Tag: humor

The Oz Ultimatum, part II

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

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

Fractured Tales of The Bible

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

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

Cosmo an the Garden Earth

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

Confessions of An Expanded Mind

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

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

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Put Down That Rake And Get Back In The Kitchen

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

Rolling Overcompensation

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Size matters. Not to me, and in the scheme of thing I believe not to most people but to some it truly does. I think it’s a matter of perspective. Guys seem to think if their love muscle doesn’t measure up to the previous lover of the one they fancy they are somehow less of a man. Personally I have much more faith in women in general to be less superficial and caring more about character than (ahem)…membership. Not that there aren’t some women whose preference is a larger waving male, but for the most part its how you use a tool, not how big it is. You can’t do precision work with a sledgehammer! But men have been waving their flag poles for years in an attempt to establish dominance. But how is a dude to know if his size is above average unless he is able to study other dudes? Some try sneaking a peek while at the urinal but that seems kind of….inappropriate! So how do those males ensure they are of sizeable content without seeming less male-ish? They don’t. They overcompensate just to be sure.
How did The Existential Baker get on this particular tangent? Certainly not watching cupcakes rise in the oven, or meringues forming stiff peaks. No, its because of what I saw on the road today. I live in the area of the country effected by Hurricane Sandy, and everyone around here has Sandy envy. Not envy, that was a cheap shot for a laugh, Sandy Paranoia. Well there’s another storm a brewin in the area and it promises tpo be a whopper. (I know, more cheap laughs) People are loading up with gas, the supermarkets are jammed packed with doomsayers with cart full of bread, water, and milk, and the overcompensaters of the road are all out showing off their much larger vehicles. Everywhere you look, Hummers, 4×4’s, Rams, pick ups with four huge tires, pick ups with 6 huge tires and the worst culprit, the pick ups with plow extensions. That’s right, extensions. Almost crude and lewd letting their plows hang out for all to see with nary a flake of snow anywhere. Typical of a show off to fly their plows all over town sso everyone can view the sharp strong metal that in the name of chivalry will remove all the snow from the ladies path and shove it in a corner.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I have been around a pretty long time, made my share of mistakes, but I never looked at having a relationship be considered a conquest, even if it was a short lived one time experience. If I need to show off I show off how smart and compassionate I am. Relationships are all worthy of respect and there is no need to shove your plow in anyone’s face. If you need make an impression on your partner your partner do it with care and compassion. It won’t leave any markings to call your own, but it will be a solid foundation none the less. And that’s no small thing!!…………….PEACE

