Tag: parody

The Bigger The Atom The Bigger The Bang, Oh Mega p2

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p2

 

Life after death? Is that what’s to be with me? One thing for sure I can’t wait to meet this “Creator” at the bottom of the staircase. 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. My advisor was no longer 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 waiting 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? Time to go on down to the bottom and find out!

No more questions I have my answer. Go downstairs and find out what the truth is. I proceeded cautiously not knowing if truth was an entity, a concept, or a trap. 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 super storms. On the other side of the board was all numbers, or rather symbols numbers and fractions and such. A math geeks orgasm. 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 a spot amongst his quizzical locks to scratch his head and ponder the meaning. That said….What the Fuck?? What is all this shit supposed to mean to me? This is the truth? I didn’t understand what or why I was looking at this strange blackboard but I knew it would give me the answer to my…….Jesus shit I don’t even remember the question anymore. Not sure if it was what is life all about or what is death all about or something else entirely. Something important was in front of me so I decided to give it a stab with the images and leave the math number and letters 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 looked 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 those stupid equations mean.” I stared up at the board and was startled when the no one I had been speaking to spoke back to me 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 in my world. This logarithm, Pi, the DNA, all of the math up there is not an accident, it’s more like my signature. Like a barcode or watermark you use to identify things, or a hologram The math problems are my hidden code that I myself scripted all over your universe. That 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. Galaxies are spiral, your DNA is a spiral, storms, shells, everything. That’s what happens when atoms collide, natural spirals form when the energy shoots out from both sides of the explosion in a whirlpool fashion forming a spiral. Imagine to cars colliding head on in slow motion. At the epicenter there would be a big explosion and parts from both cars would spray backwards. Pieces of the pieces travel to different distances depending on their weight. That’s how the universe started. I collided two atoms together and the resulting explosion was spread around and settle at different distances from the center. Some of the larger piecers slam into each other forming galaxies. It all travels in a spiral even though its not perceptible to the eye. Why even this universe itself is spiral JT. I know common belief is it’s constantly expanding but that’s only part true, it will in time settle until it slams into someone else’s universe. A better term for the worlds 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. I thought I was stunned but when I turned to see who was talking to me I was speechless.

Not a tall muscular slender long-haired Herculean man as one might expect a creator or godlike truth teller to be but 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. Atom collider, The 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 to say 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. What I am is similar to what you call a scientist but from a very different universe. In my universe the scientists create universes by colliding atoms and try to find life on them. 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 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 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 that 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 tiny ball of powerful 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 organism was my signature math equations an instructions on duplicating. What your scientists have figured out is DNA. A strand of information and instruction from me passed on to everything that reproduces. 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 and I could tell he knew much of what he told me was above my pay grade. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “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 information age and this is just bacon cheeseburger Google overload. It’s the price I pay for being in the world wide web, 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 what I truly looked like 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 you. 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.

TBC-The Real Information Age

 

Oh Mega Where Is My Alpha

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after

 

Part 1..  The Beginning Of The End

by J.T. Hilltop

 

We all do it. Each of us wonders what will happen to us after we die. Once we pass our use by date do we get recycled, start again as someone new? Are we limited to the option of floating on clouds with wings and a harp or burning forever with the evilest most vile horned creature from under our childhood beds? Is it another step toward reaching our Nirvana? Or do we just cease existing altogether? Well this is the story of the very day I found my answer. This is the story of my afterlife experience…….

 

 

 

I

“Sir do you want fries with that?” Mmmm, fries. “Why yes indeed my young friend, supersize me with an extra large, I deserve a break today.” Of course I wanted a break it was on of those time I felt the need, no an entitlement to splurge a little and pay my homage to the demons of my poor life choices. A really rough week was how I justified having that humongous cholesterol popping double bacon cheeseburger and free fatty acid dripping fries laden with sodium on my fateful night. And anyways, what the Hell. I’m all for freeing fatty acids and cheeseburgers come in second only to double cheese and pepperoni covered pizza. Holy guacamole what a tasty burger, better than a Kahuna burger although honestly I never really had one of those. I was having a bacon burger Royall that just begged for a can of Fosters Ale. The huge oil can of Aussie malts and hops with a jumbo half pound of grease splattering all meat hamburger topped with six slices of sodium laced fat filled hickory smoked bacon and four slices of lactose laden sharp cheddar cheese. All on this delicious sesame seed bun with “secret sauce”. It was the cholesterol lovers special, a sacrificial lamb to the great prophet Angina, patron saint of clogged arteries. It was oh so delicious going down and man oh man it just melted away the stress giving me that all warm and fuzzy feeling in my stomach.. The grease spots on my bag of extra large fries advertised an accompaniment of deep fried deliciousness. This meal was an orgasm and a half for my taste buds who were merrily dancing with reckless abandon all over my mouth. I’m telling you brothers and sisters, when you have the three B’s, life is good. Beer, bacon, and burgers. Collectively they make everything feel all tingly and giddy but as I would soon find out this particular evening that tingling was much more than the usual comfort food rumblings. All that warm and fuzzy tingling on the inside was actually a war erupting deep in my entrails and not a jovial taste bud drum circle producing the happy tango in my belly

Unbeknownst to yours truly there was an acidic uprising throughout my gastric battlefields. The war of the small and large intestines was fully engaged and acids were bouncing and flying around everywhere. An all out acid attack was underway which was bad enough, but even worse, in cardiac central a shock and awe campaign was in full flight. While the intestines battled it out they sent waves of nausea up through the esophagus in a campaign to create a reflux warning. Tossing and turning, tumbling and churning, the gastro intestinal system did its best to raise the threat level to red and wake me up. But the four oversized cans of Aussie brain fuel combined with the large glass of boxed wine had seen to it that nothing short of an absolute hydrogen explosion or an atomic uprising would wake me from my comatose sleep. The battle ensued and intensified through the evening as much of the fat from the bacon, cheese, and hamburger had forced their way past the intestine walls and into the already weak liver. There it jumped on the hemoglobin transport and took the main artery directly to first coronary quadrant. The transport emptied exactly where the cholesterol had been preparing for its moment. The bad cholesterol, the axis of evil in the digestive tract had been planning for this event over the years, setting up roadblocks all along the arteries to prevent supplies from passing through to reach the life center. If it can cut off all paths to the heart an prevent the flow of life giving liquids to blood pumping center the evil cholesterol will be declared the winner! The blood supply line was doing its best to bring humanitarian supplies to the heart, but this huge bacon cheeseburger gave cholesterol just the advantage it needed to create a proper blockage. Now it can shut down its opponent forever. Without blood flow and the alcohol sedation it was just a matter of time. My time. That’s right my good friends your narrators time had run out. Sad to say not a victim of some heinous crime, not dead from a car accident, not an overdose of illicit joy enhancers, not even a natural disaster for me to blame for my demise. Only thing to blame was the man in the mirror, the man who knew damn well that all those poor choices would one day take their toll and this was the day. In the end I guess I’m glad I was asleep at the time because I never saw it coming, but stay tuned because what follows death is the real reason I’m here now.

