, but I guess it eases their conscience after slaughtering an unarmed animal. I did take George to a Grateful Dead concert and got him stoned, and he had a great time but didn’t convert. He was and always will be a “Rolling Stones Guy” but as long as he digs it that’s cool. He did smoke weed with me a lot more after that so I did make a bit of progress. I lost touch with George, as is usually does life got in the way and we both moved on and I’m sure he still hunts and that’s okay, because I still indulge in my passions as well. I used to wonder what I would have done if I was face with the opportunity to shoot an animal, would I have taken the shot. But as time has passed I have come to realize there is no way I would have pulled the trigger. I’m proud of that fact but in the end if I couldn’t buy food I’d be dead and wouldn’t be here to write these twisted stories. It is what it is…..PEACE

Still Rock And Roll To Me

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DeadTopper

Rocktober is here. That’s what we call it here in the northeast, partially because we so love our rock and roll, and partially because we want a distraction to the oncoming brutality winter can dole out. Radio stations play tapes from pre-recorded live shows, or repackage their programming to appear as if it were different than usual. But real rockers won’t waste our time listening to bullshit radio stations that pose as hip intuits of rock, we know the DJ’s today are just corporate sponsors who may have once been cool, but have sold out to commercialistic radio bent on repeating songs so often it makes our inner ears drip blood. But hell who cares about that we know our rock and we have things like Pandora, Spotify, and iTunes, and even many of us hippie have given in and replaced our once bulky milk crates of music libraries onto tiny little ipods with killer earbuds. We choose our music.
So true rockers listen to FM radio only as an alternative to having no soundtrack whatsoever for life. We play what we want on ipods and/or CD players. Because rock and roll is central to our existence. The last two weeks have been extremely stressful and trying for me, and at times I had lost my Zen. And like David Banner would say, don’t make me lose my Zen, you won’t like me when I lose my Zen. But it happens and self medicating is not an option during the workday.
Luckily a friend of mine who often burns me CD’s for me stopped by two day’s ago with 4 new disks of sweet rock and roll because he understands how profound a gift of music is. He knows what music reaches me and that’s what be burned, my favorite tunes live at familiar venues from my crazy party days. Yesterday I had to o a lot of running around so I spun 2 of those discs while driving and erranding and the music was so soothing. Rock is comfort food for the ears and the soul. The car filled up with not only incredible sound, but with memories and good feeling, and most important, a shitload of Zen. Whether it was an uplifting fast tune that got me bopping, or a bluesy and easy tune that held my ego and id in check, it just soothed my soul and removed the stress. That’s what music can so for us.
So today I have a message, not like the ones coming out of area 51, or the one Moses had sent over his tablet, but one from a humble servant of rock and roll. The message here is this, if you lose your Zen remember, it can always be found in rock and roll music because rock and roll never forgets. Thank you Rick Verso, a brother, kindred spirit, and friend for life. Rock on Y’all. Listen to the music play

Tale Of The Tapes (Fly on the wall tells all)