The Great Santa Swindle

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A Santa Conspiracy?? STFU (no really, stfu!)
I’m a LIAR. That’s right, I’m a bold faced liar. Not compulsive or pathologic, but a liar none the less. But fuck it man, so are you. In fact every one reading this is a liar. In fact everyone NOT reading this is a liar. Oh you can pretend you’re not a liar if you want but then you’ll just be lying to yourself. We are born liars one and all. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t mean we’re not honest, indeed many of us most hopefully are as honest and sincere as the day is long. But truth be told we all engage in non truth and that’s no lie.
We actually believe firmly in lies. Don’t believe me? Tell the 4 year old child of Christian parents that there is no Santa Claus and tell me if they don’t act like you shoved a razor sharp machete right through the Childs heart, then pulled it out and cut of the parents reproductive organs. That’s how hurt and disturbed they will be. The most cardinal of cardinal sins is breaking the Santa code of lies. Trust me I know because I did that once. Okay, that’s another lie, but it did happen to my son. Well not exactly the Santa thing but close enough. I just embellished the truth a little because the Santa thing sounds so much better. Just embellished a little? LOL. That’s a lie. Here’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
My son is pretty mellow. Maybe not as mellow as his pot smoking old man, but mellow. So I was pretty taken aback when he called me to vent in such an angry and aggressive way. “Hey Pops, I am pissed!” Quite different from the usual “Hey Pops, what the fucks up?” He continued. “Daria’s teacher told her class that there is no such thing as magic.” At first I was somewhat perplexed, telling a six year old that magic can be scientifically explained is part of the learning process. My son would have to put it in perspective for me because it’s been a long time since I had to deal with shit concerning children, at least on this level. Truthfully I’m not sure if I would have engaged in so many of the lies I used with him and his sisters growing up in today’s climate. I cautiously asked what made him so angry about it and perspective is what he gave me…..In an unusually terse voice he replied. “One of Daria’s ( probably the most beautiful grand daughter in the world) teachers told her that magic is not real and there is no magic Kingdom. Now Daria is questioning everything I ever told her. I wanna kick his god damn ass!” His daughter is his “princess” and they live in Orlando where Disney’s Magic Kingdom is an icon. She believes in fairytales and my son and his wife delight in spinning fantasy stories to her, especially ones involving princesses. She believes Dora explores, she believes Bob builds, and she believes she can speak Chinese when she says Ni Hao to Kai-Lan . She even believes she will someday figure out where Carmen Sandiego is. (Not true) At least until the other day. Since that day her world has been shattered. Now she doubts everything.
I must admit I was a bit torn. Being a cynical old fart magic kingdoms and fairy princesses have long lost any scintilla of appeal. We have to tell our kids the truth at some point, but he is right, that should have been my sons decision and not a teachers. I had my perspective. What was that dude thinking? If she doubts magic, who in the hell will she believe in .. believe in hell? Or heaven? I mean, if the stories religions tell us aren’t based on magic than what is? So by extension he was hinting to her that god may not exist, or heaven. After he vented for a long while my son and I went off on philosophical theories about lying. We finally agreed that I lie, he lies, his daughter lies, and the teacher lies.
But what about you liars? Ever hear anyone say to you I never lie? Next time look them directly into their lying eyes and say, “You‘re such a liar. Because like it or not, we all lie. When we say” Tell them I’m not in right now.” “Can you call my boss and tell them I’m sick and can’t come in today?” Give me a brake. I was a chef and I heard all kinds of excuses all the way up to I have scarlet fever, complete with sound effects like wheezing an coughing. You may hear “but those are white lies so it’s okay.”
Are you telling me if we color code our lies it makes some of them permissible? Somehow a white lie sin’t a real lie? Maybe it was a purple lie, or green. No matter, its still a lie. Wait. I didn’t lie, it was just a little fib you say? I’m not a liar I’m a fibber you say” Pu-leeze! We are lied to before we can speak. A spoonful of pureed food coming our way, “here comes an airplane, open the hanger.“ “Look at what the Easter Bunny left you.” “Put your tooth under your pillow and the Tooth Fairy will leave you something.” And of course the ultimate most sacred lie,, Santa Claus. I engaged in this sacred lie myself. I used Santa to make the kids behave, at least for the first 3 weeks of December, and I totally enjoyed watching their faces a they opened up presents with glee an reckless abandon. I marveled at how for the most part siblings play along with scam even when they reach the point of knowing the truth. I had 4 older brothers and nary a one of them betrayed the magic of Santa. So my parents not only taught my brothers to lie, they involve them in a conspiracy to conceal the truth from me. Which must be an extremely strong conspiracy because I can’t imaging how badly the brother closet in age would have enjoyed bursting my magic bubble. So this is my girt to you conspiracy theorists out there. Santa Claus, a deep and far reaching conspiracy that goes back to the 1700’s, before Kennedy, before Roswell, even before the Lincoln conspiracy.
Somewhere on a grassy knoll up in the North Pole there was a second elf that fired that evil truth right into the heart of children all across the globe piercing their longstanding belief in the magic of that white hairy bearded man in red pajama’s who, even though looking more like a pedophile than a Saint, was handed millions of young children to hold in his lap. For the promise of being “good” the child would be awarded with a present especially for them. Once they had completely bought into the Great Santa Cabal they were indoctrinated in the ways of the Claus.(A Danish name that translates to Claws in English) When they reach the appropriate age they are given the truth and then sworn to secrecy. If they should tell their younger sibling the truth it would cost them two limbs and an internal organ. Hence the greatest conspiracy in the world has begun. An the new leader of this conspiracy is Daria’s teacher, Mr. Thomas. That’s right Mr. Thomas I am calling you pout here on wordpresss for the world to see. Be afraid, be very afraid Thomas because I’m coming for you. Don’t doubt me Thomas. I will make your life miserable for destroying the dreams of an innocent and once happy child who has been stripped of the one thing she needs. Her Daddy’s trustworthiness.
In the end, to lie is human, to forgive divine. We lie to avoid unpleasant situations, we lie to avoid hurting peoples feelings, and we lie to have our childhood dreams stay alive just a little bit longer. Lies don’t have to hurt, but they can. Choose your lies wisely because the bad ones can come back to bite you in the ass. Honesty is the absence of lies, it’s having the integrity and sincerity to give the proper and necessary information to one who needs it and filter out the unnecessary. That’s the truth!!…………PEACE

Is That All There Is?

