Culinary Nirvana Takes Center Stage

 

(From Zen And The Art Of Culinary Maintenance by J. T. Hilltop)

Working in a restaurant at age 14 was more than just a J.O.B., it was a spiritual transcendence. It was being part of something that lifted an entire staff of “Restaurant People” to a higher plane. At that impressionable age I was fortunate enough to find myself in the employ of Cavalieri’s restaurant in the socially envious position of pot washer. Four nights after school, and Saturday nights, I was the head pot washer. But, being the envy of my high school buddies was short lived when I discovered that the “head pot washer” had nothing to do with pot and even worse, I wasn’t really in charge of anything other than some sudsy water that involved way more than merely washing pots. I was also permitted, implored even, to use my hands to scrape and clean the organic food remnants and other indefinable residues left on the plates by our satisfied customers. So it was that this head pot washer was cleaning everything that anyone found so objectionable it was left on the used plates in the restaurant. Poised at the suds busting helm I decided that I was going to be the best Goddam pot washer they ever had.
On one particular night an epiphany of sorts smacked me in the head so I felt compelled to let everyone in the kitchen know my lofty intentions of becoming a black belt in the art of pot and pan scrubbery. When I told the chef, the sensei, the absolute ruler of the kitchen of my plan I was certain he would beam with pride. I really looked up to the chef even though he was so old. Man that dude must have been in his 50’s. I believe he always worked hard and the years had been kind to him, although not without consequence. Deep furrows stretched into spaghetti lines across his face, and he always seemed to be deep in thought even when he was drinking. I noticed he was quite fit for an old dude, and he was deceptively strong. Crazy coot could throw 50 pound bags of potatoes halfway across the kitchen with ease. Sometimes directly at me! He always wore a dirty and tattered black bandana which concealed the badly receding headline and his eyebrows sported the thickest hair he had. Like angry caterpillars on steroids those eerie brows housed some very dark and serious eyes. Eyes that narrowed instantly at the first sign of anger. Like holy shit man it wasn’t only the eyes but that bulging vein that stood out and threatened me personally. Eyebrows that said grab a scour pad you insignificant piece of shit the are dirty pots to be assimilated. Every second I prayed it wasn’t the angry face that was building up inside his maniacal mind but the funny one. Not siree it was not the anger I was about to get a full emasculating dose of. He looked me directly in the eyes and with his most compassionate paternal demeanor his eyebrows alloed his eyes to tear up as he laughed uncontrollably. A laugh that came all the way from the balls of his feet. In between his deafening guffaws the chef attempted to tell his sous chef Andre what my intentions were, and that was met with a roar of laughter that could cause a soufflé to fall to it‘s knees. Regardless of their snickering daggers of contemptuous chuckling I maintained a stiff upper lip, and decided I would take charge of my own soapy destiny.
The fuck with them! As empowering as it may seem it wasn’t the joy of busting suds for a living that kept me coming back. It wasn’t the dream of one day being admired, no revered as the Chef Ultimate, the absolute ruler of the kitchen. It wasn’t that soul warming food, it wasn’t even the lure of the attractive and flirtatious waitresses that continually tempted my teenage libido with a false sense of possibilities beyond imagination. No, there was something else about this experience that taunted my inner Cheshire cat. They paid me money so I could but weed.
So despite all the bad karma that seeped out of the sink drain I thought nothing could possibly drag me away from the restaurant industry. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be the Chef, and become a raving lunatic who screams at anyone dumb enough to stay within ear range of my booming voice. An insane Guru who proudly sports a tall white hat accentuated by a bulging forehead vein that popped out with ease whenever challenged. A slightly touched man who is permitted by law to carve carcasses with an array of razor sharp knives of all sizes. I can’t help thinking how proud that would make Mom and Dad. Oh the hell with the Stock Exchange Mom, I wanna make Chicken veloute and dine of foie gras. Trade in the stock market returns for recipes. I want to carry big ass knives around. My gastronomic voyage would be completed once I became the all powerful illustrious Chef
Anyway that was the dream. Truth be told the restaurant industry simply jumped up at me and shouted “This is it” Este Este Este!!. This is what you ask? It was the people, the “restaurant people”, an almost cosmic group of mix matched misfits. I was spellbound by this diverse group of dedicated individuals who work together in a form of impromptu performance art centering around biodegradable remnants of the tastiest and most orgasmic morsels of nutrition I had ever indulged in. Each person plays an integral role in this drama. Like an experienced stage hand I set up the props over and over so the chef could turn organic ingredients into edible works of art, perfectly arranged on the plate I had cleaned. Our lead waitress, Laura would put six of these recently cleaned, now presently food adorned plates on a large oval tray, also cleaned by yours truly, and with swanlike grace effortlessly carry it off to be placed in front of some more than likely alcohol saturated patrons. The patrons would then eat the wonderful dish of blissful organic delight, inadvertently leaving something on the plate that would eventually become my responsibility. The waitress would entertain them with a variety of skits, ranging from cute and flirtatious to downright suggestive. The performance continues. Meanwhile, backstage the chef, Jimmy ( his given name was too hard to pronounce) is performing voice exercises and using my deer in headlight eyes as his focal point. Rapidly building to an everlasting crescendo I listen intently to the chefs advice, disregarding the part where he assures me I should either procreate with myself or leave this God forsaken establishment. Or die. Sufficiently emasculated, red-faced, and disenchanted, I returned to my potsink in a highly evolved state. Taking a “the show must go on” attitude, I needed to ready myself for the onslaught of table remnants that our patrons found objectionable. In walked the lovely leading lady, flashing me that piercing knee buckling waitress smile, and began emulating the chefs thunderous performance. Thankfully, it was not directed at me, but rather on the only person here that was truly as lowly as I am, Rod the busboy. Now I got an opportunity to view my peer’s reaction to a brutal lexiconic workover, so I might hone my anti-beration skills for the next portioning of verbal abuse. It would not take long, and I unfortunately had little time to study my new mentor, so I was left to my improvisational skills. The burning narrowed eyes of my dream vision, the waitress, met mine and for just a few seconds held me in a frozen state. While flashing her signature seductive smile, Laura’s eyes softened, and in that songbird like voice, she asked, “JT, will you set up my next tray?” With a wink, she was gone, the busboy was fighting back tears, the chef was deciding my fate, and I of course, was oblivious to anything that didn’t involve setting up Laura’s tray like it had never been set before. As the chef pondered the proper selection of various swear words and insults in his bi-lingual assault ability to more effectively crush my spirit, I arranged Laura’s tray smiling silently. The chef began to explain to me who I was working for, but fortunately for me his lung busting performance was interrupted by the appearance of anther equally as enigmatic presence. The next character to enter, stage left, was a tall, tuxedoed, and very suave Frenchman bearing the title of restaurant manager. Didier. Didier’s job, as I understood it, was to make the entire cast so miserable we would reach deep down to our inner selves and come up with the performance of a lifetime. I wanted to reach deep down and pull out a Smith and Wesson but then again, I was young and impressionable back then, and of course a pacifist commie bastard, so I did indeed find myself motivated by the threat of that French penguin. Not to mention another opportunity to allow Laura to know that I may be way young, but I am also an awesome dude willing to please. Didier began to roar at all of us, and yet then again, to no-one in particular. It was delivered in a language foreign to me that sounded oddly complementary. Rod the busboy assured me that those seemingly sweet words that came thundering out towards the entire cast were in fact foul vulgar French slang that could make the onions break down and cry. As Didier loudly and cantankerously explained to us how important it was that we comprehend the significance of his tirade most of us merely trembled. Even Jimmy looked worried when Didier was in the kitchen. Oddly the only one that was not intimidated was Laura, my fantasy vivacious waitress, who seemed to render our fearful leader speechless using only her eyes. Or was it her gorgeous thighs? No matter like the Wicked Witch of the West Didier disappeared in a puff of smoke. Or maybe Jimmy was burning something, I really don’t remember. But he was gone, Laura’s tray was set to absolute perfection, Rod the busboy had regained his composure, and Jimmy was ready with the next round of tantalizing treats arranged in artwork on my clean plates. All had performed admirably in Act I, but Act II is yet to come. Rush hour, when the dining rooms reaches maximum capacity, the pressure elevates, tempers hone their skills, and back in the kitchen the shit really hit’s the exhaust fans..
TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Training My Puppy To Be Existential

