Tag: humor

Ego Street

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ego

The sun don’t shine on ego street
Dark so bright its blinding

Thunders up and down the lane
And the paths are ever winding

If you hang out on ego street

You’ll be surrounded by the plastic

No one says what they truly feel

Admiration oozes out elastic

Only way they can feed your ego

Is fabricating calculated tribulations

Spewing words engorged with insincerity

And orating counterfeit adulations

But Homie don’t play that, much to modest

When I speak its what I really mean

Never want to be dipped in iron pyrite

Always part of a more important team

So don’t look for me down on ego street

That’s not where you’ll find me hiding

Just truck yourself down to Humble Square

Cause Baby, that’s where I’ll be residing

Epilogue:

Don’t let second hand vanity
Embezzle all your humanity
You risk losing half your sanity
Cause that shits pompous profanity

Absolute power it can seduce
Hang conceit on you like a noose
Best to keep the bragging way down loose
And not treat people so obtuse

Common courtesy should not be uncommon……. Peace

Transcendental Medication (Exploring Philosophy Through Drug Enhanced Acupuncture) E10

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change plot

Previously on Transcendental Medication
We embraced so tight, neither of us wanting to let go, my body was shaking. “Ambrosina, tell me this is all real, it has to be

I had never before understood the true meaning of unity in love but Ambrosina and I had become one person, one concept. Love is bliss, a joy expressible in words.

The shouting of my name woke me up, the familiar voice of Shea, “JT! Come on buddy, its time to go.” This time I wasn’t angry at him, I wasn’t panicked, I was okay with it, with everything. My huge smile and I walked down the mountain oblivious to our surroundings.

Changing The Plot
J.T. Hilltop

“Please relax while I remove needles JT. I take them out an we give you towel, your body very wrinkle. You in tank for long time my boy. There bed in other room, have something to eat and take nap, when you wake we talk.” I obliged willingly or not, I could barely move. The water from the tank rushed off me and I felt Kha removing the acupuncture needles. Like a zombie I got off the stand of the deprivation tank, walked into the other room and picked up a sandwich. I felt sensations similar to a hangover, but not a feel sick with pounding headache hangover, more like a mental or emotional hangover. The acupuncture had given me some hallucinations but they seemed awfully real to me. My body was certainly feeling the after effects of making love, climbing up waterfalls and such. Emotionally I feared I was in love with a vision but her touch and her words were so real. Ambrosina taught me what love is then told me I would meet her back in my own dimension. I’m not sure what she meant but I believe her, believe in her. As I attempted to sort everything out I looked over to the bed. The bed sent me an invitation so I accepted hoping to become one with the mattress. I lay on my back while reviewing my trip, or whatever the fuck it was I was on. While on some kind of island paradise I learned of love, of free will, and that my conception of time is seriously erroneous. There is a god though nothing similar to the one I was taught as a young boy, and this creator is a female perpetuating a swindle using the bible to conceal real truths, of which apparently there are only four of. Kha promised me a meeting with her to finally explain what nothing is to me. My mind went back to the times I had with Ambrosina. I smiled contentedly before falling into a deep sleep.
As I opened my eyes before I could even focus I sensed someone in the room with me. “Finerly wake up, eh JT?” I was still groggy as I stretched my body, “Yes Kha, I’m awake. But I’m also a bit confused, how much of that was real and how much was a hallucination?” Kha handed me a bottle of water, “It all real my son, it ownry seem like hallucination because it not what you used to as reality. We do again next week and then you get better understand.” He was cleverly dismissive but I pressed him, “I saw Ambrosina again, and I met Shea. They both talked about my time stream, and about the four truths. What did they mean by that?”
“My son you are a curious one, so full of question. Next week we talk of forces, or truths, but for now I tell you about time stream. Each of us have own time stream an we intersect with many other time stream. But you cannot intersect with time stream that not in your own time, like your great great grandfather. That cause big paradox for your reality. Remember time is no straight line, time is like big ball of tiny strings. Okay listen, if you view your life like a movie reel, opening credits to ending credits your life can play like a film. Remember in school when you watch a movie and the teacher played it backwards to rewind. Everyone laughed, it look really funny, but even backward everything in the movie still happen, ownry not in same order. Points of time can be manipulated but not change, everything still happen. You know JT that when you see star shooting across sky it burn out many many years ago, but ownry now you see it. Time same, happen already my son. Every life already finish maybe millions years ago, my life, your life, even Ambrosina life. Your reality, your life stream is ownry how you experience it. You get what I mean?” I gave it a few seconds to sink in, it’s a pretty radical concept that is far from anything I had ever conceived. If I’m understanding him every life has already happened, and each of us are experiencing it in real time as it applies to our point of history. “I’m not sure Kha, but I think so. Your telling me everything has already happened, many years ago like that star, but I’m watching it like a movie right now. Is that it? Doe that mean its not real then?” The old man suddenly seemed so much older, as though I had been gone for years and not hours. Have I aged as well? This is too much to process, what’s real or not real, old or young. “That close JT, but it not movie, it reality. We live in three dimension but there are many dimensions, all stacked up against each other. Like movies at video store, ownry you cannot choose which movie you watch. Movie already happen, but you see movie from start to finish. That your time stream, your history. You very curious and open minded man JT, that’s why