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fly-on-the-wall-print

I…Sticky Lips Sink Ships

I swear sometimes its like they don’t even know I exist. Well that’s fine with me because my Dad always told me its better to keep your mandibles shut and be considered a fool than to make some buzzing noise and remove all doubt. Besides, with those new fangled fly swatters and bug zappers my species has been taking a huge hit in the census reports. I prefer to just sit on the wall and quietly listen to these humans ramble on about all their petty nonsense. Interesting surroundings here I must say, much too clean for this flies taste with not even a crumb or juice spill for me nibble on, but I am in The White House and this is The Oval Office so its only a matter of time until I come across a big pile of bullshit.
I’m not exactly sure how I ended up being a fly on the wall in the Oval Office but the last thing I do remember was sleeping at a bar in a hotel nice and warm all snug in the hidden hairs region of a women that picked me up in a bar. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm vulvic pubic bed. I had just flown in from Boston and boy were my wings tired! Destiny had been drinking when some dude started hitting on her. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere with my soft hair snuggle mattress . He said his name was George and he claimed he was a powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any honey tonight, at least not from Destiny. I got the feeling the asshole was married and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong. I never woke up from any of the tussling and troddling but damn if when I finally did wake up if I didn’t find myself here in the Oval Office stuck not in destiny’s coochie cot but in a thick and sticky mustache belonging to George, who it turns out is better known in Washington circles as G. Gordon Liddy.
G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch, even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass liprug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He makes puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Well listen to my tale as I play the taped conversation and you’ll get what I mean.
“George, did you read what those Godless bastards at the Times wrote about me last night?” George started rubbing his lip which is what caused me to relocate to the west wall. “Dick, I’m telling you, some sonava bitch is leaking stories to those damn reporters and they want to print whatever they can to discredit The Whitehouse. What you need is an experienced, um, plumber, a plumber like me to find the leaks and eliminate them.” Nixon was clearly angry and interested, “Your right George, those pricks are out to destroy me, to take me down. Every chance they get The post, The Times, those pricks Severid and Reasoner, they’re all trying to screw Richard Nixon. Let me tell you George Richard Nixon will not be taken down by some liberal atheist commie shithead. What’d you have in mind?” George shuffled a little as Richard stared out the window. “Look, I have a source who tells me the Pentagon Papers were released by someone working for General McNamara. I have a name. The sonova bitch copied classified files and now wants to leak them for his own agenda. There’s something I want to try. This asshole goes to a psychiatrist and I’m going to liberate the files of this ratfink bastard from the shrinks office for proof. Then we’ll nail his communist ass to the fucking wall! No one will believe a word he says. Listen, I know a few guys from the organization I can still trust, and with me as their chief I’ll find him and any other scumbag commie leaker and get rid of them all. You’ll never be implicated in anything, It’ll be my operation and I’ll run it. Of course I’ll keep you informed but this will give you plausible deniability.” Nixon smiled, “Plausible deniability? I love it George, okay lets go with that. You head up my group, the Whitehouse plumbers.” George was one of those control freaks who need to assert his dominance and replied, “Operation Odessa Mr. President, in here we can be called the plumbers but officially we’re Odessa, part of the Committee To Reelect the President. I’m gonna get my guys together and I’ll report to you in two days. I already have my lead and he’ll be the first sonava bitch to go.” Nixon shook Georges hand and said, “No names George, not yet. These prick liberals are trying to ruin me, ya know? They want to bring own America, become commies and make it normal for our kids to be homos. I don’t think they even believe in God. You bring me some results and I’ll make sure you get rewarded.” George shook Dicks hand, “My reward will be serving you Mr. President, just leave things to me. I have the way to deal with the unpatriotic hippies. I’ll get rid of all your problems Dick.” George left and Dick opened a drawer of his desk picked up a microphone and softly spoke, “G. Gordon Liddy and President Richard Milhous Nixon, June 18th 1971.” and closed the drawer. Hmmm, odd these humans, they seem to secretly tape record conversations. I wonder why?
To Be Continued

How To Start A Universe

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COSMO AND THE GARDEN EARTH
(A guide to cosmic gardening)