This was my final dance, my last call. The beer and wine combo platter successfully masked the sensation of having a massive heart attack but not the reality. I woke from my sleep, or that is I thought I woke, but I wasn’t really awake. It was a surreal state. My eyesight was strained kinda like I was looking through the thick lens of a calculus student. Not so much blurry as if I was seeing ten dimensions and they overlapped causing an almost fractured view of the world. But what world? I mean like where the fuck am I? Okay think back, whats the last thing I remember? A ton of cholesterol laden bricks fell on my head! I had a heart attack! This is it! I must be dead. I guessed I was gonna find out that what happens after death is you walk around confused, like some lame ass ghost.

I had finally started to put it together. Yep, I’m dead as a doornail yet I can still think. Is this that phenomenon of life after death? I can see my body but I cant feel anything so why am I still thinking? What am I here for? I took stock of the room. The walls seemed almost oval and I felt encased in water or some warm liquid yet I’m breathing normally. Some kind of joke or something? I’m back in the womb? No, its not that, I’m not being reborn but I see a kind of tunnel to the right, and a stairwell to the left. Could this be my final decision? Was I completely wrong about God and all the mystery surrounding him or her? Am I stuck between heaven an hell? The tunnel like thing is sorta dark so that must be hell, and the stairwell is lit up at the top so that must be my stairway to heaven. Okay JT, time to choose. One glance down the tunnel revealed absolutely nothing but darkness so the decision was pretty easy. Up the stairwell I go to where all that glitters is gold.

I ascended the steps but I couldn’t feel my feet. Actually I didn’t so much walk as I sorta floated up the steps slowly, one at a time. The tension was building. I was anxious to see what was at the top. When I arrived there was a beautiful image looking at me and straight away I could somehow tell she knew everything about me. I knew instinctively that if I were going to plead my case this was the time and she was the person. Time to get pro-active.

“I made some pretty bad decisions, didn’t I?” She looked at me knowingly and shook her head. In the most soothing voice she said, “Yes JT, you have made some very poor choices which caused undue harm to people who did not deserve it. On the other hand you have helped out a great many of people as well.” Hope rose up in my throat like magma burning to escape. “That’s true, I did, I helped so many people in many ways. I know I made some mistakes but I did a lot of good too. Right?” I can’t be sure but I think I was breathing hard. If I was even breathing at all. She smiled and it lit her face up. I got a closer look. Her hair was light brown and hung around her face in slight curls. So thick and full her locks were billows of blustery clouds. Her face was perfectly round and beautiful. Somehow she looked like every girl and woman I have ever known. Slightly raised sleek forehead one moment, perfectly flat and silky smooth the next. Her face was absolutely wrinkle free and she had a nose that epitomized the button mushroom one second then jutted out regally the next. It was quite disconcerting and confusing. By far the most intriguing and alluring part of her face were her eyes. I was peering directly into two mirrors aflame with a fire of compassion and burning with life. Her thin warm lips did not move so I assumed it were those reflective orbs that spoke directly to my soul. “You know JT, it had taken you many a year to learn the preciousness of life and you have been so very honorable to so many, yet you did not take much care of your own well being.” I knew she was right, I have a long history of various forms of self medication and self abuse, I didn’t get check ups regularly nor tests when they were suggested, I ate and drank many things I knew were not good for me, and overall took little care of the maintenance of my body outside of daily personal hygiene. “True that Ms. Spirit, I have put others ahead of myself but isn’t that a good thing? I mean, I cared for many others and not taking care of myself was more or less a well deserved self punishment right? How many times did I figuratively give someone the shirt off my back, even when I had so little? You know, “Those who have little give everything and take nothing“ or something like that. I’m paraphrasing here but it is true, I forsook of myself so that others may benefit from my deeds.” I closed my eyes so she couldn’t see my fear, but of course she’s not human so I have no idea if she even sees at all. “That’s what we’re here to decide JT, whether or not your deeds and attributes outweigh your mistakes and earned you the right to hear the truth.” I looked right into those all seeing disks, “I have tried to make amends for all the stupid things I have done. I have given much of myself and here it is, the end. This is how it works? You choose who is worthy of going on and……and what happen to the rest, what is the fate if you decide they are unworthy? Are you God?”. Again the smile which by this time was actually beginning to piss me off with its somewhat condescending sneer. A belly laugh from this female god faker seemed almost evil and my mood was changing rapidly. Was she laughing at me? “It doesn’t matter who I am JT, and as for you the decision was made long ago by you. I’m not real because you created me JT, I am a sort of collage of lives that have been central to yours. Do you see your mother in me? I know you do, they all do.” Now anger was rapidly being replaced by confusion. What the hell does she want from me? I created her, are you serious? But here it was, an image I apparently conjured up from people I love or loved and it’s already been decided what my fate will be.

“So what happens now?” My spidey senses were tingling, or I think they were, not really sure of anything anymore. “Now its time for you to go see the creator.” She said it so matter of fact and nonchalant. Her words hung around like a morning mist lingering the mountaintops waiting for the sun burn away the fog. I hoped she was preparing to shine a clearing light of knowledge. But the words themselves betrayed and threatened all my beliefs. Thoughts swirling in a vortex of confusion I uttered the most appropriate response I could muster with what little strength I had. “ You mean God?” I just stared at the woman I had begun to think might be God and she smiled that so familiar smile that seemed to warm my soul and put me at ease. I couldn’t move or talk, could only observe. “Relax JT, its nothing to be alarmed of. There is no one God as you have been taught. You are God, and I am God. Trees and bees and lions and tigers and bears are God. Everything you have ever loved is God. You are not meeting God you are going to see the truth. The creator has the truth JT, and the truth has been waiting for you. It’s time for you to hear the truth. Go now to the bottom of the staircase. Your time is at hand”

 

Viva La Revelations (A twisted tale from the unrepentant Absurdist)

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revelation

 

J.T. Hilltop

I was always the fucking last one picked. No one really wanted me on their team. Said I was uncoordinated, too slow, and good for nothing. But I showed them. I wrote a book for the Bible. The “Book of Revelations” which ironically was the last story chosen for the Bible. Coincidence? Are you fucking kidding me or what?? Maybe you think Revelations was too fat, too slow, and too uncoordinated to play in the Old Testament but Omega of the New? Get the Shepherds Flock outta here. Ya want the true story or the bullshit stories you’ve been taught by people you have been fooled into trusting.

Well my name is John. John of Pathos and I had the visions I am prepared to share with you while in jail. Yea that’s right, jail. What? You thought we only had torture chambers back then? Okay admittedly dudes and dudettes we had some killer Iron Maidens but we also used jails. And jail is where I was at when I received the Holy Fucking Revelations!

The book of revelations is somewhat difficult to tell because its told in some rather unusual circumstances. I had been a prolific Theological Blogger in my day who had already had a number of stories published in the New Testament under my chisel name, Pontius Pontificator. Not to brag or anything but it’s a play on my own name John the Fornicator. I used Pontius cuz I was a dream to the ladies if ya knows what I mean. Anyways, some of my books were under the epistle category, and a gospel song called Psalm 43 (The P has the right to remain silent). John the Fornicator from Pathos will now begin the story of Revelations as I saw in my visions from jail. It includes the four headless horsemen of Sleepy Hollow, the Liar of Judah, angels, seven trumpeters, the beast, a dragon, a false prophet, an arched angel, and of course no biblical tale would be complete without a whore, this one straight outta Babylon. So take out your cones guys and girls, here’s the real deal scoop appeal.