I chose you for Transcendental Medication program. But for now I think better you consider all you have learned so far for one week. Take time to sort through, go live your life and forget about all this time stream and dimensions until next session. We have plenty time to talk about time and dimension next session.” As much as I wanted to know I also knew Kha was right, I should figure out all I’ve been through for a bit. Maybe some wine, a night out, to prepare myself for the four truths. I will meet Ambrosina again, I will meet God, then Kha will explain the four truths and the dimensions. No need to overload my fragile brain at this point. Remember what Shea said, change my plot, that’s what I’m going to do, I’m going home to figure out how I can change my plot. “You’re right Dr. Kha, I should take the time to sort things out for myself, decide how I want my plot to change.” Kha smiled but I could see a bit of confusion in his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t know about changing plot lines. That’s cool, something I know that he doesn’t. With that I felt much better, got up and left. ‘See ya next week Doc!” I sensed the wind of his head as it shook back an forth trying to figure me out. That made me smile even more.
I walked down the street with an exuberance I haven’t felt in years. Life was good, I was feeling great and in control. I can’t change the parts of the story already lived, I can’t change the final chapter, but I can alter the coming events. I can write my own history. I was literally bouncing with joy as I walked and spun around saying over and over, “I’m changing my plot” Proceeding with my head in the clouds I spun right into another person knocking them backward. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, totally my fault, are you all right?” As I reached out to help this person regain the balance I had inadvertently compromised things got even better. It was a lovely young woman. She was more than lovely, she was striking. Thick long onyx black hair in tight curls surrounded a beautiful face with high cheekbones, deep hazel eyes, and soft lips accentuated with the perfect amount of rich red lipstick. I held her by her arm, all five foot two of her. She glared at me, “What the Hell are you doing mister?” I employed my best puppy dog eyes and half smile, “I am so sorry maam, I just got some really good news and I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Her glare softened as she realized I wasn’t being an asshole perve. We locked eyes and I saw something very familiar and enticing in her eyes, “Well I hope the news was real good because you damn near knocked me over.” It wasn’t anger, more like a flirt so I jumped at the opportunity, “Oh indeed it was, I received news I would be running into a beautiful girl soon and she would accept a dinner invitation and well, here you are, and I I literally bumped in to you!” In an attempt at being coy I gave her my sexy eye look. She tilted her head glancing at me sideways with pursed lips, “seriously, does that lame line really work for you?” It wasn’t a challenge it was banter, “Truth is I never tried it before. But I am hoping it will work, so maybe if I start again. Hi, my name is JT and I’m the jerk who almost knocked you over just to say hello. I am terribly sorry and would be honored if you would allow me to make up for it by taking you to dinner.” She reached into her small purse, took out a pen and a business card flipping it over. After writing something on it she said “My name is Shay, here’s my number. Why don’t you call me tonight and We‘ll see what happens?” I accepted the card as she spun around and walked away. I watched her for a minute, then looked at the card. ‘Shay huh? That’s a pretty name, I am definitely gonna be calling her.” I walked the rest of the way home consumed by our exchange, never once realizing her name was the same as the one in my Transcendental Medication journey. The plot was changing and I wasn’t even aware.
The rest of the world continued completely unaware of the majestic occurrences I had experienced. I had half a sandwich with a big frosty mug of Brown Ale while unable to get the gorgeous Shay from my thoughts. I couldn’t wait until tonight, I took out the card with her number and called. “Hello?” Like a teenager I paused thinking maybe I should hang up, but then how will I ever change my plot if I don’t take a chance. “Hello Shay, its me JT, you know the sexy man the knocked you off your feet earlier today?” Now I realize there is no way one can tell over the phone how someone is reacting but I could swear she blushed and smiled, “What took you so long? And you never actually knocked me off my feet.” After a short pause she continued, “Well are you gonna ask me to dinner or just let the tension build up? I love it when the plot thickens.” I was speechless for a second, did she say the plot? Oh my god this has to be kismet, maybe this is my Ambrosina! Better remain collected, if I start talking about my journey she’ll think I’m crazy for sure. I swallowed hard and did it, “Can I take you to dinner Shay, like maybe right now? I-I mean tonight?” I was excited beyond belief so many possibilities dancing through my head, “I would like that JT, but I have to tell you I don’t normally date men who have initials for a name, what do the initials stand for?” I paused, no one has called me by my name in ages but this woman is turning me inside out. And I’m liking it. “Well, I had kinda hippie parents, my Dad was a joker of sorts, so they name me Justin Thyme, you know like he arrived just in time? That’s why I go by JT, but you can call me Justin.” She laughed out loud, a beautiful wonderful laugh. Oh My God! What is happening to me? “Okay Justin, how about you pick me up at seven? We’ll take it from there. Use your imagination and come up with an idea that will knock my socks off an maybe you will knock them off. I don’t make plans, I hate plans, I like things to be kind of….improvisational.” I haven’t been called Justin since the third grade but it sounded so natural coming from Shays lips. And she hates plans, lives her life like an improv just like me. A dream come true, this must be love. “I will pick you up then, just need to know where.” She gave me her address which is a sure sign she is interested and feels safe with me. No time to waste, gotta pick out my best clothes and get cleaned up, I’m going on a date that is about to change my plot.
TBC