PART 1. NOT JUST DUST IN THE WIND

Where should I begin? In the beginning God created the heaven and earth? I think that one is taken but why are we here? Some say in the beginning there was a vast empty space, a nothing vacuum in nowhere until a bunch of atoms spontaneously appeared and took to flying around everywhere (or nowhere depending on your view) when suddenly two overly aggressive atoms collided causing a huge explosion. Spontaneous combustion. The Big Bang! Yea, right! First nothing and nowhere then all of a sudden a Universe so huge it has no end. Wait, hold on, even better, first there was nothing and then the one and only god created shit to keep him from being bored. Spent six days building it then chilled for a few million years. A massive universe with one teeny weenie little speck where he created the supreme lifeforce, human beings that looked just like him, to rule over everything. First nothing then one man, one women, an apple and a snake. Now that’s even funnier! As a matter of fact both of these stories are a source of great humor and hilarity and the butt of many jokes at The Board of Co-operative Gods and Goddesses out in District seven. At any decent cosmic cocktail party you’ll hear no less than a hundred jokes about various theories of how life came to be in any of the life gardens but the Earth stories are by far the most numerous. The “monkey trials” keep gods and goddesses laughing for hours on end at inter-galactic get togethers. There’s not a god worth his sodium chloride that hasn’t heard of Darwin, Moses, Jesus, Mohamed, Elijah. Or the Talmud, Koran, The Bible or even The Upanishads. Stories of a pure evil horned devil with blood dripping from its hands and fear bolts being shot from its eyes keep them rolling in the anti-matter with tears of laughter. Satan, Lucifer, Serpent of Evil, Beelzebub, so many knee slapping names for the antichrist. Oh yes, the earthlings grown by Cosmo are a source of great amusement to all the gods. All the gods? Am I saying there really are many gods? Does a pope defecate in the woods? Is a Polar Bear catholic? Can white bears jump? Of course there are many gods, and many galaxies supporting forms of life. Did you really think you were the only living beings in the entire universe? Jeez, and I thought Wookies were dumb. Well sit back you Vader naysayer and let me tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Well maybe a fabrication or two along the way because YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!
In the beginning, Once upon a time, at the outset, none of these phrases apply because life is a cycle with no beginning and no end. There has just always been many gods and goddesses with varying responsibilities. Gods an goddesses perform certain tasks or serve a particular purpose. Some create wind and motion to make global gardens spin, some enforce the law of gravity, some create laws of physics to apply differently in different area‘s, and the brightest gods ponder deeply the laws of the universe and how they should be applied. These are the most intelligent gods and goddesses and they held court to make decisions about everything. It is still known today as The Board of Co-operative Gods and Goddesses. (BOCGG) They made the decisions that effected the farmer gods who were expected to grow and experiment with the various galaxies across the universe. Each galaxy was tended to by its own god. There was great and clever Simon in the Tolkien Galaxy, Mychrighton in the Andromeda Strain Galaxy, The red haired beauty Lucille who watched over the Bobaloo Galaxy, Luke-ass who presided over The infamous Jedi Galaxy that was far far away, and so on. Here in our Milky Way galaxy, the farmer was and is the god Cosmo. Such a good farmer is Cosmo that they named the entirety of space after him. The vast space of the universe came to be known as “The Cosmos”. Travel was known as Cosmic travel, knowledge as cosmic knowledge and any left out odds and ends in space became known as Cosmic debris. Hey there brother, I’m not jiving you bout that Cosmic debris! Cosmo is indeed an accomplished cosmic gardener, in fact he is somewhat of a legend among the other gods. In Solar system 728KJ he had cultivated nine grooving spinning garden orbs he called planets. From the tiny and excruciatingly hot mercury, to the equally tiny but totally frozen Neptune he tended to all nine magnificently. Like the giant Jupiter (which for some reason had red eye in all the family photo’s) with an assortment of moons, and the ill advised named Uranus (No need to tell you the jokes at The District with this one) . He put some cool looking bangle bracelets around the lovely and mysterious Saturn, and named two of the planets after his own Mom and Dad. The entire universe was touched at the naming of Venus and Mars. Yes Cosmo had really taken pride in that particular solar system. But his pride and joy and claim to fame is most assuredly for his work done on one particular planet, known throughout cosmos as garden earth. Garden earth is a rather insignificant looking planet in solar system 728KJ. It is the third planet from Sun 728, and has the benefit of the perfect amount of sunshine. Earth also has a considerable amount of water on it which is the other essential ingredient in growing things. Sun and Water in abundance makes for a smashing garden. Cosmo wants to make planet earth, in solar system 728KJ the most prolific and successful garden in all the universe. With a vast ocean to create clouds which would in turn drop water back into the garden a system of synergetic energy is created. Cosmic irrigation! Garden earth is a thriving ever-growing populace world. A wide variety of vegetation and many roaming creatures inhabit the garden.
But what you see on garden earth today is not how it was at the beginning so put on your seat belt as we travel back in time to see how this all came to be The Planet Earth. Catastrophic is the best way to describe his first attempt. Maybe he wasn’t mature enough or maybe like a fool he just rushed in but either way it’s a story that is told and retold as far away as Gabor40904 which is about eight billion gazillion gamma light years away. To you that would be a mere two point five septillion miles give or take. At any rate here is what happened in Cosmo’s first attempt.

Arch Of knowledge

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books

I recently baked an array of cupcakes for a wedding, in which one of the husbands to be is a writer and the other an avid reader. The mother of one of the lucky couple built this arch for them for their ceremony made out of books from the family bookcase, something that if done many years from now may well be an arch made from kindles and Nooks. But it’s a marvelous statement on reading and writing and hopefully will serve as an inspiration for authors to continue their quests to reach out and express. I love this arch because like our lives, it more stories than the Empire State Building. I truly hope their stories for the future are filled with happiness and wonder. Reading is FUNdamental Write on!!!!!