 

One evening while I was studying in the prison library the guard tells me I got this like visitor. Now not many of my friends come by and my family disowned me so my interest is how you say, peeked. A woman, not saying it was Jesus’ Mary cause I would never do nothing behind the J-mans back so lets just say she looked quite similar to Mary Magdalene. So Mary come in and lays a snog toggling tongue twirling kiss right on my mouth. I mean it was like a cheek wrestling, saliva swapping smacker of a French kiss right there in plain view of everyone in the visitors cave. While we was moanin and groanin I could feel two slimy tabs of something slip off Maggs tongue. She tells me to swallow, something you don’t normally wanna hear in prison, but I swallows the tabs. Then she tells me I just took two tabs of Cobalt Cheer acid. Man I was stoked, that’s some ass kicking cid right there my brothers, I knew I was gonna be tripping my nuts off. I smiled all the way back to my cell knowing what was coming. I got to my confinement cave and laid down on my stone cot while my bulge subsided. (Hey, when ya gets a kiss of that nature when incarcerated things pop up and stay popped up) After about a half hour or forty five minutes or so I hears this voice. Like I sit up right away and look around but there ain’t no one there. So I lays back down when the voice comes back, this time calling me by name. “Oh Jaa-ahn” So’s I shout who’s that, who’s there? And the voice says ‘Its me John, God.’ Now I’m thinking it must be the acid kickin’ in right? I mean the walls of the cave had been like breathing for a while and this voice was like soft and almost girly. Not the powerful deep voice you’d expect God would have but the chick-like voice insists. ‘Really John, its me God’ Then he steps out from the shadows and sure enough it is the almighty himself, God. Amazing how much Jesus looked like him, I mean like the spittin’ image except like a million years difference. What else could I do? I sez, “what’s happening God?”

Then he walks straight through the bars. Not around them, I mean like right through them, like they wasn’t even there. Then he sez, ‘John, I’m going to tell you a story. I want you to write this story down and make sure everyone reads it.’ I’m really feelin ripe about now so I sez to him, you mean like a bestseller or something? To which he replies, ‘Ah…yea, something like that. But first try and get the story into the bible, because the book needs a proper prophetic ending and this will be the story of the end and the new beginning.’ Now I’m really thinking the acid must be slamming the insides of my brain up against my skull or something but I figures maybe I should like play along and I sez to him, ‘Yea, yea sure Mr. Devine Being, whatever you sez. He goes on, “When I first created everything I had seven arch angels to watch over heaven and protect it. Six of these arch cherubs were cool, but one malignant rascal, Beelzebub, was just a real pain in the sacred cheeks. Had to do everything his own way and refused to follow my directions. Finally one day I caught him rolling in the hayclouds with Gabriel’s teenage daughter and that was the last straw. I tossed him and his baneful ways out of heaven straight down to earth along with one third of the questionable residents of heaven, like my own heavenly flotilla. He went down to earth with the low-lifes and they formed a gang of goblin thugs calling themselves the Crypts. Picked the name of a sacred burial undercroft just to spite me. After that he enters the Garden of Eden, whips out his penis angling it in front of Eve like some big snake. Well of course his phallus being thrice the size of Adams Eves eyes widened, began to water and left her mouth agape which he quickly filled with an apple. He then seduced Eve enticing her to make love, five times, and that’s when all the trouble began. That was the fall of man, when Adam, teeming with jealousy and divine penis envy begins recruiting humans for his own gang to exact revenge. So I had Gabriel, a very trusted angel form a gang up here first because I knew there would someday be a major showdown and the humans wouldn‘t stand a chance. He formed the Bloods of my blood, after my sons prophecy. We call them the Bloods for short, and it created a rivalry that would be the mother of all rivalries. Positive vs. Negative, Life vs. Death, Good vs. Evil, none of them have anything on the rivalry of the Bloods vs. Crypts. One day we would have our gang lords get together for an epic rumble. This showdown will be called The Rapture. Are you getting all this down John?”

Now I knows I’m still tripping and all but I’m starting to think maybe this shit really is on the up and up so’s I keep scraping away on my stones getting down his words so I could one day write the book for him.Being an ancient journalist of course I had questions, so I asks him to explain to me how this Rapture thing is gonna go down. Then something happens that may sound like a fairy tale or a hallucination. He floats up to the ceiling an sez come on up John it will be easier if I show you”

Now I’m flipping ya know? I’m like how the brimstone am I supposed to get up there, but before I even gets to thinking about a strategy I was lifted right off my feet and floated right next to him. Honest to god, from Gods mouth to my ear he whispers, ‘Watch this. These guys can really stir it up’ A light went on and I swear to you it looked like a giant flat screen TV in HD. The images seemed so real. There was a stage with seven musicians, each one a phenom trumpeter. Al Hirt,Loius Armstrong,Wynton Marsalas, Miles Davis,Chuck Mangione,Maynard Fererson, and Dizzy Gillespie. Not just ordinary musicians each stood with a golden trumpet in their hands. The seven Trumpeters. They jammed away in like improv style non stop for about an hour. Man my head was floating! And that’s when the real show started!

TBC

 

 

 

 

Laughter Is Far More Than Mere Medicine

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humor

 

 

J.T. Hilltop

It’s a running joke. No, I’m not talking about the potential candidates running for president constantly flaunting of their assholiness, what I mean is laughter being the best medicine. Although I must admit some of the ranting of those running for president are far more ridiculous than any slapstick routines I’ve seen. The bottom-line is more than just a venue in Greenwich Village with popular acts, the bottom line is that the most creative, concise, profound, and just plain sensible information about life, love, and politics have come by way of brilliant comedians.

 

It started with Lenny Bruce, although admittedly I’m too young to have seen his act live I certainly have learned much about censorship and abuse of power from Lenny. But the first comedian who really made sense as well as developing my sense of humor was a big fan and learned much of his craft from Mr. Bruce. George Carlin. From the Hippy Dippy weatherman to the brightest funnyman who ever shed light on social and political issues in a way in which we could all understand. George Carlin not only made me laugh, yes out loud long before lol was a thing, but he also helped put so much more into perspective in a way which I personally could relate to. George helped me to understand my nagging sense of spiritual emptiness as well as my frustration with authority figures, ie Washington DC. Through his brilliant use of comedic perspective George Carlin shed an enlightening perspective and helped me to sort out my life issues with a hint of sarcasm and a ton of laughter. Thank you for the medicine George, much of what you said still rings true in so many hearts.