Universal Culture

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culture

The Universe Is A Petrie Dish
J.T. Hilltop

There are those among us that believe that we are the ultimate creations, the single most important species in the universe. No, not the Kardashians, I’m talking about the reverently religious zealots who still insist that the universe was created by the one true creator, theirs. The ones that say earth is only 6,000 years old and science is pure nonsense. Bad news my zealot friends, the truth is we are a small speck of a culture dish being studied under a microscope. The bacterium on slides we viewed in biology labs in high school haven’t even been discovered yet by the ones studying us. To them the bacteria we observe microscopically is still a hypothesis called quantum theory and they are searching for the Higgs Bosen, or God particle which in reality is our very own staphylococcus. Get it? Well don’t, it’s a bitch to get rid of. So anyway that essentially makes us pathogens to these humongous scientific creatures who have us in their Petrie dish. Whaaaaaat? Okay, a little perspective.
As we will learn, assuming we pay attention to the new show Cosmos: A Space Time Odyssey, (On NatGeo.. highly recommend!!) there are many universes, a multiverse not just the universe we can’t even seem to find the end of. Personally I think instead of just exploring all over the universe trying to find the end one of us should just stop and ask directions. Unfortunately that would involve admitting we are not the smartest species in this universe let alone the millions of others out there. At any rate, our universe is situated in a huge scientific lab that makes the large Hadron Collider in Europe seem laughable, almost like a tiny little ant farm being viewed from the moon. Not our moon, Io, one of Jupiter’s moons.
The truth is our universe does have limits in the way of a spherical finite dish with a circumference as its boundaries. Our seemingly never ending universe is a live active culture in large round dish known as Experiment#541728226, and it is stored along with hundreds upon hundreds of other universe dishes all containing planets, and solar systems, and galaxies, and quasars, black holes, pulsars and super novas. Or as the multiverse scientists call it, Cosmic Bacterium. To us, our planet has a multitude of different species including humans, but to the Cosmic Scientist its merely an experiment and we are what they call micro-humanoid genatlium, a parasitic bacteria they discovered on the hairs of the genitals of a species from their world similar to our primates. They loving refer to us humans as GBHB. (Gorilla Ball Hair Bacteria)
Now I know this all sounds a bit far fetched but when you really think about it its not much different than many of the tales of the various religions around our own world. Aside from the obvious burning bushes, floating zoo’s, talking donkeys, salt pillar people, and river parters of the regular sort we have a religion created by a sci-fi writer, ones that focus on magic spells, UFO’s, cosmic light people, and even a church of euthanasia, which promotes cannibalism, suicide, and sodomy. And that’s not even the most bizarre, there is a group of people who believe the illuminati impregnated a women with Satan’s sperm and delivered the baby antichrist (Was its Moms name Rosemary?) They also believe that Nicola Tesla was originally from Venus and that we are conducting cloning experiments on Mars. Now I ask you, is a universe that’s a petri dish in a cosmic laboratory really all that out there?
I mean really, compare my theory to creation theorist that include leaders who convince their followers to drink poison Kool aid, commit mass suicide to transport their souls to a spaceship, allowed themselves to be killed while locked in a building, and finding assorted methods of death to escape the coming apocalypse by being reborn on a planet orbiting the star Sirius. I’m serious, Sirius!
Shit, by comparison my theory sounds almost plausible, or perhaps even sane! Hell, maybe it is sane, maybe I’m on to something. Perhaps the end of the world as we know it won’t be so spectacular, perhaps our world will end when the scientist in charge of experiment 541728226 gets frustrated at their progress and dumps the entire universe sown the drain. Or maybe I watch too much Doctor Who. But hey……Ya never know!