Be a good Girl an Shake your Pom Poms, leave the real games to the boys

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Girls soccer team, the Lumberton Wildcats, playing soccer

No Athletic supporters for girls

A sure sign of autumn is a field of young aspiring athletes in full football gear banging helmets and shoulder pads, while being protected by shin pads and that ever present gonad guarder the jockstrap, or as its referred to in mixed company, the athletic supporter. The boys need to protect the area that houses the swimming team of aspiring sperm cells hoping to be the future generation. So on with the sumo wrestler looking undergarment with that little cup offering assurance that if they play their cards right, someday they will be watching their own little boys wearing a protective supporter. But that’s not the support the boys get that is so overwhelming to me, it’s the support of the Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters that make a social event out of football practice. Lawn chairs, camera’s on tripods, and cheering families are in full force at the sport field in my area. The young lads perform admirably for their audience who are yelling and cheering, running up to get snacks at the concessions stand, and exhibiting their support for the boys. And that was just a practice! I witnessed this as I attempted to take my daily walk with my wife around the track that circles the fields.
The time comes in life when you decide its time to take your health serious, and I am hoping its not too little too late, but eating right and exercise have become more of a priority. When weather permits we go to a track a block and a half away which until recently was used by softball teams with a modicum of supporting casts. A beautiful new track that encircles a huge field, enough for two baseball games or a football and soccer game simultaneously. The track is about one third a mile so six spins gives us a two mile trek an great workout. Every once in a while we need to pass some slower people, or get passed by runners, and occasionally a child watching the game gets in the way, but its rare and a peaceful unobscured walk for the most part. That is until football started.
The first day of football practice we arrived at the track all stretched out and ready to hoof it for a two mile power walk. The level of noise on the way down to the track betrayed the fact that a lot of people were there, but not sure in what capacity. To our dismay when we arrived it was way more than just a lot, it was an over abundance. Two football teams, pee wee and teens, and two cheerleader squad practices were on the field and scattered all around the track were family members and what seemed like every relative of every child in town. It wasn’t a football practice it was a suburban social gathering of ginourmous proportions, way bigger than a PTO or town hall meeting combined. At first it was sorta uplifting, to see such a family oriented gathering watching their youngsters ready to compete in a sporting capacity. And it would have been awesome if only the families had a smidgen of consideration for other people. Unmovable congregations of not bratty teens, but moronic grown ups acting like teens. Bad enough they wouldn’t even consider moving in the slightest to allow others easy passage, but the moronic parents were seemingly unaware of what their kids were up to. Toddlers to pre teens running wildly, on scooters and skateboards not looking at anything, bouncing off other spectators like silver pinballs in the pinball machine. The walk around the track had turned into an obstacle course. No les then three kids blindly ran right into me and when I turned to tell their parent I couldn’t find them. The kids were totally unattended. Hello people, its not babysitting its parenting, and while I appreciate your proud that your chip off the old block makes you proud pounding the shit out of other players, you have other kids too. But then I looked closer, and half (liberally) of the males weren’t watching neither the kids nor the practice. What were they watching? Guess. No I don’t mean you should guess, I mean they were watching a woman wearing a tight Guess tee shirt, anmd they weren’t looking up at her eyes. This bullshit went on for three evenings straight, until Saturday. So what happened Saturday?

The girls took the field the Saturday to begin their season of women soccer. I have no doubt they wear some type of physical supporter, perhaps to protect their mammary glands for a similar reason as the jocks, and hopefully something that also offers them some protection from collisions on the field. What was glaringly absent was the support the boys experienced from the families. No family gatherings with Grandma an Grandpa in tow, no picture taking, no cougars hunting or tongue tied wolf Dads, no screaming and shouting, not much of anything. But let me tell you the girls played with every bit as much heart and determination even without a cheering section, or even a section. The praise, anger, or assurances of their coach was all they received.
I recently saw Billie Jean King in an in interview and apparently PBS made American Masters of her life and accomplishments. In case you don’t know who she is, she played tennis back in 1973 and has quite a resume of winning awards, but what she was most notable for back in the day was her competition against Bobby Riggs, a male tennis player who whether for show or for real acted the quintessential male chauvinist pig. He trash talked her into a showdown billed as “The Battle of The Sexes” and drew incredible attention. She beat Riggs decisively and struck a major blow against misogyny and for women’s rights including equal pay for men and women’s tennis tournaments. But deeper than that, she opened up the eyes and minds of a huge amount of males and helped make many male converts for the Women’s Lib movement. Maybe it should be required viewing in school because it seems our society needs a slap upside the head as a reminder that women are as important as men in all walks of life, including the male dominated genre sports.
Every time I find a young man or woman that are exceptional thinkers I feel like humanity is headed in the right direction. But too often it seems more like a huge step back into Neanderthal mentality with way more people working out to build their muscles in gym, and way too few building the most important muscle in the library. Too much emphasis is put on how we look and not nearly enough on how we think and that’s depressing enough, but if we are going to place so much emphasis on sports lets at least keep it on a level playing field. Truth told this existentialist would be happy without any sporting events because the fans are just too out of control but that’s a rant for another day. Today’s rant is about giving the ladies the same amount of support on and off the field as we do our boys. They play their hearts out, they work hard and they don’t quit. I get it, football is somehow more impressive and brings in money so its smart to spend money protecting their futures with a strap and a cup, but when it comes to making the effort merely to cheer the girls the families fall way short of athletic supporters.