 

 

This is Bailey, a puppy we adopted just before Christmas, thus naming him George Bailey. He dropped the George because he felt it too cumbersome for such a cute little canine. He was a rescue but truth be told we rescued each other. Two Dark souls who feel like the Universe is against them. The main difference is while Bailey has the youthful energy and exuberance of a child, I have reached a point where energy has been replaced by wisdom. A clever way to describe finally getting it after you’re too old to use it. Either way, it has become my responsibility to raise my puppy as an existentially evolved wolf.

 

So I have been tasked with teaching this cute little Labee (a term coined by some hipster Millennial with a ManBun describing a mix between a Labrador Retriever and a Beagle) to become an enlightened and existential canine. TBT, he already has a good grasp on some basic existential concepts, such as the importance of the self. He clearly accepts the fact that his self is the center of his universe. Unfortunately he also has a firm grasp on possessions with his sharp teeth and strong jaw. This habit is far more about anarchy than existentialism, but still the insignificance of ownership of material objects is an important facet of understanding existentialism. Like most canines politics are important to the pack mentality. Come to think about it, he views me not as his owner, but more like his Socialist Government who distributes food drink and shelter in return for a modicum of loyalty.

 

Spending most of his time with his Hippie counter-culture grandpa, a few unusual dog training methods were bound to be instituted. I had to train him to be a canine and also to survive in a humans world. First things being first I had to teach him some basic dog rules. The first rule of the dog world is all about common canine decency. Rule One I had to teach him was never ever, no matter how much undigested food there is in another dogs stool, you don’t eat other dogs shit! His nose sniffs the ground near an opposing canines unpicked up fecal matter like it’s a huge line of cocaine with a bonus at the end. Most trainers offered advice like say “leave it” or “stay away” while tugging gently on his leash. But again, being a Hippie grandpa I choose to use my own commands. I yell “Bong Water” and pull him away. Why? Because if you have ever woken up after an evening of massive bong hits in a mental haze of fog with the driest cotton mouth you’ve ever experienced and accidentally drank the liquid contents in your bong you will understand how ridiculously disgusting “Bong Water” tastes. For me it was one of the most objectionable tastes ever so to say it as my dog is about to partake of something gross it just seemed fitting.