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Death After Death…part 2
By J. T. Hilltop

I started down the steps I had just recently negotiated in an odd mix of fear and curiosity. Halfway down I stopped and looked back up to ask one more question. Nothing was there, I was alone. The image, my Mom, my daughters, my love, my friends everyone I ever cared about gone. They had all disappeared and I was alone with a notion. The notion that something was at the bottom of the staircase and that something was the truth. What is truth? Is truth law? What will truth reveal? Is truth unchanging or ever changing? Can I choose a dare instead of truth? Will it set me free? Does truth have feeling? Can I handle the truth? Will I find the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? And most importantly, are all these questions even necessary??? I’m just going to go on down to the bottom and find out!
Yes, I had my answer. Go downstairs and find out what truth is. I proceeded cautiously not knowing if truth was an entity, a concept, or a trap. Now that would be just about right, to fall into a trap after all this bullshit. But what else was there to do, ask more questions? So on to the bottom of the stairs.
As I climbed downward I noticed that the staircase was spiral. But it wasn’t a spiral before. Or was it? Whatever, its time to bribe the piper, to face the joyous sounds expressed through musical instruments, time to get on the hippie multiple person transport vehicle and find out for myself. When I reached the bottom of the staircase no one was there, just a huge blackboard with some drawings and equations scrawled across it. There was a picture of a DNA strand, a helix, and a diagram of a Nautilus shell, diagrams of various ferns, flowers and plants all spiral in shape, an some sort of segment worm curled up tight. Tacked onto the top of the blackboard were 3 aerial photographs of massive storms. On the other side of the board was all numbers, or rather symbols numbers and fractions and such. A math geeks dream. There were some I recognized like 3.14159265359, which I knew was pi, multiples of nine showing how each quotient adds back up to nine, (9×2=18..1+8=9,9×3=27..2+7=9..etc), as well as a series of equations that could not possibly be more foreign to me. Perhaps even Einstein would have found area amongst his quizzical locks to scratch his head and ponder its meaning. That said….What the Fuck?? What is all this shit supposed to mean to me? This is the fucking truth? I didn’t understand a single bit of it. But I knew it would give me the answer to my…….Jesus shit I don’t even remember the question. Not sure if it was what is life all about or what is death all about. Something important was in front of me so I decided I should give it a stab with the images and leave the math problem for the end. I looked closely at the image of the giant storms from an aerial view, the nautilus, and the ferns and realized that they were all spiral in shape. Just like the damn staircase. Come to think of it the DNA strand and helix are two spirals intertwined. I looke to the spiral formed by the segment worm all curled up. Then I thought about a milky way galaxy photo I had seen before. Out loud to no one I blurted out, “Holy fuck, its about spirals, like the fucking galaxy. That’s it!! The truth is spirals. Spirals!” I was overjoyed for about ten seconds until the next thought hit me. What the fuck do spirals have to do with anything? Again I spoke to no one. “Yea, that’s it, spirals. But that’s what?? I still don’t get it, and I will never get what the fuck those stupid equations mean.” I stared up at the board and was startled when the no one I had been speaking to spoke in a sort of scratchy and almost squeaky voice.. “You’re right, it is spirals. Even the equation is spiral, the golden spiral. I am quite impressed that your scientists and mathematicians have figured it out. Your people have learned much, and have lost me a lot of bets. This logarithm, Pi, the DNA, all of the math up there is not an accident, it’s more like my signature. Like a watermark you use, or a hologram, the math is like a hidden code that I myself scripted into your universe. It ensures proof to all the other universe makers that this one here is mine. I call my universe ‘Omnia Etares”. The signature spirals appear everywhere. Your galaxy is a spiral, your DNA is a spiral, storms, shells, everything. That’s what happens when atoms collide, the energy shoots out from both sides of the explosion in a whirlpool fashion forming a spiral.. Why even this universe itself is spiral JT. I know common belief is there is no end an the term uni even translate to one, but I assure you, your universe ends and its not the only one. Better term would be multiverse” I was so stunned to hear a voice I barely even processed what he had said let alone had the where withal to wonder how he knew my name. When I turned to see who was talking to me I was speechless.
Not a tall slender long-haired man as one might expect a creator or godlike truth teller to be, this was a rather diminutive and non athletic man with tightly curled short black hair. His nose was too big for his oblong face and he had what seemed a chronic case of chin stubble in a futile attempt at appearing cool. Not at all what I would expect as a creator, he seemed more like a tech geek at a Radio Shack or Best Buy. He was dressed the part of a scientist in a lab coat complete with black glasses, pencil behind the ear, and clipboard in hand.. He stared at me blankly as if he were completely done talking and I should just be assuring him I understood what he had said. But clearly I didn’t get it. “You? You’re God, you are the creator?” The tone of my voice was way too obvious in its incredulousness and cynicism. He did not look the least bit offended however and gave me an all too familiar condescending smile. “Not what you were expecting JT? Tell me what a creator looks like and I’ll see what I can do to make you feel more at ease.” I glared at him defiantly, “Well I certainly didn’t expect the creator to be so sarcastic, nor did I think it would be a nerd. What should I call you anyway, Mr. Grand Creator of everything? That sounds awfully egocentric for a humble End all be all.” This time his smile was more genuine. “Now who’s being sarcastic? My name would be way to foreign to you so when you call me you can call me Al.” I couldn’t resist the Paul Simon reference and I replied with a chuckle, “like I can be your bodyguard and you can be my long lost friend?” He looked at me puzzled and with an air of confusion said, “No.. Al, as in Albert Einstein. I am a physicist too but far beyond any humans abilities. Einstein did come close however, so I just go by Al for you humans. I was the one who collided the atoms that formed the ‘Big Bang’ your people have been talking about.” I stared in total disbelief, “Wait Al, I need to sit down and sort this through.” My new friend, teacher, guru, and I assume Sherpa Al gave me a chair.