 

When George passed away a deep chasm of a void needed filling. His humor was so sustainable because unlike many jokers who tell the same jokes in different ways (sort of like reporters asking a set of questions that sound eerily similar to the first one they asked) his humor had evolved. But the void remained, thankfully to be filled in from an alien from outer space, Mork from Ork. Robin Williams was the next comedian to enter my little world with a handful of laughter medicine. Different from George but equally as talented and funny. Robin taught me that living my life in an improv format was okay as long as I kept my perspectives. The main difference for me was that Robin was equally adept at playing dramatic roles, but none the less his humor not only comforted me but it also helped to validate the social and political issues I had developed from following Mr. Carlin. The recent tragedy of losing Robin hit hard on a number of levels not the least of which was his ability to rise above his inner demons for as long as he did through the use of laughter.

 

With Robin gone another huge void had been created. The next laugh man I latched onto for medicinal joking was Jon Stewart. Jon had transcended social issues to a completely new level, delving ever deeper into politics and the disgusting hypocrisy and corruption while brining it to light in a serious way via his brilliant comedic outlook on life. As a note of accomplisment Jon Stewart was incredibly significant in the passing of the 911 first responders bill to make sure they have medical coverage. It absolutely astounds me that a single person on Capitol Hill needed to be shamed into voting for the heroes that answered the call on the darkest days our country has see3n in modern history but then again, congress are humorless jokes. Jon went up and down the corridors of the building with some responders having to shame them into agreeing to even put the bill to a vote which only strengthens my position that comedians should have more influence on social and political issues. I compare Jon to Johnny Carson on two levels. One I remember my father, despite leaving early for work in the morning never missing The Tonight Show and laughing so loud it often woke me up. I would later learn that Johnny Carson was dishing out the daily social news stories with his own brand of humor. But more than that, Jon Stewart like John Carson before him kick started the careers of many a comedian, the most notable in Jon’s case Steven Cobare, or more pretentiously, Cobert pronounced Cobare. Using incredible wit combined with profound wisdom, both of these jokers are able to place today’s issues in an understandable if not always humorous way.

 

There have been other laugh makers that helped shape the social and political landscapes, Monty Python, Prime Time Players, Second City among others. All have helped us to not only make sense of a complicated world, but to be able to laugh at the same time. It’s ridiculously hard to remain sad or angry while we’re laughing. That’s why I stand by the statement laughter is the best medicine. I will however admit, that some substances make the laughter even funnier, but these are humor additives not humor itself even if they sometimes make us laugh without understanding why we are laughing.

 

In conclusion, in a recent election in Brazil an actual clown, not clown in the sense of those running for president in the US, Tiririca, was elected to Brazilian Congress. Notably he too is a Republican but perhaps its not the same in Brazil as it is here. In summation, maybe it’s time we form an independent political party and load it up with doctors of comedy who can administer the medicine we all need these day, laughter….

PEACE

 

The War On Christmas Is Supposed To Start On A Friday

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized1 Comment

friday

 

J.T. Hilltop

Despite commercial attempts at decking the halls the day after Halloween the holiday of Christmas is under siege again. Perhaps I shouldn’t call it the holiday of Christmas or I may be accused of being indoctrinated into the war and I am after all a pacifist. But it’s war that has already begun, a bit too early as everything seems to these days. The 2015 War On Christmas. This year the first battle lines were drawn very early and quite decisively with the shot of espresso heard round the world when a plain red cup surreptitiously entered the holiday fray with a social media bang! Excluding snowmen, snowflakes or other such holiday emblems was a clear violation of Geneva Holiday laws not to mention a huge slap in the face to Parson Brown in the meadow who‘s face it was rumored to be the snowman on last years cups. Be that as it may the red cups of coffee have declared war on Christmas on a Tuesday! History dictates the annual war on Christmas is always declared on a Friday. The Friday after Thanksgiving to be more accurate, a day of non denominational salebrations. Rumors of its beginnings in Central America are without merit as is evidenced in the spelling of the rumored cry in and around the Isthmus of Panama, “It’s time to keep the Isthmus in Christmas” So how did the Christmas Wars begin? Did some puppet regime take Christ out of Christmas? Maybe some green monster ripped off all of the Whoville presents under the Christmas/Holiday tree. Or was it far more devious a plot to inject commercialism into Christmas. Let’s let History be the judge..

 

 

It was a cold and breezy day with wind gusts that snickered sarcastically at all the revelers waiting on the eternally long lines. The aggressors had left the comfort of their turkey dinner to cash in on the huge sales. Like the proverbial (not from the book of proverbs) carrot before the horse a promise dangles motivating the troops into leaving behind the safety and love of family to trot happily towards the big screen TV’s advertised all week. Time was ticking down inside the stores as the front lines, the frightened first line of defense prepared for the invasion by making final checks on the store shelves and cashier stations. The manager bellowed out a warning, “Five minutes to opening!” Those four simple words sent shivers across the entire group of employees working this evening. Most if not all had left a traditional gathering of their tribal units to save their low paying jobs which would surly be in jeopardy had they not accepted the challenge of the upper management, to be working on Thanksgiving eve. But a far sinister force had already altered their destinies as they laid out their plan.

General and CEO Grinch surveyed his troops via a closed circuit television inside his very upscale warm and safe abode. His voice reverberated over the expensive audio system, “There is a day of celebration that the little people call “Thanksgiving”. The mass of sales hungry insignificant sheep claim it’s a day of unity in which they offer thanks to all they believe to have given them. Nothing is given to anyone, you have to work for it. Ladies and Gentleman the mindless followers about to invade our store maintain that this holiday is without any religious requirements but you and I both know that is a lie. All they want is to have the best and most presents under their religious tree’s and its up to us not to disappoint. We will prey on their faith in the brotherhood of savings. It is a day in which they wine and dine themselves into a state of numbness after consuming alcohol and tryptophan while watching a brutal display of small armies fighting over the real estate of what they refer to as a “football field”. This only enhances enough testosterone from both male and female viewers to whip them into a feeding frenzy for us, the corporate armies of America. We will tantalize them with the promise of huge sales and insane savings which is the force that drives our enemies, the believers in Christmas presents. We shall put everything in red and green and decorate all the halls from here to Montezuma with festive holiday greetings, bells, holly, and wreaths while calling them holiday decorations which will divide the army. Divide and conquer people! While they bicker and feud between the proper greeting to use we can convert that ridiculous energy into a desire to save. A perfect deception causing them to spend far more than anticipated in a misguided attempt to make this the best Christmas or eh, holiday ever. So be ready, today the war on Christmas will commence on this day of November 27th, Black Friday, a day that will live on in infamy.”

Black Friday. That’s how history will retell this tragic day. Technically the corporate armies have pushed back the beginning to Thursday nights, the actual day called Thanksgiving but history will remember it as Black Friday. It will be a brutal battle in which patrons will stampeded, push, punch, and bite each other over sales regardless of their religion. In the name of Christmas sales the Christian soldiers would be licking and nursing their multiple wounds suffered during the mêlée of Christmas sales surreptitiously projected as “Holiday Sales” designed to include non Christians into the time of sharing and giving which will surely infuriate the soldiers of Christianity while lining the pockets of the corporate soldiers of fortune. Many a front line sale hunting warrior has met defeat while screaming “I don’t care what you Say, its Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays before being trampled by sale hungry enthusiasts who care nothing about anything that does not relate to at least 50% off.