 

Thing is dogs don’t understand our language, just the words we use. If you constantly say stand when you really want them to sit they won’t stare at you and correct your grammar, they will follow the command according to the words used to train and reinforce the desired result. A sharp loud “Dude” tells Bailey to pay attention to me. The softer “Here Little Dude” lets him know I’m pulling a Milk Bone from my pocket. It’s hard breaking through because Bailey is going through a self awareness crisis, I throw a ball and the Labrador in him chases it while the Beagle in him refuses to give it back. It creates a game of distrust and keep away that perplexes us both. Anyway, time to get back to my Existentialism Canine Training.

 

It was very difficult to get Bailey to understand the concept of all dogs don’t go to heaven because existentially heaven doesn’t exist for any of us. All the dogs in the neighborhood are counting on this concept but the truth is it’s just a rumor started by a Pitt Bull from down the block. This has made my existential training from the canine philosophical point of view somewhat difficult. To explain his separation from his earthly existence is quite a challenge. His sense of reason seems non existent. I can’t figure out why he does some of the crazy things he does. For instance, he will chew twigs and eat dirt but then stare at me for giving him what he considers to be shit dogfood. And the shit is like mostly chicken, because the first time I bought him food with too much grain in it the young store cashier looked at me like I was a piece of gluten. If eyes could spoil a dinner, I’d have been a meal in the garbage.

So I continue to hope, launching into philosophical dissertations as we walk I express my thoughts about God, existence, and living in a Kafkaesque world. I’m guessing it will take a lot of profound monologues to break down the thousands of years of evolution both our species have experienced aside from having gone through much of it together in a symbiotic relationship. So for now I suppose I’ll just have to be satisfied with repeating quotes from Sartre and Camus, while expressing my deep love of Hermann Hesse works and my affinity for Kierkegaard while we go out on our adventures in the suburban jungle. At least he gives me the courtesy of pretending he gets me…. Live and Love in Peace

 

 

Total Destruction, Only Solution (J. T. Hilltop)

 

 

From Cosmo and The Garden Earth.
When last seen, Cosmo was pissed about the dinosaur behavior ruining his garden…….