Transcendental Medication, episode 2…Nothing From Nothing Leaves Nothing

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20120728155311!Escher's_Relativity

Previously on Transcendental Medication:

Nothing is the absence of anything. Anything is something so nothing must be something if its anything. Wait, how can there be nothing if anything can be nothing making nothing something? If its something then there can be no true nothing because the minute you name it nothing it becomes something. Man this shit is so confusing.

Brimming with optimistic vibes I went to see Dr. Khandro, a Tibetan acupuncturist at The Shambala Clinic in the basement of his Tibetan Holistic Center, or THC as its known around town. Dr. Khandro was a rather short man dressed more like a monk than a doctor, but he was Buddhist after all so I assumed that was the norm.

I gently pulled at the opening and it separated easy allowing my entire hand, then my arm into this ether realm. The feeling was nothing I had ever felt before. I just knew something special was here in this bizarre minimalist space. I looked through the hole which by now had grown much larger. In that other realm was smoke, but not a noxious smoke, more like an almost friendly and enticing smoke. The thought of sticking my entire head through the hole pulled at me. Then Kha’s voice spoke, “Come in JT, you have found nothing.”

I thought about what I had just heard, that I had found nothing and was confused. Not even sure if this is real or if I’m in some altered state but this nothing sure feels like something. Was I subjected to sensory depravation without my consent? I stepped inside cautiously wondering if my mind was playing some elaborate trick on me as payback for all the years of brain bending drug and alcohol abuses I leveled at it. I decided to test him warily, “So you say this is nothing Dr Kha? But once I acknowledge nothing doesn’t it become something. How can this be nothing if it is something? I know what nothing is, its what poor people have and rich people need.” I looked up and Kha smiled at me in a near condescending way but I took it as more of his acting the teacher. His voice was steady and even, “That funny JT, heard it before. Yes, and if you eat it for too long you dead. Nothing funny about that, haha. JT you search too hard for nothing as thing but nothing is concept, not thing. Suppose I tell you nobody get here before you JT? By your logic if nobody get here first then nobody must be somebody, because nobody was here. So I speak of nothing in philosophic term. Nothing is a void or vacuum where everything come from. But in science nothing cannot exist because we are always surrounded by matter. Perhaps in black hole nothing exists, perhaps everything exist, impossible to know. So how get something from nothing? Listen JT, the first organism of life was one singular cell which split into two, and that continue until mutations occur. Over millions of years those mutations become an abundance of life forms each with its own story. But it all come from nothing, just as the universe has. But let me speak in language that universal and absolute. I speak of mathematic language, same everywhere. What nothing? In math nothing represented with zero. Zero represent nothing because many year ago human use round chip as money. They count money in and but when all money gone nothing left but big O’s in sand” He took out a piece of paper and drew a big ole goose egg on it. “So this 0 here represent zero. Zero equal nothing. Now if I tear apart 0 it would be split much like the organism I mentioned and nothing become two something.” He ripped the paper in half to make his point. He scribbled a simple equation on one half of the paper, (1) + (-1) = 0. He smiled at me almost triumphantly and said, “Split evenly JT nothing equal two something, a positive one and a negative one. Same thing happen when universe created out of nothing. First there nothing, zero, then zero split into two portions, positive one, what you know as Universe, and negative one, the one we are in now, alternate Universe. Newton figure concept out but never appry to creation. For every action there is equal but opposite re-action. This alternate universe you are in now is the opposite and equal re-action to your big bang universe you just leave. This Universe equal to your universe onwny opposite. The laws of physic opposite. Here there no gravity. Pranets push off each other like opposing magnets. The suns don’t give energy they extract it. Time very different here go backward not future. Here future is pat and past is future, but much beauty and wonder as universe you know. Alternate universe as real as your universe but it take some getting used to if you want to be here. And nothing is what make this second world possible. That enough for one day JT, you come back in two days if you want learn more.” With that Kha disappeared as I slipped back from behind the bi-universal curtain returning to my cot in my real world and closed my eyes.
I could still smell smoldering Santal incense and the music was still on only now it was soft drum beatings mixed with some sort of whirling organ sound softly playing repetitive chords. A young woman entered the room wearing a nurse uniform. I began to wonder if this has all been one crazy hallucination, maybe a flashback or something so I gave her a closer look. She was very attractive with piercing hazel green eyes and long straight black hair tied up neatly in a swinging ponytail but allowing perfectly cut bangs to cover her forehead. Her eyes were as stunning as a Montana sky and just as vast. I sensed both intense pain and intense pleasure in the depth of her retinas and I melted into her glance. Mesmerized I heard a soothing throaty voice saying, “You’re finished for today Mr. Hilltop, will you be coming back for another visit?” Her bright red lips barely moved as she spoke making it hard for me to concentrate. She caught me staring at her eyes and I have little doubt my leer was bordering on creepy but I couldn’t look away. I was held hostage by her deep beauty, hypnotized with delight. I tried to look away but was drawn back to her face. The rosy red high cheekbones, full pouty lips and flawless silken skin were so warm an inviting. I imagined the sirens sweet song dominating the entire essence of Ulysses. I began clumsily shaking my head and muttered a weak “yes, I would like that.” Sensing my awkwardness she smiled warmly, took my hand and sat me up. It was then I noticed the pricks were all gone. “When would you like to come back for a session?” I was feeling disoriented and only barely able to reply “In two days” The nurse put her soft full lips close to my ear whispering, “Come back Friday at seven JT. We have much to teach you. Remember JT, nothing ventured, nothing gained.” The warmth of her breath and moist spray of her tongue inside my ear sent shivers up and down my spine and gathered in an area which I feared had become obvious. Butterflies had left my stomach and created a chrysalis caravan traveling through my digestive tract straight towards my reproductive organs. It was complicated even more profoundly her sensual and suggestive tone echoing through my soul in a tease frenzy. I looked up to sneak look at her in the hope of affirming my imagined connection but she was gone. Maybe she wasn’t even there to begin with, the line that separated reality from non-reality had become wafer thin.