OH WHAT A NIGHT!

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what a night 1

(Time to get up, if you can)
The sun was scratching at my eyes an my head was pounding out a thunderous redundant painful beat. Over an over, boom, boom,boom boom, echoing dully through my skull. In the throes of confusion I tried to make sense of my situation. Where the fuck am I? Am I like dead or something? I looked down. Oh shit, I’m alive, and I’m naked in an unfamiliar bed. Naked? Could be a good thing, think back, think back. I remember Me and Miles were at a bar, his favorite biker bar and…. Wait! Jesus shit something moved! Holy fuck there someone else in bed with me. I looked at myself again, buck bone naked, matted pubic hair region, some sort of secretion has occurred… Oh my God! Oh Jesus shit in Hell please don’t let it be Miles laying next to me! I squinted through the powerful streaks of sunrays reaching through the window. I felt some large breasts on my back. Okay, okay, it’s a female, at least there’s that, but who the hell is she? I looked at myself again, naked and seemingly spent. I must have had a lot of sex last night because my normal morning wood is a morning wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. But who’s in bed with me?
An unfamiliar voice in a groggy hoarse tone.“ Well hey there Myron, you ready for a fifth time?” There was a hint of a schoolgirl giggle when she asked me if I wanted to… Wait, did she call me Myron? The only time I use Myron is when I need an alias. Why would I need tell her my name was Myron? “Ah, um, what do you mean?” Uh man my head was pounding, what the fuck did I drink last night? “You two went at it all night, hahaha. You gonna do it again for us to watch? Oh yea do it!” Another strange female voice from across the room. Okay, two beds, me and Miles, this must be a no tell motel room we’re in. Miles is over in the other bed with a chick too. I attempted to remove the fog from my mind but the defroster wasn’t working yet so I rubbed my eyes extra hard as if it would help me remember but it only made matters worse.
I must have taken something last night, a pill or something because I’ve had a million hangovers before but this is like a fugue, I haven’t a clue where I am, who’s in be with me, how I got here, or even what day it is. There was a bottle of water on the nightstand so I took a big mouthful and long swallow to remove the stale shitty taste in my mouth. I peeked over to Miles who was still sleeping but his apparent partner was sitting up in bed naked as a jaybird with her breasts just hanging out in the open. I forced my eyes away from her breasts an looked at her face. She was pretty although the heavy make up she must have worn last night was now making her look like a raccoon. But a pretty raccoon, with real long full blond hair and an obvious well endowed chest. Hard to tell from that vantage point but she appeared rather short, maybe five foot but then again she was sitting cross-legged on a bed and her breasts were like magnets to my eyes, blurred as my vision was. I glanced closer noticing her blond hair was platinum blond that screamed give me peroxide or give me death. But it did look sexy on her and I assumed we had double dated ending up in a hotel. I took a chance, “You two were pretty loud yourselves.” She let out a half laugh, half giggle, “I guess so but I never heard Jenny screaming like that before, I‘d love to see what you did to get her to scream so loud.” The woman next to me blushed, “You’re just jealous Nance, but he is a real tease this one” Jenny! At least I have a name now, but I still don‘t remember anything. The stranger named Jenny, unless she used an alias too, was coming to life herself offering me a good view of her naked body. Not so tiny, she was maybe five and a half foot, but much larger than her counterpart in Miles bed. She also had blond hair but dirty blond, I couldn’t tell how long but there was an incredible amount of hair. Jenny was no stranger to tattoo’s having several small inkings along her arms which seemed somewhat scattered and disorganized. Not the flow of ink like I have, each arm telling a story with the Grim Reaper chest tattoo guarding my heart. But it wasn’t horrible, they could be fixed with some new ink. Her body was stout having a fair amount of meat on her bones but her most striking attribute by far was her enormous mammary glands. I have never seen such huge breasts, at least not in person. Those beauties could have their own area code they were so big. The truth is I’m more of what they call a leg man, I love long muscular legs but I also have no problem exploring new area’s, especially if they have their own area code. I estimated the mountainous melons to weigh a good twenty pounds a piece.
“Hehe, I know what’s for breakfast.” She bent down and took my spent member in her mouth. Fully engulfed I was… how do you say it? Flaccid. I stopped her, “Not right now Jenny, I need to shower and some coffee.” What the Hell was I thinking? I just opted out of getting morning head! Well first I really need to figure out what’s going on, maybe later. Platinum blond from across the room chimed in, “Ohhh, that’s a great idea JT, lets all go shower together.” Fuck! How come she knows my real name but her friend thinks I’m….My thought was cut off by the confused Jenny, “I though your name was Myron?” Jenny squeezed my balls, so I knew I better have the right answer, “So what is your name stud muffin?” Think quick. “My name is Myron but most people, like Miles there call me JT. It’s short for, um, Justin Time, you know because I always seem to get where I need to be just in time…..
I damn near ran into the shower to attempt to collect my rational but was instantly joined by two naked women. A beautiful fantasy had it not been for the fact that one of these ladies, a very hot and sexy lady, was my best friend Miles girlfriend and the other, a slightly overweight tattoo laden lady with mammary glands that require a summit to fully appreciate was apparently my girlfriend. Nevertheless, I was showering with two women, one which was soaping me up, which at this point was possible again. Nancy seductively and teasingly soaped her own body up while watching and commentating on how we were performing. “oh yea Jenny, I think you have his full attention.” The hot water was helping clear my head a bit so within seconds I was standing at soapy attention. Who am I to pass up such a golden opportunity. I gave in and we lathered each other into frenzied states of passion and made love standing in the shower as Nancy commented on our every move. After having been afforded the opportunity to explore the humongous appendages I can confirm the twenty pound estimate, adding that they require almost a half bar of soap just for each. But more importantly I sensed we had made some sort of connection that I can’t seem to recall. Not sure if this is bad or good, I hope when Miles wakes up he can shed some light on how I got here, and more importantly, Where the fuck are we and what day is it!!!