Al allowed me about ten minutes to gather my thoughts. “ Maybe I should start at the beginning JT. I am a scientist from a very different universe. In my universe the scientists create universes by colliding atoms. At some point they may even be able to create one here on your earth with one of those, what do you call them, particle accelerators, the Large Hadron Collider.” I was now starting to understand. “You mean like the one in Switzerland for CERN right? Some sort of underground tube ride for atoms that cost a few billion dollars and is supposed to make the scientific community all warm and fuzzy and shit. The Higgs Bosen God thingy. They are gonna recreate the …” It hit me. “Holy shit, the big fucking bang! They are going to create a new fucking universe down there!“ Al rolled his eyes, looking more like a parent than a creator. “Put that way it seems less relevant, but yes that’s where it may happen. I hope they know what to do if they are successful. A universe expanding underground will get pretty messy. Anyway, They actually do a lot more than just that down there, they are gathering all kinds of information they believe will help them understand their universe.” My head was spinning and I was beginning to wonder if this was maybe some weird ass dream or something. “Hold on there Al, your getting way ahead of me here. Lets go back a bit. Back to your signature thing. Are you telling me you created the universe and then invented pi, and those other math equations as a way of claiming this universe as your own? Sorry but this shit sounds ridiculous.”
This creator, this Al dude, had begun pacing by the blackboard rubbing his head and I assumed he was planning his answers. Once a scientist always a scientist I guess. Finally he spoke, “Okay JT, first I’ll tell you about my role in this and then we can get to the truth you search for so you can move on.” The phrase move on was disconcerting. What the fuck did he mean by that? Perhaps I would be better off stalling him, but fuck that, then I’ll have to stay in this…..this classroom or whatever. I shut up and let him continue. “So this is hard stuff to understand and I really don’t think its important to you but here goes. I am a universe scientist. Quantum physics is only scratching the surface. Everything is in constant motion but on such a minute level its imperceptible even to microscopes. Like tiny vibrations. You believe an atom is the smallest thing around, but its not .Energy is. In our labs we create energy and form them into tiny things which you call atoms. It gives the energy mass, or substance. Inside this, let me call it a ball of energy, I placed these math equations to be constant throughout. Placed them in each of two atoms and had them spin at speeds that make light seem slow. When those two balls of energy collided they created an explosion. It starts out very small, but like all explosions grew outwards. That’s your universe, or actually my universe. To one of the energy balls we add some carbon and hydrogen to the other which is how life is formed. So in essence, I created you and every living thing you have ever known. We can’t control life we only create it.Life takes its own direction. Every living thing in this universe began with one single cell. In this single cell oranism was my signature math equations an instructions on duplicating. Sometimes they just duplicate themselves out of extinction and other times, like on earth, two organisms collide and form a multi-cell organism, which creates the male and female structure. After that its all logarithmic growth creating diversity at every split. You are a rather tiny and irrelevant part of it, but all universes experience forms of life and yours happens to be the one with a brain capable of reasoning so I explain to those I think can handle it how it is they got here. For whatever reason humans have an innate sense of wonder and a desire to understand that so strong its driven many of you mad. I believe it was when you left the water and began to form a brain some billions of your years ago. Over time that brain grew in size and became able to actually think and reason. So once I tell you your truth, you can go on and become part of the matter of the universe again. Who knows, maybe part of you will form a new star, or comet.”
Al looked in my eyes an knew much of what he told me was above my pay grade. He shrugged his shoulders an aid, “so that’s that. Now what about that truth you want to know?” Once the confusion subsided anger began to set in. This unworthy looking god pretender claims to have created everything and called me insignificant! This shit can‘t be real. “No way, no fucking way am I buying all this bullshit. This is some kind of bad dream or nightmare or something and you’re not real. I ate something that is fucking up my system and giving me this piece of shit dream. All this shit about colliders and spirals an equations is all bullshit. I live in the mother fucking information age and this is just bacon cheeseburger Google overload. It’s the price I pay for being in the information age, cruising down the information highway guzzling beer and chomping on cheeseburgers and fries. Once I fell asleep this weird ass nightmare began with that happy place upstairs. You must represent Hell.”
Exhausted from my tirade I sat down again. Al stared at me then shook his head. He seemed ever so slightly frustrated with me but kept a cool even demeanor. “ I assure you this is not a dream, there is no Hell, and I am real. Well real in the abstract anyway. My look and mannerism are manifestations you created in order to understand better. If you saw and heard what I truly was it would as you say, blow your mind. Listen JT you were not living in the information age, the true information age began long ago and what you are in is more of an information overload age. Your concept of time isn’t completely accurate so I don’t expect you’ll understand that, but I will explain as much as I can for you. You are not even living at all anymore but that’s beside the point. Because I have grown fond of your species I try to at least satisfy the driving force of questioning that exemplifies your species. You think you have acquired so much information you can just will all you have learned in a dream? That my dear boy is what you call bullshit. You haven’t. Stay seated my boy because I am about to tell you things about dreams and information that will challenge almost everything you think you know. Your species reaching this far is somewhat of an anomaly and does not happen often. It was a series of bizarre and incredible coincidences that got your species to where it is and that’s why your kind fascinate me so much. Put on your safe body fastening strap because your in for an uneven terrain traveling destination.” I did remain seated, and began to worry. “Okay Al, I’m ready, bring on the bumpy ride.