Oh sure, others have already waged the war of words on television blaming mainstream media for only reporting on the acts of kindness that need no religious declarations and ignoring the fact that the holiday is the sole possession of just one religion in particular. Tragically it matters not when you take into account it’s not a crime federal or even a misdemeanor to use either Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays as a friendly greeting of choice. To the soldiers poised for hours in front of a store to capitalize, yes that’s right, capitalize as in Capitalism, to beat their once loved neighbor into submission in the name of the final flat screen TV‘s all the niceties can commence at a more convenient time. Any cheek turning during sale battles will get a kicking tonight. Move the fuck over you pagan scum, there is a Christmas sale on! Fuck you you elitist piece of shit, it’s a goddamm holiday sale you moronic nincompoop. Who’s to say? A Chanukah sale? Kwanza spectacular? Christmas present special? Do the sales pertain to Agnostics or Atheists? Or is it exclusively a Christmas sale? Nay say the corporate gods, it’s a holiday sale. And why not? We accept monetary denominations from all denominations.

From a strictly nostalgic point of view a dark day was upon us. A one time spectacular day when the family together watched Macy‘s Parade, March Of The Wooden Soldiers, and the traditional football game while the home filled up on the wafting aroma of roasting turkey flesh had been changed forever. A day in which Dad, the head of the household stood poised with a large carving knife prepared to slice up the treasure, the huge turkey carcass on the only day of the entire year that was a day in which we all called peace on all worlds to merely express gratitude and celebrate family. It has forever been misconstrued to a day when children leave the serenity of a happy nested family dinner immediately after pie for a full contact no holds barred live global conflict of penny pinching uncaring attitudes to find the best sale at the cost of harming if necessary even an elderly grandmother. And why not if she attempted to outwit one in an either holiday or Christmas sale. Sanity broke down and the war on Christmas would escalate the very next Monday, cyber Monday!

Those reading this in the future may find this laughable, an actual war on Christmas which was a single day when it first began, but they would be ill informed not to understand how derisive a simple greeting had become. “I’m unarmed, I come in peace” may seem so common sense it couldn’t possibly have not existed forever, (No you sales nuts, not Forever 21) but there was a time when some asshole Americans actually fought a war over using the greeting Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas. It was a deep philosophical rift, with one side insisting that to say Merry Christmas offended their very existence while others insisted that unless everyone said Merry Christmas it was somehow an insult to an entire religion. If only their Gods, their Jesuses, their prophets (not profits), and Santa Clauses had had the chance to admonish them all for their foolishness we may have been able to get through a holiday (yes that’s right, Christmas is a day, Holidays are group of days in which goodwill used to be the main component) season without hating. But then again, maybe that’s what religion means to some of us, not love one another but to show our hatred to anyone not like us. There are many accounts of people so small they needed to put others down to escalate themselves to match the splendor of their twisted ego‘s. It seem that just like being a Vegan, everyone who insists that it can only be Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays seem to have a driving need to let everyone else in the world know that “I don’t care, I say Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays” or vice versus. Go ahead say whatever, give me a greeting filled with love not words or terms. I’m happy to get any kind of a kind greeting, even a simple Whats up Dude, just don’t laud your choice over me like it somehow makes you superior. It doesn’t. Spread love not anger, and have a great friggen holiday no matter who or what you are…… Love, Peace, and more Love………

 

DIVIDED HOME

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

divide

 

 

My mom always hoped I’d make something of myself and had her “list of idea’s” of what I could be. I doubt being an inmate at Rikers Island was even on the list yet it was a remarkably easy goal to achieve. Sorry Mom. But anyway I’m a product of my old boy, my Dad, a working class martini drinking, advice giving, home owner with a white picket fence and a two car garage used for storage. Most families had 2.5 kids which, if my algebra and biology lessons are correct is actually impossible, but my old man bucked the odds by having six kids all of which it turned out were boys. The starting lineup for a hockey team if we could skate. However, I would never make it in any sport. I guess you could say I’m the typical suburban failure. I was the youngest off those boys and my destiny was laid out at birth. I was mom and dads last hope at having a daughter so I came out of my womb a prepaid disappointment. An unwanted middle class kid in a town built on the hopes of a generation that survived World Wars and the great depression and were required to remind us about that at every opportunity. They fled the concrete jungles for a promise of a utopian society. Suburbia, the enchanted land just outside the reach of urban decay my parents grew up in where they could dream of an ideal future. They dreamed of having a girl and I totally fucked up their dream.

I didn’t have to be a constant source of disappointment if they just let me be who I was from the beginning. I’m a cook at a restaurant and love it which the folks could never understand. I did far better in school than my dumb ass older brothers so mom decided I would be a doctor or a lawyer. Dad wanted me to be a football star because I played with the older kids on account of my brothers but I hated sports. Maybe I hated them on purpose to further add to pops disillusionments for me but I would never attain any of the goals they set for me. I wanted to be a romantic, a poet, maybe an actor, or even just a chef. But I fell in with a crowd of buddies who only wanted to be rebel outlaw bikers so all the hopes and dreams mommy and daddy had for me went floating down the sewer system on two wheels where rats are king. That’s me, King Rat, the badass boy from Levittown. I earned my street stripes from shoplifting at the mall, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, and being ready to rumble at the drop of a hat. Ready to fight over just about anything, even making up reasons to kick some ass. If you looked up teenage angst in the dictionary you’d find a picture of me and my crew. Suburban heroes, rebels without causes. But in truth we were suburban hoods, wannabes, not bona fide outlaws, just angry young teens looking to make sense of this so called utopian land that treated us so unfair. The suburbs, the new frontier of the fifties. Land of conformity. So all I can say is why me? Why the fuck am I sitting in a cell at Rikers Island feeling sorry for myself just because I grew up in a divided home?

Let me clear that up a bit, when I say divided home I don’t mean my parents split up, no no no. They had a fine marriage, but we had little money and one shitty loaf of bread and a pound of bologna had to be divided up between six kids and two parents. Yea, Pops wasn’t the thickest branch on his family tree, probably because he spent more time screwing mom and having kids than climbing any corporate ladders, so he only brought home enough bacon for a family of four that Moms had to stretch for a family of eight. So with Dad’s mediocre salary and a bunch of hungry kids we had to divide absolutely everything. There was never any seconds at dinner, sometimes I didn’t even get firsts. Being the youngest of six overactive boys I was at the bottom of the food chain. The wildebeest of the dinner table hoping to have enough time to graze a few morsels before the stampede. That’s how shit got divided. I ate dinner in like five minutes, wolfing it down before any of the older wolves finished and started to pick from my plate. We weren’t poor, just divided. I lived in a room divided by imaginary boundary lines set up by three older brothers, leaving me trapped in the crappiest real estate of a four bed suite the same size as a normal kids single room. Maybe that helped me cope with my current situation of sharing tight quarters with three other guys. Or maybe Mom and Dad were preparing me for my destiny but that’s what I mean by divided family.