One morning while sipping some of his favorite caffeinated breakfast beverage, Thors Thunderbolt, Cosmo noticed some strange things happening in his garden Earth. His jumbo dinosaur creatures appeared to be having unusually sloppy sex and puddles of love juice were forming lakes. Also they had become far less discreet as to who’s appendage fit into which aperture. The gigantic creatures were rolling around crushing everything in their way. Tree’s toppled, boulders rolled all the way to Colorado, and even volcanoes had become stopped up with goo. And the moaning, oh my Cosmo it was so loud and frightening. Of course with Planned Parenthood not yet created it was no time before Pangaea became over crowded with giant baby creatures. Not to mention the swamps of dino-sperm on the Easter egg hunt. With the creation of inter-species fuckfests some creative mutations began taking effect resulting in a array of new characteristics. They were larger, wider, more angry, and exceedingly clumsy. Cosmo sensed some other major adaptations taking hold, fortunately nor including longer arms for T Rex.
The sex also seemed to make the creatures extremely hungry and they were eating twice the normal amount of his marvelous Flora. Many seemed to favor this one particular bush, or rather one particular weed, which seemed to give them even more voracious appetites but also made them sort of smile. Cosmo won’t swear to it but he believed munching the weed made his creatures laugh. At the very least they smiled more than the ones that didn‘t partake. Narcosaurs mostly. He wondered if it was co-incidence or if it was because of his cannabis bush causing the effects so he took a few homegrown plants to try himself. He decided he would let them dry out and smoke some with a bottle of Pinot Nuetron after dinner. As he continued to survey Pangaea another curious practice was observed. The creatures seemed to be fighting each other over sex, which was not really a colossal deal but it appeared that the winners where actually eating the losers as some sort of carnivorous prize. Believing it to be from the cannabis he referred to the practice as canibisalism. He opted not to try smoking the enticing weed just yet afraid of what it may make him want to do. The eating of the other creatures as a diet instead of just vegetation also made the meat eaters even bigger and stronger. He would need to keep an eye on these developments.
As time passed more and more creatures were killing each other and eating the remains. And damn were they multiplying. They engaged in sex virtually everyday and babies were everywhere. It was like some kind of Dino-nursery. Every day there seemed to be more and more, and nearly all the vegetation had been eaten. Not only that but they began biting kicking and scratching each other for no apparent reason. Many fights seemed to be over who had more dangling under their tail or who was going to screw the better looking female dinosaurs. Many times these fights caused some to fall down never to get back up. Cosmo was not happy with these developments at all. His garden of creatures was turning into a giant fight club fiasco. His behemoth experiments were simply much to big and clumsy. He decided he needed to start over and this time start with much more compact set of creatures. First though he needed a plan to extinguish and cover up his dinosaur debacle.
His first plan was to go subterranean. He began to churn up the ground at different points of the land masses of Pangaea. The shifting of dirt created numerous effects. The mass of land split in various places and Pangaea began to break up into smaller lands. A few dinosaurs fell off the edges, but for the most part they rode the land mass that they happened to reside on and just sort of relocated. Two chunks of dirt headed out quickly, one due north and one due south. Each went as far as it could go until it turned into a giant massive iceball. Every dinosaur on these arctic edges froze along with it. The other land masses fared much better. Cosmo now needed names now for the different masses. On the east he named his land masses North Columbia and South Columbia. Way across the newly formed ocean there was a dark mass he called Afrika, and a huge piece he called Eurasia. A smaller mass slipped down under while a very green land went slightly north. He would name them later. As for the dinosaurs they had begun to change and were ironically defined by their land masses. The creatures in North Columbia grew more aggressive body parts, like large razor sharp teeth, pointed spiny tails, and large muscular arms. Military adaptations. Cosmo believed they actually thought themselves superior. Called them Mericans. They tried to force all the others live the way they did. Pretentiousauruses! The dinosaurs in Africa were very wild and it took on a predatory nature of survival of the mightiest. In Eurasisa half fancied themselves the more sophisticated and chic while the other half absolutely excelled in math. They had all begun to mutate body parts that were used as weapons or as protective amour. Spiny heads and necks, horns, shells, claws, Talons, scales and many other features that assisted warfare or survival. They continued cross breeding and a host of new