Subway Sanwhich Chain Says Chew On This

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yoga

Hoagie Central Replaces Yoga Mat with Bath Mat

Hoagie Central has announced it has upgraded their hoagie rolls to a healthier and less consumer panicking recipe. They have replaced the rolls they were buying from the Downward Dog Bakery with the less chewy rolls from Mirror Mist bread Company. Senior officials cite the recent bombshell dropped on Twitter exposing the fact that large pieces of yoga mat have been found in the rolls. Mirror Mist uses the less rubbery bath mat, although they still fear finding remnants from the bath mat remnants. “Our quality control team has been sampling many of the local bakeries to find which one has the most easily digestible foreign objects and after an exhaustive and gastro intestinal challenging search we found that Mirror Mist has the fewest defects. We only want to use the best possible inappropriate products to rip off our customers with. If they all were to choke on yoga mat fibers we would lose a huge percentage of our clients.”
Downward Dog Bakery refused our offer for an interview but released this statement, “Downward Dog uses only the finest quality yoga mat in our breads. We not only stand behind the matting we use we also stand on them in upward facing proud peacock pose. We guarantee the yoga mats we bake with are only slightly used in strictly Bikram Yoga classes which you may know is heated, thereby destroying all the bacterium from the participants feet. We never put our customers in an awkward position and literally bend over backwards to make the best rolls we can for our customers ” Not reassured by this Hoagie Central has taken steps to insure only bathroom matting reaches the mouths of their customers. “We understand Downward Dogs position but we have to think of the people we are taking money from, and 90% of them have Twitter accounts. With all the bad publicity we received from the chewy yoga matted bread we don’t want our customer base to be reduced to 140 characters or less.”
Consumer advocate groups have praised the decision noting that not only were the chunks of yoga mat a choking hazard, but they also contained almost twice the calories of the more expensive bath mat. They have expressed concern over the color dyes used in some bathmats as well as the hairy fibers, but close inspection of Mirror Mists mats passed the smell test. Choo Won Deese, the makers of the somewhat edible yoga mats could not be reached for comment.
The opinions expressed by The Existential Baker do not necessarily reflect in the Mirror Mist, but he does want to point out that all of his products are 100% mat free.

Doing A Few Lines, And Line Cooks

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after mimi

Potsink Diaries
Leaving Mimi Dee’s was hard but I had to do it. I was smoking way too much weed, I had affairs with three women and got caught. I got too close to the edge having cheated myself out of a great relationship with a great chick. Carrie would never talk to me again and honestly I didn’t blame her. If I wasn’t stuck with me I’d never talk to me either, but it is what it is. Or was. I found myself in a new relationship with a new job so now and its time to man up and act like an adult. Me, an adult? Not sure that can work but I had to at least give it a go. I applied for and got a job as line cook at Moonleaves, a family restaurant in Syosset not far from Mimi Dees. I say line cook. At Moonleaves that had two meanings, one was the cooks line where my sauté station was. I had four entrée’s and two appetizers to prepare and plate during service. The other line cook was all the cooks doing lines. I never saw so much white powder in my life! It was as though the entire staff snorted a gram a day. Pot, pills, and cocaine flowed so freely it was more like a drug mart than a restaurant. Dishwashers, busboys, waits staff, cooks, just about everyone in the kitchen did drugs and the manager was a raging alcoholic too drunk to notice.
The amount of total degradation there was astounding, cooks banging waitresses in the storeroom, oral sex among the glass racks, even an area specifically reserved for gay sex. You could watch, partake, or just ignore, your choice. It was the Sodom an Gomorrah of the restaurant world and this was the mid 70‘s, the decade of decadence and drugs. Pot was smoked constantly out by the dumpsters, pills were exchanged openly, lines of coke were cut on sheet pans, and in the walk in refrigerators soup pots of screwdriver and gram jars of cocaine were at the ready. “Freeze Break” meant someone was running into the fridge to take a hit of blow an a swig of vodka and OJ. It’s a wonder we ever got a single meal out let alone get through service of a hundred and forty dinners a night. So much for a serious relationship, I fell into it like a pro, screwing every waitress I could and having my clock cleaned orally twice a week. Yea, line cook and head waitress were ironic terms at Moonleaves.
Even though I was engaging in so much extra curricular I also had begun to actually hone some cooking skills learning to make sauces a la minute and handling a constant litany of ordering and picking up of my food items. I was finally good at something and actually enjoyed doing it, a win-win. Pay for play. I had gotten so good at my station I helped out on the grill when it was overwhelmed, and the other line cooks when they needed a hand. The sous chef was ecstatic because it meant less work for him so he could go back to the glass racks where he would find non culinary satisfaction.
By early December I was beginning to fall apart from all the sex and drugs. I lived with my girlfriend Janet who enjoyed the weed and coke as much as I did. I always reserved some of both for home. It was becoming harder and harder, or sometime not hard at all, to perform sexually with Janet between my indiscretions and the coke both. The staff Christmas party was just around the corner and I could only imagine what a sick fucking party it would be. There wa sure to be tons of party enhancers and lots of parking lot sex. I resisted as best I could at Moonleaves when sex was offered but in the end I wasn’t the most faithful of lovers. No way I could bring Janet the party to meet the waitresses I have been with. I know Janet didn’t like me working there, and for good reason she was jealous. I was juggling it all really well, barely balancing sex at home and Moonleaves by never allowing the two to overlap. Repeated requests to meet my “friends at the restaurant” were deflected and redirected. Janet wasn’t stupid and even though I was a “strapping young stud” I could only handle so much. Besides, a girlfriend always knows, whether it’s the distant scent of perfume from a tryst hours ago or just the way we kiss. Putting passion into a kiss is like a fingerprint to a woman, and Janet was quite a woman. “JT, either you take me to the Christmas party to meet your friends or I’m going to eat there everyday.” Trapped like the rat fink I was.
I needed to figure out how to keep Janet from the restaurant. My two separate lives were on a collision course and the explosion would surely destroy both worlds. A plan was hatched. Let me just put a touch of perspective on this, I have hatched an enormous number of plans and from that maybe a handful have worked in my favor. This one had all the earmarks of being amongst the majority of failures. What logic I found in asking Janet to marry me as a way to get out of this would confound Einstein. But that was the plan, to buy a ring, ask Janet if she’ll marry me, an tell her we could get married sometime next year. I believed it would give me time to figure out a balance. Now I just had to figure out how to balance the news to Trudy, the waitress who sort of became my work girlfriend, the one waitress I had become exclusive with at Moonleaves. I know she is planning something huge for us at the Christmas party that involved a jello bath and some Quaaludes so I decided I could wait until after the party which now Janet won’t feel a need to go to. I’ll tell her its not a “party” party but more like we all just sit down to dinner together. Weak at best, but I was convinced of my own schmoozing abilities.
Janet was prepared for the usual argument surrounding Moonleaves and the staff party so it caught her totally off guard when I handed her a small box. Her eyes lit up like stadium floodlights, “What is this? JT……What’s in the box?” Girlish excitement was building as her face took on a kid at Christmas look. “Well…..why don’t you open it and see.” Her hands shook fumbling with the box as I positioned myself on my knee in front of her timing my request in perfect unison with the opening, “Janet, will you marry me?” She jumped up screaming, her hands flailing wildly, “Oh my God yes, yea of course JT, of course I’ll marry you.” We embraced while Janet allowed tears to flow freely, tears of happiness and even I got caught up in the frenzy. After kissing me a dozen times or so I became unimportant, “I’ve got to tell my Mom, and my sister, and…” She rattle off a number of her besties while the depth of what I had just done sunk in. Jesus shit, what have I done? Not sure I thought this one through.
Janet and I made love that night, with extreme emotion and reckless abandon. It was the wildest sex the two of us had in a very long time. Four times before we finally collapsed in exhaustion. The party had not come up in conversation once and now I’m not so sure I played this right. I will most likely need to opt out of the party all together to concentrate more on how to keep work and home separate on a more permanent basis. I would need to tell everyone at Moonleaves I was engaged which would change things drastically. I could still do the drugs, but the sex had to stop. Maybe it was for the better anyway.
The second I got to Moonleaves I was prepared to tell everyone of my wedding plans, but Trudy had other idea’s. Trudy was a hot an very sexy chick, not the kind of girl you bring home to Mama. With long straight jet back hair and the sexiest eyes alive! She wore a ton of make up which she didn’t really need because she was real pretty. But the make up made her look intensely sexy, like the woman that grabs you by your libido and forces you to surrender to her will. Thick black eyeliner, huge curled eyelashes, a deep blue swatch above each eye and the reddest lipstick around coating some naturally thick succulent lips. HOT! She put her hands up to my chest, looked deep into my soul with eyes smiling that sex smile that melts my loins. With a playful kittenish demeanor she pushed me toward the glass racks. I should resist, this shit has to stop. Too much drugs and I know Trudy thinks we are boyfriend and girlfriend even though she knows I live with Janet. I mean she lives with her boyfriend so its not like we would ever be together as a couple. That’s it, no more! She pushed my back against one of the racks and I grabbed her cheeks tilting her head up to mine to tell her we can‘t do this. Oh my God she looked so hot and vulnerable. Before I spoke a word her hand wandered down my stomach to my jeans as she undid my belt, then the zipper. Before I knew it I was rock hard on the racks moaning while Trudy gave me the most incredible head ever. When she finished me off she raised her head, kissed me with an open mouth an I hungrily swapped spit with her. “Mmmmm, that was good baby, see you after my shift?” I was no longer thinking no more, I was thinking lets do it again Trudy. “Of course baby, I’ll get a room after service.” I gotta quit this job!!!