1-2-3-4, I Declare A Cupcake War

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The EB gives it 2 thumbs down

Near about every day someone will say to me “You guys should be on Cupcake Wars.” Like this is our magic bullet and it will make Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes blow up huge! Well intended advice but total bullshit. But this is something I’m used to. I owned a small restaurant before I began my journey toward cupcake excellence. Everyone unfamiliar with the restaurant industry seems to know exactly what will make a restaurant successful. Owners get advice on a daily basis. “You know what you should do? You need to put this rice lasagna my Mom makes on the menu. I’m telling you, everybody loves it. You’ll make a fortune.” Others offer up their own personal recipes for various dishes. Yet they came to eat in my houe so I believe there should be a presumption that I am in possession of numerous recipes of my own. They freely explain how carrying this beverage or serving that fish on your menu is “what you need.” I wonder if they made suggestions to an electrician, or a carpenter. “Hey, use the green wires more, people really like that. You know if you use copper nails it will last longer.“ Or even worse, tell a doctor how best to treat an ailment. “You know if you prescribe more valiums you will have happier patients.“ (yea, that was my advice but I really think that one will work!) After all now that we have WebMD so who needs a professional? Now we can treat ourselves. The food business is something easy. That’s how they know all about. Why the hell they don’t have their own restaurant? When I had a restaurant I got more advice than Dr. Phil gives in an entire season. So now that I’m a cupcake engineer and no longer a chef, they advise me to get on cupcake wars. Just do that and I will become famous.
The truth is I have been asked, over 3 time now and when first told about Cupcake Wars I was quite naïve about the show . When I was asked to be in Cupcake Wars it conjured up an image of troops of small cakes slugging it out on battlegrounds like wood tables covered in flour, stainless steel tables, and gigunda mixing bowls. The combatant cakes are outfitted camouflage cupcake liners and carrying the appropriate weaponry of any kitchen worth its baking soda. Duking it out with war tools such as knives, spoons, whisks, spatulas, an rolling pins. They engage in fierce battles smashing innocent cakes in the process and await the reinforcement of the heavy artillery. In come the big machines. The food processors, power mixers, batter dispensers, and enormous rotating ovens. The cupcake war escalates into a shock and awe campaign as huge flames arise from the oven hearth and extreme heat takes over the war theater. The sound of forced gasses and flickering flames fill the air and the smell of burning gas penetrate the prep area as wafts of thin white smoke billow off the carbon etched, war torn cupcake pans. Cupcakes have declared war!
What’s next, Teddy Bear Battles? Hello Kitty Conflicts? How can anything as sweet and innocent and so amazingly tasty and satisfying possibly be involved in a war? Obviously I knew it wasn’t really a cupcake war but it did in fact warrant a little investigation. So on to Google and then Wikipedia where I found out that Cupcakes Wars is a reality based competition show on The Food Network. Reality based? What the hell does that even mean? Armed with this information I felt compelled to take it to the next level. The only sensible course of action for me was to engage in an activity that is extremely rare for me. When I got home I turned on the TV and tunes into The Food Network to watch the show.
Watching the Food Channel is rare? Most people are indeed shocked to find out that I so rarely ever watch The Food Network. They get very indignant and question me as if we were in the Culinary Inquisition. “But you’re a chef, how can you not watch The Food Network?” Apparently it’s the responsibility of a chef to watch shows about what they do for a living. It turns out the Food Network is designed to entertain people in all walks of life who have more than a passing interest in food, and not a network designed for chefs to share recipes and ideas. My response to them is “If I was a plumber, do you think that after plumbing all day long I would want to go home and watch shows about nothing but plumbing?” The truth is if the network were really designed to entertain chefs it would be mostly about inept waiters and waitresses during epic fails while the sweat saturated kitchen staff laughs so hard their ass bones begin loosening. That’s something I might watch. When I finish a long hard day in the kitchen and I sit down to relax the last thing I want to see is more kitchen. Give me serial killers, lawyers. Doctors and nurses, detectives, or even makers of meth. (Although techniquely the meth does get cooked!) I want to escape the world that I work in for sometimes 14 hours a day. I look towards TV to take me away from my ay to day an entertain me by allowing me to escape into new realms. But I needed to know what this Cupcake Wars was all about.