Obama Plays Just The Tip

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aa

Media stations all over the country are suffering from a bad case of blue reels. Reels and reels of potential video tape footage filled with dreams of screwing Obama. Yes POTUS has gotten his missile standing straight up ready to enter deep into Syria’s labial regions and give news media outfits everywhere a giant orgasm. Fox, CNN, MSNBC, and countless other news organizations that ironically don’t count had shaved their legs and shined them up with sexy graphics of “Obama sends the big one into Syria”
Doe Obama oblige and thrust with all his might into the depths of the middle east causing massive an explosive orgasms? Hell no, Obama plays just the tip, entering enough to get the media outlets wet and moaning in anticipation of a full strike only to leave them hornier than ever and completely unsatisfied never reaching their big story climax.
You would think the news would be happy that a peaceful solution may be found and unnecessary and unwanted death and destruction avoided, but they have a ba case of blue reel now and want someone to screw and they don’t really care at this point who shoves a story up their news alley and frankly they don’t care who they get it from. They don’t want any more foreplay, what they want is a long and hard story that will tickle their libido. Hope they all get the Shaft!

PRIMORDIAL BRAIN STEW

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Space-Oddity

Thoughts On The Evolution Of Revolution The Leading Cause Of Sleep Pollution

Not sure where I’m going with this yet cuz it’s a work in progress but there’s a new thought bouncing around this cauldron of a disjointed and sometimes warped thought container that prevents me from indulging my desire to enter my nocturnal trance. My insomnia is also a work in progress defined as “a chronic sleep disorder characterized by inability to suspend consciousness allowing the mind and body to restore.” Wow, sounds so much worse when I read it back. Whatever. I define it as having mind numbing bullshit stuck in my head that keeps me from sleeping at night. What sort of devious subject matter can force me into mentally pacing the floor while dredging up uneeded concerns with global implications? War.
War is a fact of life. It even precedes the tribes of Cro-Magnon beings raiding other tribes for food. (and of course sex). For humans however, since those bloody disagreements wars have been fought for a variety of reasons. Arbitrary and imaginary lines of property ownership, imaginary kingdoms or beings (gods), or someone’s greed, jealousy, and/or revenge. Why do we war? A primordial power struggle to determine the alpha male? An architectural power struggle to dermine who has the largest erection. A states desire to improve its citizens lifestyles by dominating and owning someone else’s? Are we pre-destined to war just to establish dominance, to have dominion over all others? It does seem that way with the military of various countries engaging in penis waving contests. Wave a flag, wave a penis, same thing. An attempt to prove that our cannons are bigger than their cannons and our missiles stand higher than their puny little projectiles. Many believe war determines who best to control the world while others believe its is necessary to control population and economic stability.
This existentialist believes that our innate need for war isn’t just about insecure governments in pissing contests but that it’ a necessary facet for the survival and natural progression of our species. A necessity of evolution. Part of the evolutionary cycle which forces us into a new environment giving us reason to blaze trails of the seemingly impossible. To boldly go where no species has gone before. Just like when our water dwelling ancestors left the security of the ocean to brave a new existence on land so long ago. Those brave gill breathing creatures that first ventured out and evolved fins into legs an arms, and gills into lungs. Not some cheesy mutation like the Creature From The Black Lagoon but much more spectacular creature that would evolve into millions of other land dwellers.