Doesn’t matter, you play the hand your dealt and make the best of it. I was dealt the lowest card on the totem pole so I did whatever I had to do to get noticed, to be heard over the raging hormones of my big brothers. Johnny was the oldest so he got the benefit of being first in line. The newest clothes, the biggest dinner portions, and a monopoly on Dads time. Brian, or Legs was the next in line, the tall athletic son who used up whatever pride Pops had leftover from Johnny because he played sports. Jimmy, Bob, and Danny shared the middle child status where they existed in relative obscurity and devoted much of their time to teasing me or kicking my ass just for kicks. And holy shit could they kick! They happily and democratically divided that chore up pretty evenly. And then at the end of the line, at the bottom of the barrel came me, a virtual omnipresent bruise. Apparently when I was born the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck so I came out of the womb all blue. It earned me the envious nickname “Blueboy” which everyone called me for so long I’m not sure if anyone remembered my real name, Thomas. But that’s me with a nickname that stuck like Beaver Cleaver. Blueboy O’Brian, destined to a life of crime for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just glad they didn’t call me O’Blueboy.

 

Levittown wasn’t a particularly tough town as far as suburban towns go, but it was a town where appearance was everything. Parents spent more money on giving the appearance of being well off than they did feeding or clothing their kids. Like half the kids around town we starved so the family could drive around in a new big Chrysler and dress in high suburb fashion. Us angry teens on the other hand didn’t give a shit about looking rich we only cared about how tough we were, like the street gangs of the big city. Another disadvantage for me, Blueboy was not the toughest nickname around but what could I do, it has always stuck. One benefit was having a nickname, because everyone who was anyone had a nickname. My best friends were Red, Snots, and Digger. Red with a full head of bright orange curls, Snots with his ever runny nose, and Digger, the braniac who tried top dig a whole in his back yard all the way to China so he could run away. When I really think about it none of them that much better than Blueboy, but no matter, we were who we were and we were four young lads with tough ass nicknames preparing for an island adventure. Rikers Island.

We started out our lives of crime on a small scale, just selling a little weed here and there and reselling some stolen items from the mall. But we were hungry for more. Digger had a BB gun and Red had an idea. We planned to rob a Dairy Barn Store in Bayside Queens. It sounded brilliant, Dairy Barns were isolated drive up stores that sold basically dairy items, but you could also buy cigarettes, soda’s, just about anything you might find at a 7/11 store. We would drive up in Slots Rambler and Red would hold the BB gun on the dude inside the store. Me and Digger would run into the store and grab anything we could sell while the unsuspecting cashier would relieve the cash register of its contents into a bag and casually hand it to Red. I sensed trouble right at the start. The Cashier looked at Red and said, “That ain’t nothing but a damn BB gun boy.” Red was quick on his feet, “Oh yea? You want I should shoot out one of your eyes with this high powered BB gun? Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and put the money from the cash register in a bag there and hand it over.” The cashier didn’t look very impressed as he pointed to a sign that said “Store under surveillance” about the same time Slott’s Rambler stalled out. I tripped as I entered the store and Digger fell on top of me. “There’s a camera right here you assholes. Who the fuck thinks robbing a Dairy Barn is a smart idea? You assholes are going down.”

Slotts tried in vain to get his car running, Digger and I scrambled to our feet and the dark of evening soon became drenched in flashing red and blue lighting. About that time I thought I probably shouldn’t have brought the bag of weed with me while committing a crime. “Put your weapon down and your hands up!” Red dropped the BB gun to the ground, Digger peed his pants, and Slotts finally got his car started and in a panic hit the accelerator while putting it in drive slamming into the fence four feet in front of him. We would eventually be tagged as “The gang that couldn’t drive straight” by the local newspapers but for now we just learned a few new legal terms. Intent, transference, and armed robbery

 

So anyway, that’s how I landed this all expense paid trip to the Island to include housing. I have three roommates. They look mean and nasty but I think they’re all nice guys deep down. Theres Shredder here who I assume works in an office, and Knuckles, who I’m a bit unsure of. The real big guy over there calls himself “Hammer” and he calls me Blue Balls instead of Blueboy which he thinks is hilarious. Tell you the truth I don’t really mind that…..”YO BLUE BALLS. GET ON OVER HERE ITS HAMMER TIME!”…oh, gotta go, that’s Hammer now. My culinary knowledge and training suggests he wants me to teach him how to make pie crust. Why else would he have brought such a large jar of Crisco with him? Until next time guys, peace out.

Blueboy O’Brian

 

 

 

 

The Day I Met Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized11 Comments

lucy

 

Life in 1966 was so damn Norman Rockwell I feared the entire year would be featured in The Saturday Evening Post. But ‘67 arrived and the cold winter ushered in an ugly escalation in the Vietnam war combined with continued civil rights issues including segregation and more riots. Thankfully ‘67 also ushered in the Summer of Love, a glimmer of hope for humankind through the youthful exuberance of believing life can be great. A time of free love, free thought, and free minds. The long hair freaky hippies had taken hold in Haight-Ashbury and The Greenwich Village scene offered up drugs sex and rock and roll to all who dared to try. Dangling candy in front of so many impressionable naïve children. And I had one Helluva sweet tooth.

 

Having already been introduced to hops and malts and ready something more the promise of mind altering alternatives sounded far too attractive to pass up. “Here man, smoke this. It won’t make your stomach all bloated, no puking in the woods, no head spinning frenzy. Just a nice calm mellow high.” Why not? After all, its all natural. Hey if God didn’t want us smoking the stuff why did he grow it? Funny I thought about God because I would later find out that the summer of love would end my nagging sense of spiritual emptiness. It would fill needs I hadn’t even realized existed. It would also be the summer I met Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

 

There was a lot of great things about growing up on Long Island but perhaps one of the best and certainly the most game changing was the fact that we could scrape together a few bucks and take the train into New York City. It opened up a whole new world free of judgments where we were actually encouraged to let our “Freak Flags” fly. Turn on and tune in. Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, Stanly Owsley, and The Grateful Dead. They took over the roles formerly held by Roy Rodgers, Ward Clever, and the Kingston Trio. From Captain Kangaroo to Captain Trips at the roll of a joint. “Hey little man, you think that pot is making you feel good, get ready to grow up and go on a real trip. Just put this little dot on your tongue and let it melt your mind.” Mmm-mmm good!

 

My first venture into the drug netherworld was in Washington Square Park. What a cool place, jam packed with hippies singing songs, doing some sort of floaty dances, or just hanging out and smiling. A lot of smiling. My big brother had gotten us tickets for us to a place called the Bottom Line to see some dude named John Mayall. At the time I didn‘t know much about him other than hearing my brothers bluesy records by The USA Union and The Bluesbreakers. He also bought a tab of LSD for me to try. Even if I thought it was a bad idea, which I didn’t, I would have had to trip just to save face. We were with his three best friends who would be merciless when we got home if I wimped out. But I wasn’t bullied into taking it, I took it willingly. I wanted to see for myself what all the hype about mind bending sugar cubes the hippies were tripping out on. Didn’t realize I would be on a crazy ride without a seatbelt.