genus’s were born. Now he had some walking on two legs, some on four, some eating only vegetation, some only other dinosaurs, and many eating both. The flying dinosaurs alone mutated into over 500 species. The fights became rampant and more frequent and quite frankly it was pissing Cosmo off a bit. The shifting of the land also had an effect on the once enormous Pangaean sea which was all the water surrounding Pangaea. The other lands had created borders which split the Pangaean sea into vast oceans. New weather patterns and water currents came into play, and many of the places he churned up dirt had formed piles, ranging from tiny molehills to humongous mountains that reached up towards the sky. At first Cosmo tried to make all the dirt piles as majestic as the giant ones but he quickly learned he couldn’t make a mountain out of a molehill.
As time went on things just got worse and worse. The changes in the garden plots were great, but the dinosaurs were out of control. In each land mass they were carrying on and destroying the vegetation, trampling everything in their paths, kicking the everlasting dinosaur shit out of each other. If that wasn’t bad enough the fornicating was maddening. No matter where you looked in the garden you could find many dinosaurs letting it all hang out ready for reproduction. Giant penispods galore. Humping and swamp hopping there was sex going on everywhere. Puddles of sperm gathered that drowned the lower vegetation and while they were knocking horns and creating future fossils it tore up the ground and caused many a fight to the death. Genus were being wiped out, it was a constant state of confusion. The trees they had eaten clear down to the roots. They simply had no respect at all for Cosmo, his garden, or each other and that was the final sipping stick! It was time for a raptor rapture!
The angry Cosmo had had it. He reached up into space and grabbed the biggest asteroid he could hold and hurled it towards earth with all his might. Had it not been an act of destruction one might have thought it a beautiful magnificent sight. Upon impact a huge explosion of colors, bright reds and yellows danced tangos across the planet. A blinding flash of white so brilliant it could be seen as far away as the Tolkien Galaxy. Flames that reached so high they tickled the moon and made it giggle and squirm. Sheer magnifigance. Why it was a fireworks display fit for the gods. But mere minutes after the glowing kaleidoscope of destruction lit up the skies as if to remind everyone that its beauty was marred by violence it was quickly replaced with an ear pounding roar. Bursts of concussion inducing reverberation accompanied the evening festivities with a mushroom plume of billowing smoke dressed in charcoal black from head to toe. A snap. A crackle. A pop. Within seconds garden earth became Earth Krispies. The explosion kicked up an awful cloud of dust with it that pulled the rug of sparkle pomp and circumstance right from under its cosmic ass. For the longest time Cosmo could see nothing but an enormous floating burntout dust bunny. Virtually everything was obscured and he had no clue as to the fate of his living garden below. One thing for sure, if any of the suns rays got through at all it was undetectable. How could anything live without food, without light, without sunshine? Cosmo was absolutely certain he had lost everything. He underestimated the ultra tiny earth dwelling insect known as the cockroach. Will anything kill those bastards?
As time went by the dust began to settle it was becoming apparent not much if anything would survive. Even with only a portion of the dust gone he could see there was not much sign of life. The vegetation tried valiantly to reach back up towards the sun but with limited success. The garden seemed still and void. Even Cosmo couldn’t detect the tiny crawling cockroach foraging at the base of the stringy vines of vegetation. But trust me when I tell you, those cucaracha’s marched on. The once magnificent dinosaurs however were not able to crawl between any cracks let alone march anywhere. A massive open graveyard was all the gardening god could see. Humongous piles of giant carcasses littered the ground and whatever ground that could be seen was scorched to a grayish black. Nary a leaf or a pine cone to be found. Not even a blade of grass on this once animated garden of green and blue. Stacks of bodies and body parts could be seen everywhere with billows of smoke reaching out to the Milky Way cluster. There was a stench quite unfamiliar to Cosmo, charred flesh smelled nothing at all similar to a god BBQ. To call the aroma unpleasant would be an understatement. The forces of fetid decay banded together with burning flesh and gunpowder. The acrid odors began an all out assault that would serve as a rank reminder of the magnitude of failure here. Battalions of rotted mounds of foul fecal sewage mixed with dino debris formed an aerial assault. The army of stench marched up Cosmo’s nose and set up a camp of odoriferous angry troops behind his eyes. Some salted droplets of sorrow snuck down Cosmo’s cheek which he blamed on the carousel of stink spinning in his sinuses. Make no mistake though that was no dew drop, that was a god sized teardrop…..TBC