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

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nu

A Potsink Diary Reflection
Cooking at a rest home was not especially challenging but I’m still in a kitchen, at least sometimes, and I had fun working with Margie and Flo. Margie was not only the big boss but a favorite of the owner so she called all the shots 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 to hang out with the nurse and the aides. We laughed and joked a lot, I was one of only two males working there, but it just never dawned on me that nurses could not only tease with expertise, but they are also practical jokers.
One day as I was flirting with one of the aides Margie 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 eerily similar ring to it. It sounded too much like the “downtime” Chef Jimmy was so adept at. I thought back to all the mindless tasks the chef assigned me that not only bored me to tears but drained what little sanity I had left in me. In a sheepish voice I inquired if it was in fact anything like downtime but Maggie assured me it was just a small job and she needed help with an SSE. I started to feel a little relief, SSE didn’t sound like it was anything horrible. But an uneasy feeling did come over me when I saw the dastardly dog smile on the other nurses. “Meet us up inna Miss Lemcows room upstair. We meet you dare Jhay.”
When I walked in the room I began to get a tad concerned. After all, this place was loaded with some of the most extremely senile people to ever observe the Civil War. At the very least they read about it in the “Recent History” books. I was called into the bathroom where they had poor Mrs. Lemkaugh sitting naked on the toilet. It was an embarrassing sight for me but Mrs. Lemkaugh never even took notice of me. She wasn’t in control of her faculties and as I would soon find out not in control of bodily functions. I tried 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 wrinkled. I felt very uncomfortable, as though I were violating her privacy. I guess I was but she was completely unaware of my existence let alone my embarrassment at that violation. I looked away choosing to focus on my Jamaican boss who I was beginning to develop a crush on. In Margies 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 stared blankly as I grabbed the can. Flo, the sexy forty something nurse leaned up to my ear and whispered “Is this your first Soap Suds Enema honey?” It took a minute for the words to sink in. Now the SSE took on an entirely dark aura. I had heard all three words before but never in the same sentence and certainly not as a single concept, but there it was. Soap. Suds. Enema. Innocuous as three words, I use soap, I bust suds, and I know what an enema is but how in the fuck can all three become one? Pondering the concept it can only mean one thing. I was holding a can of soapy water, so there’s the soap and suds, but where does enema fit in? I looked down at Margie grabbing the other end of the rubber hose and in an instant it hit me. Oh my fucking god in heaven that’s where it fit in, literally. 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 apparently mixed in the contents the Mrs. Lemkaughs gastro-intestinal system 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 they were 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 could still hear the ladies laughing and all kind of sloshing and flushing. I gagged once again as I considered a despicable thought. I feared this wouldn’t be my last SSE and my job around the nursing home was evolving a bit too rapidly.
I was to learn quickly that playing jokes was a way for the nurses to keep their sanity in check. Everyone says don’t get involved with the patients but you really can’t help it. It’s like being surrounded by your grandparents and all their alter egos and they are all so cute. One of the darkest jokes was when Margie sent me into Old Mrs. Carrols room to check on her because she never showed up for lunch. Mrs. Carroll was a staff favorite because she was funny and didn’t seem to have any family. At least none that came to visit. She was kind of in her own little world but she was funny as all hell when she got rolling on shit. “JT? What the damn kind of a name is JT? Whassa mattah, your Mom and Dad couldn’t afford a whole name so they just gave you initials? Where are you from anyway, N Y?” She would say shit like that with deadpan face and so sarcastically accurate it could make a sack of onions cry in envy. Anyway, I went in to see how she was and she was like motionless in bed with her eyes closed. It was eerily quiet in the room which smelled strongly of stale urine. Another aroma I had become accustomed to! Many of the patients, the old folks, had lost control of their body functions. Every room had a cloud of urine stink to one degree or another and the carpets had faded stains everywhere if you looked close. But today the urine cloud was unusually aggressive. It snuck out from the corners of the stained and worn carpet and like a stench poltergeist dancing about merrily in search of an olfactory gland to haunt. And haunt it did. With the unappealing fragrance of rotten eggs soaked in ammonia the cloud of stench creeps into your nostrils and looks for a place to hang out. Sometimes it teams up with the century old shit stink. After decomposing in a ninety year old set of intestines remnants collect in the bowels to congregate. I looked over at Mrs. Carrol who was just lying in bed. But I mean JUST lying! She wasn’t moving at all. I called her name and no response. The silence in the room was the most eerie silence I had ever felt and as I got closer to Mr. Carrol her face was purple and lifeless. I damn near shit myself. I began to shake and knew in an instant that the smell today was so strong because its the smell of death! Something I never ever want to smell again. I was overcome with emotion. Profoundly sad because someone I care about is lying dead in front of me, confused because what the Hell is death anyway, and angry because why did she have to die. I wondered who her family was, if they cared. Had she known love? Is there anyone from her life who’s going to miss her. Then I started thinking how I have to break the news to Mar….Wait! What!! Son of a bitch they knew when they sent me in here! My anger shifted its focus.
When I got back to the lounge they were all laughing hysterically like it was one big god damn joke. My emotions were boiling until I looked at the ladies. They were laughing, but they were crying too. They were trying to cope with the loss the only way they knew. I walked up to Margie, looked her right in the face and said, “Oh yea, laugh now, cuz when I get you back you gonna forget how to laugh at all.” She glared back at me then we all started laughing, and crying, and this weird hugfest started as we all tried to put Mrs. Carrols death away to somewhere. Deep in some mental attic filled with cobwebs so it won‘t effect us. Like I said, we’re not supposed to get attached but it sure is hard when you lose a patient you’re attached to. Real hard.
But that was life at Mimi Dee’s. A mixture of emotions and never knowing what the day would bring. I was cooking again, flirting tirelessly, but had become a fixture. Something had to give. All the young ladies, some from my school, some from other schools, and the nurses. I flirted like it was part of my job. And let me tell you I really dug it. I did feel some degree of guilt because Carrie and I were very serious about each other. Flirting wasn’t exactly cheating, but it wasn’t complete faithfulness either. But still I dug the shit out of so much attention from so many females. Margie would tease me relentlessly about taking me home to her ‘Garden Apartment” when hey boyfriend Bob was out of town. It felt so good but I worried a little if I would ever take it too far. I want to be faithful, but between my raging hormones and insatiable sweet tooth for dancing on the edges of life I had to consider I may one day get too close to that edge. On top of that I knew life was getting stale for me here. I knew I needed to get out of here and get back to proper cooking but I was just so comfortable here, and comfort isn’t something I’ve had much of in my short life. So what do I want to be, a chef or a cheating boyfriend with a job but no career. Something has to give.

Time To Settle Down.