The park was a trip in itself. While I waited for the tab to kick in we wandered through the paths. A couple of dudes singing around a few guitar playing longhaired dudes with smiles glued to their faces. Not singing like Cumbaya, more like some folkie shit, some Dylan guy or something. Street actors, comedians, and plain flat out weirdo’s roamed the paths of the park and after about forty five minutes I broke out laughing. “What’s so funny little brother?” What’s so funny? How the hell did I know? What just because I saw some guy walk by carrying his head in his hands? Because the head was laughing even though it wasn’t attached? Well…..yea, so I laughed too. How am I gonna explain that, anyway? Some dude is walking around inside a Dali painting? Besides, when I looked back at the guy he was normal again “Fucking everything man. That dude over there just dropped his head on the ground and the fucking thing bounced back up. That’s what‘s funny!” The four of us started laughing with nary a one of us knowing why. Didn’t matter, the LSD runway was clear and we had taken off. Humor would be the fuel that drove our trip ship.

 

We walked around with what felt like surgically implanted smiles on our faces, so intense were those near creepy smiles that the next day my smiling cheek muscles would ache all day long. We laughed and watched. Peoples faces began melting, tree’s bent over to kiss the horizon and the blowing leaves made weird shapes that took to breathing. It was hard to walk because the ground kept moving. I was watching and laughing when suddenly I felt a hand of on my ass. A tiny little palm giving it a light squeeze. I cocked my head slightly not wanting to seem obvious which must have looked really obvious, but what I saw sent a rush of adrenaline from my toes upward stopping at the groin for a few teasing seconds. The hand belonged to a five foot two smiling young lass about three or four years my senior. That may not seem like very much older now but when your thirteen going on fourteen its an entire era. The amount of cred you got being with a sixteen year old at that age is astronomical. She had very long tightly curled jet black hair and was wearing a sort of gypsy dress. A flood of emotions fluttered through my body, passion, lust, sexual tension and awkward nervousness highlighted by the nagging sense that one false statement or move will reveal my junior status and negate all of those other electric plugged in and turned on sensations. She giggled softly so I looked her right in the eyes, smiled back and whispered into her ear something along the lines of “Gliddy gloop glooppy, nibba nappy noopie la la la low low” Startled she stopped in her tracks, looked up at me for four seconds before breaking out into an uncontrollable laughing jag. At first I was embarrassed, then slightly angered, until I suddenly realized she was tripping too and laughing with me not at me. An instant friendship was born. We were sharing the same bizarre plane in some alternate universe and frankly I forgot about my brother and his friends. I talked to her excitedly about the book “Siddhartha” and she shared the name of a new prophet named Carlos Castaneda. She opened my eyes by opening my mind and over the next year I would study a variety of spiritual alternatives. It was just tangerine trees, marmalade skies, me and the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

 

Her name wasn’t really Lucy of course, and the Lucy in the Sky was more reference to LSD than anything else but suffice to say both Lucy’s and I had one of the most unforgettable evenings of our lives. Or at least I did. I gave away my ticket and told my brother I would meet him later. Lucy and I found ourselves laughing and crying and in some compromising positions. And smiling. A Lot of smiling. I called her Moss because we rolled around…..I called her Moss and that’s the name I’ll remember her by. It was a once in a lifetime meeting, a two ships in the night beautiful moment meant to share and enjoy before releasing the moment and returning to our previously scheduled lives. I had cancelled my subscription to Saturday Evening Post and graduated to Rolling Stone that night thanks to Moss. I mumbled something stupid like can I see you again but Moss had no intention of remaining in contact, she was just a traveler in time and space, another fucked up teen trying to make sense of a turbulent and confusion world. But I gotta admit, every once in a while I think about the night I met Moss and wonder, for a brief moment, what ever became of Lucy In The Sky.

 

Original Thought, The Prophet II (A Shady Sequel)

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prophet

 

What? Another sequel? Sequels are never as good as the original. Then again what the Hell is ever as good as the original? But wait, is it original? Now there’s a thought. But is it an original thought? Some say there is no such thing as original thought because someone somewhere has more than likely had that same thought before. Come to think about it I think I heard that somewhere before. In a way I guess that’s true of course, Tommy Edison gets credit for the light bulb but others claim it was discovered either simultaneously or perhaps even slightly before by someone else. Either way that light bulb has not only spawned generations of ideas it has become the icon of an idea itself. Why one just went off in a thought cloud above my head. But was it original?

Scientists (or is it romantics?) tell us no two snowflakes are exactly alike but I personally find that impossible to believe. What possible kind of study could possibly encompass every snowflake ever? The friggen things melt before ever being checked and logged into the snowflake database. Or is it a snowflake genetic information storage cloud or frozen genome, its so hard to keep track of all this damn information! Some icy flakes haven’t even been created yet so it’s a bit premature to say no two snowflakes are alike. All things considered I’m confidant at least two of those snowflakes in that Alaskan snow drift must be clones. So I will attempt to put original thought into my warped and frivolous snowflake perspective by doing what any original artist would do. I’ll steal it. Or borrow it at least, so this perspective is brought to you in original conceptual form inspired (and ripped off) of a book by the brilliant Lebanese laureate Kahlil Gibran. The Prophet.

The Un-original But Still New Prophet

And then a musician came to him and said “speak to us of music, how is our music not original?” And he answered “Music invades our sensory organs through repetitive and sometimes annoying arrangements of sound. Because we have only 12 notes in every octave it is extremely difficult to create a melody that hasn’t yet been played either in ones mind or on an instrument. Combine that with the fact most of us have been listening to music since our first lullaby and have no doubt watched enough television to have jingles burned deeply into our psyches that its impossible not to be influenced by tunes we have heard before when we create music. One could pick up a guitar to start playing something perhaps having just heard that “Nationwide is on your side” commercial and unconscientiously letting the tune drift into what one was translating from mind through the guitar strings. That’s not to say that you can’t make an original song, but it must have come to you from somewhere in your past listening.” It’s called inspiration. Perhaps artists should be wondering where they came up with an original before accusing others of stealing their originals. Music is meant to be shared, and if you want to call yourself a musician do so without believing you invented sound itself. (Disclaimer: I do not take legal responsibly if the Nationwide jingle is bouncing around in your head right now)

And then a poet came to him and said “speak to us of poetry, are not poets original?” And he answered, “Poetry is a way of painting words into feelings and emotions. Poets help us to see ourselves in their flowing word canvas. We are all born poets, it’s just that far too many of us forget that once we grow up and allow our creative thoughts to integrate with the clutter of day to day bullshit. Poets observe and report through the eyes of creative pureness. Poems range in style and can be crystal clear to some while totally indiscernible to others. It is meant to be felt and understood not analyzed. Poetry is an expression of the soul often written while at our most naked and vulnerable selves, when we express our innermost thoughts in words. In that respect it is original, but are not words merely combinations of letters? We have only 26 letters from which to choose our order yet somehow we manage to confuse the usage of English language. But their there they’re, everything will be fine. You poets are indeed original human beings with fragile ego’s so for the sake of avoiding another few years of therapy then yes, poetry is indeed original. But remember it’s the receiver of the poet’s message who perceives the originality not the poet.” It’s called inspiration.o

 

 

Next a shady Politian came forward and said to him “Speak to us of politics. Are not all of my political ideas original?” And after regaining his composure from sarcastic laughing the prophet answered, “Politics and political opinions are like unwashed armpits. If you stay at home with them you can handle the stench of your own opinion but if you venture out in public best to deodorize your opinions if you value friendships. Its impossible for one to have their own original political opinion because every controversy known to humanity has been discussed, re-discussed, and-over-discussed a million times without an answer. Whatever stance you choose to take has already been taken. In addition, millions and millions of dollars have been spent to tell you what your opinion on various political topics are either through subliminal ads or motivational scam artists disguised as news agents with television shows who’s sole purpose is to anger you into an opinion based strictly on your religion and/or political party of choice. That is not to say you can’t have an original non political opinion of your own but to do that you would need to research the subject through trustworthy methods of information, then sit alone with only your thoughts and think it through. Devoid of outside influences if you concentrate long enough it is indeed possible to arrive at an original conclusion, but it is extremely difficult with all the information super highways and abundance of social media outlet trolls prowling around in the hopes of forcing their opinion upon you. Otherwise we simply verbally regurgitate someone else’s spoken thoughts.” That would be inspiring. In my opinion of course.