WONDERLAND

wonderland

 

Sometimes its about nothing more than having some fun.. “A little nonsense now and then, cherished by the wisest men”* (and women)

After a few puffs of herbal hilarity
I had momentary lapse of clarity
Followed a mousey mole
Down a white rabbit hole
Not a worry about mistaking the severity
I was……

Grinning and spinning through the vortex from the beginning
I was Frolicking and following without ever acknowledging
There a was a mushroom and a caterpillar smoking a painkiller
A laughing Phyllis Diller the strange theater was a chiller
Goddam it was like re-watching The Thriller in Manila
With Michael as Pop king and Ali as Godzilla
In short it was Killah I was as high as a Magilla Gorlilla
But…..

Time came for me to move my trippy high ass
But I was pushed or I fell through the looking glass
Filling my head with wonder
What a weird spell I was under
I truly hoped that this groovy high would last and last
Seems kinda crass but that’s all in the past
Because I was……
Floating and laughing down a rainbow river
My liver all a-quiver from a psoriasis giver
If my organs knew how screwed the booze made them shiver
Both my kidney and liver woulda quit liquor much quicker
Still I was just waiting, hallucinating and debating
If my imaginating was the real deal or if I was faking
It was deflatin’……
But whatever I drank made me pulse like a pheromone
Then made me shrink so I’d fit in this dome of a rabbit home
One sign said treat me
The other said eat me
I took them both and the shit really began to heat me
Opps now a retraction the opposite reaction
To my dissatisfaction the drugs caused a contraction
Lights flashing and laughing, splashing and thrashing
Sent my cold soul North of the pole
The icy Arctic circle had me feeling infertile
Time for some soup so I ordered Mock Turtle
Or was that still the herbal?….

Did a shot of Bacardi at one crazy tea party
The majority of the inferiority made a super majority
A march hare in a hat a rodent sleeping on a mat
A jabberwocky and a Tabby doing this and then that
A Cheshire smiling and inspiring that feline was beguiling
Disappearing and fearing until once again reconciling
I nearly shat when I saw only the teeth of that darn cat
He spat like a gnat so I prayed he was spayed
Didn’t know what else to say
So I found my way to a game of croquet….
With flamingo in hand I joined in the Queensland
And a hedgehog I slammed the deck of cards be damned
The spiky round critter not being a quitter
Fluttered and flittered biting the foot of his hitter
I screamed out in pain but all was in vain
The roses once white where painted red once again
I’m not sure what she said but the Heart card in red
Wanted someone dead so said off with his head
I laughed till I peed then fell to my knee
When SMACK……..reality
I simply didn’t see she was talking about me
Time to hightail and flee…….
I know I shouldn’t make this a habit
But once again I followed the white rabbit
My psychotic behavior
Is something to savor
So I just swallowed one more tablet
Cause I like the flavor
Props To Lewis Carroll, this was my absolute fave story as a kid and as a kid/adult. Some people tell me I should grow up but I tried that once and it was the worst ten minutes of my life…. Live and Love in Peace

*Willy Wonka……Special props to Gene Wilder, not even in my rather fertile imagination will there ever be a better Willy Woksa….Good Day Sir!!

 

COSMO AND THE GARDEN EARTH (excerpt from Act III)

act

 