Needing to understand the concept of cupcake wars for myself I watched an entire show which fro me at least, was a tedious process. It turns out its not a war at all, but a competition between bakers based on an age old culinary tradition, the Mystery Basket. The mystery basket has been used for years to help teach young culinarians skills and to hone their creative process and resourcefulness. Its even used when a chef goes for a certification. The chef is given a basket, or tray these days, with an assortment of foods on it and they are asked to create complete meal, appetizer, entrée, and dessert using everything on the tray as well as some of the basic ingredients in the pantry. They are given a specific time constraint and they are judged on taste, presentation, and creativity. Quite often these days mini mystery baskets are a stage of the interview process where the potential employer may get a chance to investigate your style of cooking, your ability to prepare and blend flavors, and how well you work under pressure. I have always felt this somewhat ineffective and a waste of time because if your resume will reflect your style and capabilities. I have had to perform a few of these interviews and for me it was easy because improvisational cooking has always been my strongest suit. For many others who are equally as talented but may be the type who prefer to carefully plan an document their course of preparation (like an accountant may) the challenge could present unfair advantage to my loosey goosey cooking style. But is is a barometer of how well one can think on their feet an it is a great learning tool.
The major difference in the game how however is that other factors come into play. Drama and conflict. Without these two gratuitous concepts the show would be of little interest and as fast paced as watching a snail running from a French chef. They pit 4 pairs of culinary bakers, most of which own their own shops, against each other and try to create a diverse cross section of cute young entrepreneurs, grouchy old lifelong bakers, and some serious cupcake makers hoping to create their dynamic business venture into an overnight success via winning the contest. They are judged by 3 wannabe American Idol judges, a European who can be testy and sharply critical, (Le Simon). an everyone wins because I’m okay your okay compassionate woman who hasn’t a mean bone in her body, (Le Paula) and an influential guest judge that has a vested interest in the winner as they will usually hire the winner for a “special event”. (Le rotating Randy)
For me the show is part of a larger sub-culture of entertainment that portrays an industry I have vested way too many years in, and worked way too hard at to see turned into a novelty act. In my day chefs worked their asses off, put in ridiculous amounts of hours in, and earned enormous respect due to their talent and integrity. Now potential chefs graduate culinary school and hope to get a TV show. Granted it is entertaining to its demographic but to me it reduces my life’s work into a slugfest of personalities where its not the most creative and flavorful food that wins, but the best personality or the most manipulative. They attempt to increase the viewer enjoyment by creating challenges through forcing the usage of unusual products. That’s great if the challenge is meaningful, but to put things like tobacco, or nacho cheese and hot dogs is just for sheer enjoyment and not a creativity challenge. I get it, it’s very popular and has millions of viewers, but even if one make a great cupcake, if they have no TV presence they can leave the show scarred as a loser. And even those who win will experience a spike of popularity, and business will grow out of curiosity, but most times it isn’t long lasting. I want a solid business grown on strong principles and hard work. But if you do ever hear of a show that wants to showcase an honest existential cupcake poet, give me a call. Or better yet, I’ll get some people and you can call my peeps……..PEACE