ONE REALLY BIG SPECIAL NIGHT IN ‘64

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beatles #1

It was 20 years ago today, Sergeant Peppers taught his band to play. I doubt there is anyone in America of my generation that’s not familiar with that line. But on February 9th, 2014 it was 50 years ago today that counted. That was the day America was ready to….Meet The Beatles. After that night came a plethora of new albums, Magical Mystery Tour, Rubber Soul, Revolver, The White Album and more. Help, Its Been a Hard Days Night here on Abbey Road. 50 years ago! Yea, a lot has been made of the recent 50 year anniversary of the Beatles conquering America. But nothing really caught any of the energy that one special evening created. Five songs transformed a generation, gave it something to identify with. The Beatles merely changed the way we spoke, the way we dressed, the way we listened to music, the way we viewed our politics, and in general the way we lived our lives. And it all started on one night all across America in households of families huddled around a Sunday night ritual. The Ed Sullivan show, an institution in the days when most families had only one TV set and the whole family sat and watched it together. Back in those days dinner was served at the same time everyday, an you couldn’t leave the table until you finished everything. Yea, even the vegetables! After dinner the family gathered around the TV set to watch whatever Dad decided we could watch. Saturday mornings we had cartoons and the television belonged to us (so long as our chores were done) but at night there was no democracy. Fascist Pops was in control of what we viewed and we were the remote controls. “JT, go put on channel four. JT, turn this up. JT, fix that horizontal bar.” Pretty much the same in every house, and Sundays were family night. For us it was the same every Sunday, Lassie, followed by My Favorite Martian, followed by The Ed Sullivan Show all on CBS. If I was allowed to stay up after that I had to change to NBC and we watched Bonanza. February 9th 1964 started out just like any other Sunday night, I had no clue what would occur on that special night.
IMHO the Grammy tribute fell way short of recreating any of that energy, not focusing on what that special night really created but instead used it as a promo for Grammy winning acts, popular actors, and an audience that never got a chance to understand the importance that night held to my generation. So I’ve taken it on myself to attempt to capture a slice of the energy released on that special night 50 year ago. For me and my classmates way back in February 1964 that performance was a game changer. A life changer! The moment the first set was over I understood intuitively that something had changed profoundly. For the first time I had my own music, a music made just for me and all I wanted to do was be like The Beatles and listen to more of their music. First I had to wash the Brylcreem out of my hair, remove the slicked back greaser wave and grow my hair. I would have bangs starting the next morning. I wanted to be like The Beatles, those dudes were fucking COOL!
Before that evening like most of my friends I was a follower, a sheep spinning my older brothers 45’s. Not that it wasn’t good music, it was great, but it wasn’t mine and it didn’t have the oomph I would come to know and love. The year before that special night I got my first record player for Christmas. It was a cheap record player that could only handle one record at a time and had one cheesy speaker built in its self contained carrying case that couldn’t go more than four feet away from an electric outlet without an extension cord. My record library consisted of Oh My Darlin’ by Huckleberry Hound, The Theme to Mr. Ed (of course of course) The Chipmunks Christmas song, a searing rendition of The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow, and Sherry by the Four Seasons (That one I stole from my brother, hope he doesn’t read this). But that Sunday night changed all that. In my pajamas with spacemen in spacesuits all over it I sat right in front of the TV. I heard that some Beetles were coming to America, and all I knew at that point was they played music and made girls scream. I was prepared to hear something like The Everly Brothers, or The Beach Boys, or maybe even Bobby Darrin. My parents played Frank Sinatra, Al Hirt, and Andy Williams on the family console but I knew it would be nothing like that. Maybe its four British Elvis Presley’s? But when that first song began, a song called “All My Lovin” my mouth dropped. It was the most amazing thing I had ever heard. And the four guys, long hair shaking as they sang, were just about the coolest things in the universe. I watched and memorized their names, on drums some guy named Ringo. Who has a name like that?! Cool! George, Paul, and sorry girls he’s married John. I knew in an instant this was something I had been waiting for without knowing I was waiting for it. The next tune was called “Till There Was You” sung by the cute guy Paul. In the house next door I heard a blood curdling scream. I looked up startled and my Dad and Mom were chuckling, “Mollie, can you hear Christine next door?” laughter, “Yes I can Joe, listen to her screaming like a banshee for these kids” Christine was my 13 year old next door neighbor who sounded like she was being tortured by the boogey man when in fact in her mind she was asking Paul to marry her. Very loudly and in an eerie shrieking kind of way. Mom an Dad got a good laugh from those cute mop top boys from England. Not quite as funny the next morning when I came downstairs with my hair combed over my forehead in an attempt to copy the look. “You march right upstairs and fix your hair young man!” …..“But Mom!! I wanna………Yes Mom.” That was the first of many years of arguments I would have regarding the length and style of my hair. And it all started on that one magical special night. They finished the first set with a fast rocking tune “She Loves You”, which had all of the kids in school singing yea, yea, yea on the playground the rest of the year.
After another act or two the boys came back for two more songs but it wouldn’t have mattered, the die was cast they had already conquered the youth of America. We were in hook line and sinker. They played “I saw her Standing There” and “I wanna Hold your Hand” what would become two more love anthems of the young. In one special night I had five new favorite songs. I got rid of my 45’s and began swearing a collection of nothing but Beatle songs after that. I had MY music now, not my brothers, not the kid up the blocks, MINE! I bought teen magazines to read about them, had Beatle trading cards, bought many of their 45’s, and a Beatles poster, all of which would make me a bazillionaire if I had them now. As the years passed I could follow my social development by what album came out next. My hair, my politics, my view of love, my global presence all coincided with what the Beatles did on their next album. I didn’t realize it at the time, but every Beatle album I ever listened to could be called a greatest hits album. It was as though they couldn’t make a shit record if they tried.
Whatever The Beatles did I tried to do. As they grew their hair longer so did I, when they dressed more colorful so did I, they talked slang, I talked their slang too, they smoked pot I tried it. I couldn’t get enough information about them. I followed their trip to India in the magazines and adjusted my life around the Fab Four. I especially tried to be like John. Whatever The Beatles said or did validated my doing the same. Not so much for Mom and Dad though, the chuckling over the cute mop tops morphed into a major bone of contention with the generation gap battles. No longer cute and funny lads they were viewed as destroyers of youth, the antichrists. What they really did was to give a voice to a generation and let us know its not only okay to question authority, its a responsibility when authority is being misused. Protest against wrongness, against war, evil and hatred, share love and peace and harmony. What a horrible message to send to kids. Joe McCarthy would have been incensed. With music as their only weapon they conquered us and spread the concept of peace, love, and togetherness to the masses. The Flower Children, The 60’s fashions, The protests, the outdoor concerts, all the positive aspects of the era can be traced back to The Beatles. The Beatles were the truth and the truth set us free. It all began one special night.
I truly hope that another generation of youth will have a perfect storm, a perfect harmony of lives that can reset perfect balance in the Universe the way the Beatles did for mine. Four guys, strangers, all from the same area meet in another country and become a rock and roll band and set the world on its head. Why those specific four? Why that specific area? Why that specific time? Four guys, all with extreme talent that compliments each other forming an unstoppable force. When the world needs it the Universe has a way of supplying the perfect storm like The Beatles. We need a perfect storm now, we need another Beatles. But I just can’t see that happening, the good karma, the positive energy, the light through the darkness coming together at the exact moment, the exact time, for the exact reason. I just can’t! But Hell, I’ve been wrong before, and if it can happen I’ll be glad to be wrong again. C’mon Universe, now more than ever, we need some Beatle magic. Give us just one more “One Really Big Special Night”……PEACE