Jesus Christ Superstar Do You Think You’re What They Say You Are?
JT Hilltop

News. North East West South. Good news, bad news, happy news, sad news. All types and in all types of type. There’s tragic news, welcome news, unwelcome news, news, news, news, all kinds of news. Some news has little or no consequence on your life and some comes hurling at you like a shit ton of bricks. So much news it‘s not fit to print. News can make you laugh or cry, chuckle or sigh, scream and die, or wish you could fucking fly. News is unstoppable, it can have no effect on your life or it can cause a drama laden pile of shit upheaval that it will change you forever. But one thing is certain about news and that is its gonna come. News is coming toward you and there ain’t a Goddam thing you can do to stop it. Mary Anne had just this sort of news for the God Cosmo and her news was one of those shit-tons that came on a speeding train out of control heading straight down the track with no one at the wheel. Not even Casey fucking Jones could’ve stopped this bitch train of news and like it or not the news was coming and Cosmo had better be ready. And once this news hits Cosmo’s fan there will shit flying across all the galaxies. The key difference between good or bad news is all in your perspective. “Cosmo my favorite god, the only God I have ever truly loved, I have some good news and some bad news for you and its basically the same. Remember that time we had our romp in the clouds in The District? You filled me up with joy, pleasure, intense feeling and….and a shitload of highly active God-sperm. There is no easy way to say this. You have a baby boy and his names Jesus.” A baby? That’s not your average local planet news, that’s God and Goddess dam intergalactic news! It’s the kind of life altering news that for some is incredible and joyous and to many others it’s indifferent. But for the vast number who get this news for the first time its frightening. It’s the kind of news that will have you running down the street screaming halleluiah I’m gonna be a parent or slam you headfirst into unprepared parenthood. “You have a son” is the very definition of life altering news. “You have a son, his name is Jesus” is beyond life altering, its planet altering, nay universe shaking! Cosmo repeated the name Jesus of Cosmo over to himself more than a dozen times until it finally sunk in that he had a son who is half God, half Non-God.
Now lets put some perspective on this news. Not your ordinary couple and seldom in any of the universes has this type of mixed marriage worked. Mary Anne is a Non-God from a planet in the Babaloo Galaxy who was at one time a God-Toy, or to put it in mortal terms, an erotic escort. Cosmo had paid special attention to Mary Anne and after their weekend fling thought he felt someone else in the room. Little did he know it was just his seedling. Cosmo is the God of The Milky Way Galaxy and was normally very careful on his sexcapades but it only takes one little slip and……well you get the rest. However we must keep in mind that Cosmo has always been a stand up god willing to do the right thing (for a God anyway) as well as quite resourceful. If anyone can put a positive gravitational spin on this news Cosmo could. So this news of baby Jesus would not be taken lightly. First things first let it be known that the moment it sunk in that mary Anne had conceived his only begotten son Cosmo understood his responsibility to both Mary Anne and baby Jesus. As much as he loved his bachelorhood the thought of a solid lifestyle held a degree of appeal to Cosmo. On the other hand Cosmo was quite the lover and never had a problem finding a partner. Yet many a night was spent lonely watching his garden of you mans and Mary Anne would certainly be of interesting company. A God has no qualms about past practices of their mates and frankly he appreciated what she did. Not to mention she is quite skilled at put a huge smile on the virile gods face that weekend. Come to think of it was as if she had surgically implanted that smile for over a week afterwards. Either way the bottom line is he had a baby and a responsibility to both the baby and the non god he had fallen in love with. Wait! What? Fallen in love? Certainly not fallen, perhaps he had stumbled in a profound like with her but love? Come to think of it he did create the fertile crescent while thinking of her beautiful hair (If indeed it was as he claims her head which was the body part he was thinking about). Maybe this news can be used for a positive effect on the three of them and for garden Earth as well. A plan was inseminated and the egg was ready to be hatched. Cosmo knew exactly what to do with the news.
Of course the news is also going to be heard at a Board Co-Operative Gods and Goddesses meeting in District 7. The board is like the gravitational black hole of universal gossip. Nothing escapes it. Whether it’s entertainment, breaking news or even just hearsay, all news that’s fit to print or printed to fit will find its way to District 7 in a radio-active flash. The best thing for Cosmo to do is to have his plan of action fully worked out before they summon him. Some mixed marriages have worked, a god and a non god can live a happy life but many a failure has been scandalized across the universes. With this plan however Cosmo was taking fatherhood to an unprecedented level . He had already sold it on his non god lover who had found herself in a awkward position of being the mother of a gods child. Ironically it was the twisting herself into an awkward position one pleasure soaked night that lead to her situation in the first place. For her part it was difficult to argue with a God to begin with but Mary Anne trusted Cosmo implicitly and his plan seemed to make sense. Truth be told she did have some reservations at first but after thinking the story through a few times it began to grow on her. (The plan….Not the God manhood) Her son would be a savior, a Christ. Her son would be the messiah of Garden Earth. She repeated it to herself, “My son, Jesus Christ, Superstar.”
It was much easier to get the Boards okay than Cosmo had anticipated. Who knows maybe it was his unending charm, maybe they dug the plan, maybe they were just tired of seeing him, or maybe they just wanted the messy scandal over and done post haste. Cosmo laid out in detail how he was going to offer his son as a virginal birth to be the son of Cosmo and help get the you mans to understand that they have strayed from the law of life, and had become a threat to the cycle. He would have a big hullabaloo when the child was born, have him disappear mysteriously while he learns how to teach the word of Cosmo. He will then spread the word of Cosmo and teach all the you mans about the necessity of his cycle of life. Cosmo schemed to find the right woman to impregnate and fake it as a virginal birth. It would go down in you mans history as an immaculate conception and the child would be the son of Cosmo and spread the word. Mary Anne would raise their son Jesus and train him for his mission at the same time. They would stay at an undisclosed location in District 7 where Cosmo could visit on weekends. When Jesus was ready and the time was right he would switch out the child on earth with Jesus and he could bring the you mans back to the path of righteousness. Then he could switch the body double back and everything would be right once again. A pretty brilliant plan if everything goes as it should. If!
The very first problem arose rather early into the plan. Cosmo chose a nice Jewish couple from Nazareth in the city of Galilee. Joseph and Mary. He visited Mary while Joseph was away and worked his sexual magic on her for hours filling her with gallons of egg hungry swimming godsperms. He had Mary believe it was a dream, a very sweet dream, and she would be none the wiser. Of course she became pregnant right away but the snag was in the child she bore. It was a female and Mary named her Rosemary. So he had to make a second attempt after allowing Rosemary to get a few earth years in age. The second attempt was successful after eliminating the x chromosomes from his body fluid. During the night in that session he told Mary he was an angel from the god Cosmo and that she would be giving birth to the son of a god and he would be the savior of the world. But in her dream she heard it as the son God, not the son of A god. When she woke she was even more confused (and satisfied) than the first dream. When she conveyed the story to Joseph he was very suspicious at first. “Wait, you’re telling me Mary that God had sex with you and you are carrying his baby? An angel told you to name him Jesus? And this happened while I was out of town?” Mary was struggling with it as well because the dream seemed so real, but eventually she was able to convince Joseph as well as herself. She told everyone that God has told her to have this immaculately conceived baby and that he was going to save the world. It was met with a cloud of doubt and cynicism, and rumblings of gossipy sordid affairs abounded. But it was as she would find out, not only her cross to bear.
They were advised by some wise men, three of them actually, that it would be best for everyone if the birth not take place in town. Considering it good advice they opted to go to a friends farmhouse in Bethlehem. They had the plan all set and knew God would be lighting the way with a bright star which as it turns out was really a comet by the name Halley. They found a little manger outside the friends farmhouse and decided that it would be perfect. The baby was born, Mary named him Jesus as she had been instructed, and things were going along as planned for a change. The three wise dudes had a baby shower and brought some cool presents and announced to the world that a baby had been born, and that he was the son of God, and he would be baptized by John, a famous revivalist that held people under water until they agreed to repent. He would then be hidden as he learned the word of God in the wilderness with nothing but his rod and a small staff.
To Be Continued……

Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

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Garden Party, part II

Previously on Garden Party:
However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out amongst all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds.

Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds
Part Two…..Everybody out of the gene pool!

The first night after seeing this naked Shepherd woman Adam woke up all wet after a salacious dream of fantasy. S&M and fetishes (aside from the occasional animal fetish) hadn’t been invented yet so Adams fantasy was of pure and lurid sex with this fair shepherds daughter. He now had an obsession to sneak off to the forbidden zone in search of the erogenous zone. After quickly finishing his chores he would sneak down to the waterhole every day hoping for a copious viewing. He watched from the trees as she bathed herself getting more horny each day. He stared in awe until he got up enough nerve to confront her. “Young maiden of the Shepherds, why do you come to the forbidden place each day by yourself?” The young maiden pretended to be alarmed even though she had been aware of his hiding and staring since his first visit. Frankly, she was just as curious and horny as he was, also experiencing tingles and fantasizing about inter-tribal sex. “I come here to bath myself, not to be stared at by an Aggie. Why do you come here every day to stare at me?” The young Aggie gave this some thought, because quite frankly he wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “ I come not to stare at you but to explore the area and determine if the land is fit for growing” he lied. The young maiden blushed slightly when she saw the lust in his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure it is the land you wish to explore? It seems to me you are looking at my body and I believe that is not vegetation I see growing under your loincloth” The audacious young maiden gave him a look that offered more a challenge than a venting of distain. She blinked her eyes at him and something strange happened. He felt a Funny feeling in his stomach as though the seeds he used to grow things themselves were festering from within. He boldly chose to accept the challenge. “It is true that have gazed upon you and appreciate the…..unusual beauty you possess. Indeed I was hoping perhaps you were an Aggie and would be my maiden.” The Aggie could feel his entire body shaking and the young Shepherd maiden did not back away. She moved closer to the Aggie. “I am a Shepherd woman, not a dirt laden Aggie maiden. And you young Aggie, you are filled with dirt from your farming. If I were to ever consider being a maiden to the like of you I would expect you to be clean. Why don’t you come in here and allow me to bathe you?” It was more of an order than an invitation but that was of no consequence because he had already made his mind up as to where he was headed and his manhood was pointing the way. To honor this beuty of an animal penner Adam showed her a huge bud of something he had cultivated on his own. He broke off a piece, rolled it in some paper and struck a fire stick. He approached the watering hole with a mere modicum of trepidation and a huge blunt. Well two large blunts in the metaphoric sense. She held out her hand and he accepted the smoking blunt and puffed heartily. “What do you call this farm boy?” to which he answered with a dopey smile, “Green Acres.”
They puffed this happy herb and lo and behold it lowered their inhibitions to zero. Adam dropped his loincloth and revealed that the growth underneath it was indeed ripe for the picking. He stepped naked into the waterhole beside her. For two minutes they cleansed each other, eyes sparkling with curious wonder. The Aggie closed his eyes and allowed this maiden, this Shepherd woman to touch him all over. When she got down to washing below his waist he was surprised to discover how eagerly his body was responding without his consent. The maiden held his solid manpole in her hand. “Methinks my Aggie that you have something other than bathing on your mind.” Unable to form an actual word, the Aggie grabbed the maiden in his arms and laid a big fat spit swapping kiss on her using his tongue muscle very skillfully. This was something new to the maiden, and at first she wanted to pull back. However, once she realized how good the tongue tango felt, she greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth and allowed the saliva filled dance to continue. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. Sparks flew and fluids oozed, and soft moaning was the only form of communication. Of course the two lovers understood they would be scorned by their fellow tribe members for allowing their naked bodies to exchange these biological fluids, but frankly Scarlet they didn’t give a damn. They continued to explore each other and exchange passion and bodily fluids in so many positions it laid the groundwork for the upcoming Kama Sutra. They made passionate love four times and some not so passionate love twice more. It wasn’t until after the sixth round of carnal explorations led to exhaustion that they even introduced themselves to each other. “I am called Adam, which means man.” To which the maiden replied, “Indeed Adam, you are quite the man. More so than any Shepherd I have ever known. My name is Eve, which means life.” With a big fat satisfied grin Adam replied, “Indeed Eve, you have breathed life into me unequaled by any other Aggie I have ever known.” The only sound was the b=chirping birds, the cricking crickets, and the two stomachs growling from an unusual hunger pang. They found a fabulous apple tree and satisfied the very first cases of herbal munchies.
So Adam and Eve began to meet each other every day smoking Eden weed and making love like a couple of school kids. But all was not so good back at the tribes. The other Aggies were beginning to get suspicious because Adam never ever seemed to be dirty anymore. How could anyone work the soil all day yet remain free of dirt. And back at the Shepherds they began to get suspicious because Eve was always singing and whistling showing no interest in even the most handsome of Shepherds. Now it just so happened that the leader of each tribe sent a spy out to follow their respective suspected tribe violators on the very same day. Once at the watering hole, the Aggie spy hid in the north woods while the Shepherd spy hid in the south woods. At first the spies were appalled and shocked. But Adam and Eve were both so very sexually talented, and each brought new tricks specific to their tribes that it became more of a show. Sex theater at it’s finest. I believe at least one, perhaps even both had become so excited while watching that they pleasured themselves before returning to the tribe leaders to give the reports.
The tribe leaders were livid. Furious! How could this possibly happen? It was the most outrageous act that had ever occurred. They both paced, in different colonies yet somehow in unison, until the sinners returned to their folds. The minute Adam returned to the farming village he was grabbed by the biggest and strongest Aggies and brought before the leader. “Adam, I am quite disappointed”, he said, “You have disrespected every member of our tribe by engaging in this disgusting act with a Shepherd woman.” Adam didn’t answer, he just stood there looking sheepish, which for an Aggie was another no no. “You’re despicable act has left me with no other choice. You shall be banned forever from the garden of Eden. Go now, get out and never return. Take your Shepherd slut with you!” Adam sadly walked to his hut to gather his belongings. Inside he saw his best and now only friend. “How did he find out” he asked of this friend. “Well Adam, you were spied on by Cain. He followed you and reported back to the leader.” Adam shook his head and mumbled, “Cain, of course. I should have guessed. That shit spreading farmer is gonna pay for this someday.” And with that, Adam left towards the waterhole hoping to see Eve there one last time.
Eve of course had a similar experience, and she too was permanently banned from the Garden of Eden. Eve was certain it was Abel that had spied on her as Abel had always tried putting the moves on her but she forever denied his advances. Reluctantly she too had to leave, and also chose to have one last look around the sexually charged waterhole in hopes that somehow Adam might be there. As luck would have it, which luck often does in fairy tales, they met at the very same moment and exchanged stories of banishment’s.
So hand in hand Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden forever, Eve holding in one hand one of the apples and a huge green bud Adam had grown for her, and in her other hand she held tight Adams snake, which Eve had so totally and completely tamed. It was the summer of discontent, and the fall of man.

 

Gun Lobby Oddity (A parody Of A Space Oddity)

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Gun control to Major Tom
Gun control to Major Tom
Put your riffle down and put the safety on
Gun control to Major Tom

This is gun control to major tom
You’ve really been well paid
And the papers want to know how much you care
But its time to pass legislation if you dare
This is gun control to major tom
I’m asking for some laws
But your waffling in a most peculiar way
The guns on the street look different today
And here you are sitting in an ivory tower
Far above the world
And the earth looks crimson red
And the gun lobbies are overfed
Though we’ve tried one hundred thousand times
I’m feeling very ill
And I think we all now which way this should go
Tell the children that you love them
They should know
Gun control to major tom
There are children dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear us major tom
Can you here us major tom
Can you hear us major tom
Can you hear, we’re all crying in a tin can
Outside the funeral homes
Everyone feels blue
But there’s something you can do

Gun control to Major Tom…. I understand you feel your right to own a gun is absolute but seriously, the amount of guns available is out of control. Middle school kids are carrying. We don’t want to take away your guns, we just want to take away some of the insanity that has infiltrated our communities because of your support of inaction. Think it through. The blood is now on your hands…