Memoirs of a Hippie Chef (an excerpt)

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

If You Can’t Stand The Heat
It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to the fecal matter hitting the rotary oscillator, but Cavalieri’s closing was a lot to deal with and the furthest thing from my mind. No longer was I an apostle to a culinary madman, no more waitresses to flirt with, no more free beers. I was now saturated with disappointment and disillusionment. I knew I needed to seek another avenue of employment. I needed to shed the dry snakeskin of the restaurant industry and turn out to something else. I needed to get far away from any kitchen or Chef or waitress. I need a sacrificial rack of lamb. I should do what James did back in his time and work the fields. As fate would have it and timing being everything my brother’s ex boss owned a landscaping company, and needed a laborer. So it came to pass that I had became the new landscaper for Mundies Field and Dreams. More accurately put, I had become the new lawn mowing leaf raking topsoil carrying shit spreader. I had chosen to become a hard working laborer and have my skin scorched everyday by burning threats the sun makes good on, while enjoying the hearty aroma of freshly decayed organic manure. Enough abut the perks though; let me tell you about the downside. Everyday ended the same, my arm and back muscles pound out a rebellious beat building to a painful crescendo. As I reach to cool my aches and pains with a cold beer it seem as though all my muscles tightened up into ball of overworked subdermal tissues and tendons screaming at every movement. My skin radiates a pinkish aura from hours spent unprotected by those relentless threats of the harsh sun. It left my neck and shoulders feeling rug burnt adding to my misery. As if that weren’t enough, the omnipresent stench of decaying crap had implanted its neverending stink carousel deep into my nasal cavity. Out on the field, one of my less enviable jobs was to take compost, Mundies name for decayed animal shit, and spread it across a field. First the smell of evaporating morning dew so earthy and rich comes up off the ground like a wisp of warm steam in a tease just waiting for its replacement. Breathe deep and enjoy nature while it lasts because within seconds comes the dank aroma of compost. Its a blend of some of the most offensive smells I could ever imagined. Once dumped on the ground, the aromas of a horse stable had a meeting with a quarantined bathroom, and then joined forces with spoiled milk to create a cacophony of disgust that slowly crept up my nose and made an all out assault on my entire being.. There it would stay for hours even after my day was done. A rank reminder of my newly acquired hopelessness that was eased, but not eradicated by the beer.
Partying had come to a new intersection as well. Turn right and head up the morphine highway that was one step away from the dreaded H. Heroin, horse, dope. A dangerous path to be sure but as long as we kept just to the pills it seemed okay. To the left was an array of uppers and downers that had become much too routine for us. From the ritual of lighting up to the ritual of popping pills. Ken was in big demand and was spending way way too much time with Artie. As for me, I was required to wake up early 6 mornings a week. But I had every night free to do whatever I chose. I had begun spending more and more money on drugs, supplying not only my head but Carries as well. And many evenings I took care of Sue as well because Ken was always out copping drugs. I had begun doing diet pills every morning to keep me awake and give me the energy to bust my ass out in the shit fields. On days that it rained I would be sent home and not make any money for the day. I quickly went through my savings after a week of solid rain. The summer was coming to an end, I was making less money, and soon it would be too cold to do landscaping. I couldn’t remember how the fuck I got here, but what I did know wad that I needed to get the fuck out soon.