In the beginning there was just a bare ocean begging for life but over time a combination of coincidences happened forming an organism. Out of the primordial stew life was born. A single cell organism which duplicated itself over and over. Natures first cloning experiment. Somewhere along the line one organism broke out of the code of duplicate single cell life-forms and mutated. The result was a two celled organism just itching to mutate some more. Variety, the splice of life. More mutations occurred and suddenly, well not suddenly more like over the course of millions of years, the ocean was filled with all kinds of mutated multi-celled organisms of various size and shape all vying for their chance to rule the water-world. What do these organisms need to survive? Water, food, and procreation. So the mutations adapted in glorious and phenomenal ways to reach the main goal, survival of the species. Some evolved into faster and larger organisms, and developed appendages for better hunting abilities. The rule of life was born, survival of the fittest The smaller organisms became prey and were forced into shallow water where they were safer. The oversized large fuckers couldn’t get that close to shore so the shorelines became a haven for the small and disenfranchised. Unfortunately the shallow waters soon got over run with runts with tiny fins and dorsal envy so food became scarce. Then the very first organism bravely left the water in search of a better life. More and more species adapted to breathing air and the appendages became used for locomotion. New survival strategies were forged as these species evolved in their brave new world. All kinds of strategies for hunting, hiding, defenses, and protecting the propagation of their species. Strategies of ensuring the survival of their young became a challenge so land strategies were formed from laying hundreds of eggs, to burying eggs, all the way up to having eggs hatch in utero when the species had only one or two offspring and needed to protect it from predators until gestation. All sorts of adaptations were formed in attempt to continue living.
Fast forward to dinosaurs who were too big and clumsy and just fucked up all the vegetation. A random asteroid knocked the shit out of everything and newer and smaller species survived and evolved from slug, to monkey, to human. Now the earth is once again becoming overrun and our natural resources are in danger of disappearing. What better way for the self proclaimed owners of earth to thin the crowd than to legally kill off a lot of weaker humans. So war kills off the poor and the weak leaving more food and room for those fucking alpha’s. Don’t hold your breath waiting for the meek to inherit this shit, they don’t want it.
That’s the kind of shit that keeps me up at night. Pondering deep questions like war and evolution. It also leads to some shit dreams, not the cool one that leave you all “What in the fuck was that all about” in the morning. Instead I lay awake troubled whether or not wars and overpopulation are tools of evolution designed to force us out of this comfort zone called earth and on to other planets.
The conclusion I arrived at after a number of sleepless nights is war is necessary and natural. Not to worry I’m still a hippie pacifist and I’m against war, I merely view it differently these days. If we are going to continue as a species we need to get off our asses and go to infinity and beyond! That’s the true and practical purpose war serves, thinning out the population sure, but it will force us to expand our explorations with great abandon to have a suitable planet on which to survive. Someday all those weapons of mass destruction will be fuel sources of mass migration and our lungs may evolve to breath carbon dioxide, our bodies to function free from gravitational requirement. That would be heavy! The explosive nature of our inventions will be used to propel us into space instead of into oblivion. Man I wish I would be around to see that day. And as always its science that will lead the way. It was my love of science that brought me to this conclusions. The science of microbiology.
So what’s been keeping me awake many nights is something that can’t even be seen with the naked eye. Not even the scantily clad eye can catch a glimpse of these micro-organisms. Sometimes its the tiniest of things can be the deadliest and bring down the most powerful of giants. A war is waged from the moment you are born and will continue long after you die right inside your body on a battlefield you need a microscope to view. You have a fully staffed army of billions and billions of anti-body troops poised to engage in war to protect you from microbial massacre. And those microbes are just as determined to end your reign of existence and become food for them to feed their starving families. Damn man, as if knowing tiny spiders crawl in my mouth while I snore isn’t bad enough, now I lose sleep knowing those diminutive demons may be a vehicle for something even smaller, more deadly and after viewing what bacteria look like under a microscope, by far much creepier than the meek arachnids…..Sleep well