Sugar’s Existential Crisis and A Sweet Intervention

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shugs

(A Love Once so Sweet)
Sugar cries “Oh girl you must be mad what happened to the sweet love you an me had? Against the door he leans starts a scene and tears fall an burn his sugar dream.” Yea, it’s me your old pal sugar and I’m having an existential crisis. I’m not gonna sugar coat this I just don‘t even know who I am anymore. Remember me sweetie? I was always there for you when you were a kid, always! First in cubes wrapped in paper, then in bowls at the table, I was dancing in your candy, frozen in your ice pops, swimming in soda, and even the subject of one of your favorite movie songs. You remember Mary Poppins singing about how a spoonful of me helped the medicine go down. But now many of you scorn me, blame me for so much of the bad stuff in the world. Don’t hate me just because I’m refined, I can’t help being well educated. Seems you love culture in yogurt but oh my god don‘t let sugar get refined. It isn’t fair, it makes my crystals burn with anger contemplating what’s happening to my once sweet life.
People say I ruin dental plates and rot teeth, I increase peoples body fat, I cause hyper-activity in children, I cause acne in tens, I‘m bad for your liver and I cause diabetes. Now some even suggest I‘m responsible for cancer. Four out of five doctors hate me but I’m not mean spirited or evil, just ask the fifth doctor. When did I become such a bad influence? Why do they categorize me so unfairly, after all, I’m just a carbohydrate, a simple sugar. You can find me naturally in milk and fruits. You may know and love me by some of my other names, fructose, glucose, or maltose. When people use those names they aren’t so quick in judging me. It’s when they use the full force of their contempt staring at me disapprovingly and calling me “Refined Sugar” with an unabridged distain that hurts. It make my blood caramelize and goes directly into my dextrose filled heart . Who am I, what am I, why am I here? I think I need to do some repressed memory exercises to search out my roots and maybe figure out where our love story went wrong.
You may not realize this but I’m older than Jesus Christ himself. That’s right, I came on the scene around 8,000BC in Asia. Yea I was a mere infant back then and was extracted through chewing the cane I was born in. Some brilliant dude in India figured out how to crystallize me around 350AD. They shared the method with some Buddhist monks and before I knew it I was a staple in desserts everywhere. Believe me, its no coincidence that stressed spelled backwards is desserts and I was the main reason! Anyway, the Romans and Greeks used me in medicine (another non-coincidence, lol) but the Arabs actually built housing for me they called mills. Now I was a substance of great importance. An import of great importance and exportance. Cultures went crazy for me, the British colonists even referred to me as white gold. I was a huge profit maker and unfortunately a main reason for slavery in the Caribbean. I don’t like to talk about that aspect, that was the dark period of my life. Not brown sugar, that’s jut me teamed up with molasses. So you see, I’m really not a bad guy and I just don’t understand all the negative energy around me.
My troubles began back in 1957 when some “refined” doctor classified me as poison and accused me of being nothing but “empty calories” shortly after I achieved refined status. “Oh he doesn’t really have any vitamins or minerals like the natural stuff.” Get over yourself Doc, I bring the sweet baby, I make people feel good about themselves, make them happy. I put smiles on children faces. Is THAT empty?
Anyway, that’s why I have been questioning life and why I’m here. What I need is some support, an empathetic ear and comforting words from my friends to let me know I’m still loved. That’s why The Existential Baker asked you all here today to this sugar intervention. He put aside his own profound queries on life which rive him mad just for today to help me get my sugar Zen back on track and into dessert and other culinary preparations. Place your wrath back on GMO’s where it belongs, not on an old sweet friend. When you open your cupboards later today thank that 5 pound bag of sugar for always being there for you, tell the cute little sugar bowl how great it tastes and put some in your coffee or tea. I know many of you use artificial sweeteners and that’s okay so long as you don’t forget about me. Go ahead and use me, use me as much as you want I don’t mind. Just don’t overuse me, I do sometimes have a tendency to wear out my welcome as well as a few teeth when I’m used too much…….Peace

Interview with a school lunch

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sl
When someone as old as The Existential Baker thinks about school lunch it brings up an image of an old lady wearing a hideous hairnet, dirty worn cafeteria uniforms, possessing suspicious personal hygienic habits sneering at me to take my meatloaf and move my tray down the line. A few steps further was what could be her older sister tossing a small dish of canned peaches on my tray and not saying a word but signifying with her head that I should continue on. Up next were rows of milk containers of which I was expected to grab for myself as I move to pay the cashier lunch lady. $.30. A whole lunch for thirty cents, and if I could come up with an additional ten cents I could buy an ice cream pop. I would then take my tray searching for the spot my classmate sit everyday.
But those days have changed, the foods are healthier, the lunch ladies have nicer cleaner uniforms, and most lunches are purchased with a prepaid program card which is where school lunches problems have become so public as of late. The parents of some of the school children lately have neglected or forgotten to remain current and school officials are taking a hard line embarrassing the kids and worse. Some are even tossing school lunches away like yesterdays trash. Lets hear what school lunch has to say about all the attention.

EB: So school lunch, exactly what happened in Utah?

SL: Well I know you remember me in my glory days Mr. baker, and since that time I have worked tirelessly with the Surgeon Generals, the Department of Education, and the AMA to bring healthier options to the students. I never asked to be dragged into this political battle and frankly I don’t like it.

EB: Speaking of health, you’ve also been criticized for becoming too healthy from some students who don’t want your raw veggies and fruits. What started that fiasco?

SL: Well that was my first experience with politics. The First lady Mrs. Obama came to me and pointed out ways in which I could contribute to reducing obesity and promote the general good health of children everywhere. Next thing I know I’m all over the news because its unfair to viewers children to be “forced” to eat healthy. I get it, kids would rather me offer greasy cheeseburgers dripping with fat and soda and candy but FOTUS was right, those options are unwise and place the children’s health at risk. Unfortunately we can’t force parents to monitor their own children to eat proper so that’s where I could help by offering an affordable alternative with health benefits. I offer these alternatives while their parents are off working or sitting home eating Bon Bons or whatever. It’s not my fault they are afraid to stand up to their children and tell them the choices we gave you Existential. You remember your two choices, take it or leave it. What you did outside of school was your business but when you’re in our institutions it was my responsibility to educate you on how to eat. That’s all we want, a little support from the parents when their children are in our charge. We are not Mickie Dee’s or Taco King, we offer affordable healthy choices.

EB: I applaud that Lunch, but let me get back to the pre paid programs that are so out of control. Many of the schools have prepaid systems for school lunches and they seem to work out fairly well. But in Utah, the authorities at one school singled out students whose parents hadn’t stayed up to date on their prepaid cards, told the children they were not allowed any food and then tossed the uneaten lunch in the trash. How did that make you feel?

SL: I’m still burning over that, why anyone would use me to make some bullshit political statement is beyond absurd. On top of that then throwing me away while there are plenty of churches or food banks that would have loved to taken me in to do some good instead of ending up in a landfill. It’s despicable! The truth is this was not a community of people who are neglectful of their children or who are hurting for money. It happened in an average American city of hard working people who have so much on their plate, pun intended, that they sometimes overlook the more mundane tasks like keeping track of their lunch cards. All the authorities needed to do was to remind the parents they were behind on their payments and it could have all been avoided. That’s actually a practice they used before, but for some unknown reason they determined it was not a good use of their time. Apparently their time is better spent embarrassing children, making parents feel inadequate, an throwing away food that could have fed the disenfranchised.

EB: I can see you’re angry and rightly so school lunch. After years of being treated with complete indifference I for one am very happy and proud of your accomplishments and hope you get your due. Also pun intended, thank you for taking the time out to talk with me, an I hope your future relationship with school officials and parents can benefit from this tragedy. Thank again School Lunch.

SL: Thank you Mr. Existential Baker, we appreciate all the support we can get.
So there you have it, School Lunches endured year’s of ridicule before taking an important role in children’s health only to be misused and politicized. I’d like to thank you all for joining us today, if you have children please stay current on your prepaid lunch cards and give school lunch your support in its attempt to bring healthier and more nutritious option to your children. Eat well, eat healthy, and live life every day…..PEACE