American Idle

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alex

Video Killed The Civil Rights Dream

I was raised to believe that hard work and determination will reward me with success. Bullshit! Those days are long gone, the rules have changed. The workplace isn’t the arena for making big bucks nowadays unless you can wrestle up a sexual harassment suit from HR. Legal manipulation is the easiest path to the top today. Anything but hard work man, that shits for suckers.
Think you got what it takes to make it in music? Don’t bust your ass playing in low income gigs and performing all week long. Get yourself on a competition game show. Can you whistle happy birthday through your nose? Fuck yea baby, that’s good enough to get you on a talent challenge. Fuck the winning prize money what you want is to get noticed. Be an asshole or a bitch and they’ll come looking to sign you up for or a new show. All you need do today is be a character and sell your shitty self absorbed personality. We’ll pay for it because Barnum was wrong, there isn’t a sucker born every minute suckers multiply by the second when they watch reality TV. Just check out the prime time TV listings and choose where you fit in. A backwoods idiot, white trash toddler, a catty rich housewife or mob or rap star wife, bad girl, crazy masochist boy, Jersey Shore loser, the list goes on. Apparently our lives are so boring we’ve become desperate to peek in on the lives of losers who live in constant drama or are such assholes they command our attention.
I don’t know, maybe we just want to know that there are bigger assholes in this world than us. I must admit when I’m driving I’m often guilty of this. If the person in front of me pulls an asshole move I feel compelled to stare inside their car as I pass. Almost as if I need to see exactly what an asshole driver looks like so I can avoid looking like one myself. Or perhaps I need to be able to recognize the facial features of idiot driver o I can avoid them off the road as well.
But whatever it is the American television viewing public seems transfixed on other peoples lives whether its watching them get drunk and act stupid, have a meltdown in public, trash talk their BFF’s, or just be out of place billionaires like the ones that made their fortune making duck calls. I watched that one for five minutes and I’ve had a recurring nightmare of being chased in a swamp by living chia pet people. But that’s what the people want, so that’s what the networks give them
As for me I have more than enough stress and drama in my own life to want to see someone else go through theirs. I‘m much more comfortable with serial killers, crooked cops, and horny doctors and interns. But creative stories with actual professional actors is more costly and a lot more work so the networks are more than happy to bring you bullshit competitions and real life drama they insist are unscripted.
Sit com? Here’s an idea for a new sitcom, a stereotype of an idiot male, a stereotype of a suburban wife, a gay family member, a minority thrown in for laughs, and a precocious little kid. Put them in situations so bizarre it couldn’t happen in anyone lifetime, allow some mispronunciation of words, let the male do something stupid while the female get pissed. In the end the buffoon of a husband can do something that makes everyone go “awwwww” because for a dope its so thoughtful, and you have a sit com. Maybe not original but it works. In comedy these days its one size fits all, no room for intelligent comedies anymore, moronic is what sells.
The funny thing is all the while the same viewers are constantly complaining about how much coverage celebrities get when they fuck up. Look at Lindsay Lohan, more well know from her antics in public than any of her movies. Amanda Bynes, Kardashians, Charlie Sheen, anyone who screws up in real life gets away with all kinds of shit. Whenever they get the coverage people seem outraged that they make news. Hello!! It wouldn’t be news if people didn’t pay attention so stop paying attention.
When I was a kid the TV was called an idiot box, or boob tube because watching for hours drained us of our capacity for critical thinking or cognitive thought. Now the kids that were transfixed by the pixilated screen are the ones creating this boring and irrelevant television. The boob part of boob tube is how much boob showing they can get away with the deterioration of the programming in general is idiotic. I truly hope the up and coming generation can somehow get away from the bullshit that has become modern TV, and pay attention to what the fuck is going on in the world, because its their world. When people talk about my era, the 60’s, it consistent with drugs, and riots, war, and dissonance. What’s forgotten is the cosmic language we all spoke back then, the language of hope. It wasn’t only King who has a dream, we all did, and if anything I seriously hope the young generation watches the stories surrounding the 50th anniversary of the single most important moment in civil rights history and learn…..PEACE