Next a scientist came to the Prophet and asked, “Why is there religion when we have science? Is not The Origin Of The Species truly original? I mean it‘s right there in the title” The prophet shook his head. Every species contains originalities specific to that species but humans have an option between science and religion. Both religion and science serve a purpose for humanity. Science it the study of the world around us and religion is the study of ourselves. Science helps us to understand how and why things work but it can’t explain everything. It is based on testing and re-testing data to prove hypothesis and formulate conclusions. Religion attempts to help teach us about who we are, how we should treat one another, and to love all creatures great and small. Science is like a pesky mosquito to religion that becomes more and more difficult to swat. It‘s a clash of philosophies, ideology vrs. Cause and effect”

“The main problem religion faces in this context is most times it’s not a choice, more of a birthright. Often ones religion is determined by their parents or by nature of where they are born and they become defined by their rituals and beliefs. So religion is given, not original beliefs that spontaneously combust. (not counting Moses flaming bush) Religion is philosophical set of tenets based on faith not experimentations as does science. One must have faith that the religion they are following has all the correct answers, and the leaders of that religion who give those answers are interpreting the holy texts correctly. One Bible or Torah or Koran can be interpreted in many different ways which give us a massive variety of religions. We have used religion to explain the unexplainable since the dawn of time, assigning gods to nearly everything in nature. So it is useful in explaining the unexplainable and in teaching people how to act correctly as it applies to living together on earth when done correctly. If your religion includes science and instructs you on how to interact with the world then you are indeed lucky, and may possibly have found a true religion. If on the other hand you have become enlightened and reached a state of living that excludes the need for a conglomerate of teachings and beliefs you are even more lucky, because you can appreciate others beliefs while not allowing them to infect yours.” So religion is helpful in adjusting your soul and science is helpful if adjusting your knowledge. You must strike your own balance, but do us all a favor. Don’t attempt to force either upon the rest of us, let us all find our own way. Since the dawn of organized religion they have been perverted into excuses to create wars. If you take a scientific approach and analyze history as it applies to wars you will find just about every war has a religious contention at it’s core. You can’t kill your way to peace.”

And then a child came to him and asked “Well then Prophet, if musicians, poets, scientists, and theologians all contend they deal in originality and may perhaps be wrong then what exactly is original thought and how do we achieve it? Do we learn it in school?” The profit thought cautiously before he answered “Let us start with what’s not original thought. Original thought is not learned in a school or institution. Education is a great thing and though it may seem empowering it can’t give you original thought it can only prepare you for it . Many of the young hipsters of the day believe that being able to quote famous philosphers or scientists makes them appear smarter than others because they possess the power of original thought but it doesn’t. It only makes them seem arrogant and out of touch. Education only gives us the foundations to develop original thought. The very second we enter the world we are being shaped by those around us. So to begin with we need to discard all the distractions of life. In order to achieve original thought you must put down the books, turn off all your electronic devices, and reach deep inside the self and get in touch with your soul, for it is the soul that is the one true original. Get educated then be your own inspiration. An open mind will show some ignorance but a closed mind will show all of it.” Meditate on that….. PEACE

 

 

 

Vote For Me And I’ll Set You Free

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Yea brothers and sisters, The Existential Baker is considering a run for the Whitehouse. I mean why not? I’m all about change and that’s pretty much what we all want isn’t it? We don’t need politicians, entertainers, or CEO’s to tell us the government is broken, we are all intelligent enough to figure that out ourselves. The government cracked the exact same time the Liberty Bell did but its become more of a huge rift than a crack. Look what’s going on today, people are cheering for what may very well become the first Insulter In Chief of the nation. They’re using messages of anger, hate, and name calling to incite us into making ridiculous decisions just because it will be a change. Do you want change only for the sake of change? Fuck it guys, I could be that change just as easily as a reality show host that is based on deception like all reality shows, a doctor, a CEO, or another same old same old Politian. The difference is I’ll be honest because I‘m not backed by any big business. Truth is, no big business in its right mind would give me a second look. One hell of good a credential when you really think about it.

I mean seriously, look at all the presidential contenders. They look, dress, and talk like they are already for their position in Disney’s Hall Of Presidents. Are you telling me the country couldn’t be run by a group of mellow headed people in tee shirts and sandals better than those dressed in the Wall Street Military uniforms of uniformity ? We’re nothing but votes to those freshly dry cleaned suit wearers, they couldn’t care less about our personal struggles unless we might make good sound bites in their State Of The Union addresses. They are all for alternative fuel while accepting campaign contributions from big oil companies. A candidate backed by war profiteers and tax shelter seeking billionaires. No taxing the rich, no giveaways to the poor, no relief for the “working class”. What is the working class anyway? Someone working a minimum wage job to feed their family is still a worker, just not in the same class as those a little better off. Trickle down economics trickles into the banks of the rich and then disappears. All that money spent on elections someone has to be owing someone else an awful lot of favors. But they will reward us by halting immigration. They have plans to stop immigration so long as their families and servants are already legal. They tell you what you want to hear, what you think the solution is and make you think it was their idea to begin with. They will pamper the religious masses just to kiss their asses and get their vote. Once elected they don’t care but I still will. Vote for me AND I’LL set you free!

Hey, heres some good news guys, they all want to make sure that healthcare insurance companies cover Viagra, but God forgive you if you use your savings to buy condoms, they won’t be covered. Neither will birth control pills ladies, put some cheap aspirin between your legs and deal with your hard man the way God intended. On your knee’s. Check it out, its in the bible somewhere. And if it isn’t they’ll find a scripture that can be bent just enough to in sinuate it. So they are happy to get your man hard for you but please don’t come to our healthcare plans for your “lady problems” like unwanted pregnancies or other “crazy women issues.” Just keep your man happy and hard and while your on your knees say a little prayer to God to apologize for being so……slu….Um, Forward.

So you ask why should you vote for me? Aren’t I one of those tree hugging liberal hippies? Your Goddamn right I’m a tree hugger! Those fucking tree’s give us oxygen, give homes to millions of species of birds and other animals, offer fruits and nuts for all to eat, and they go on and on through harsh winters, brutally dry summers, winds, rains, and whatever nature can throw at them and they still stand tall exuding life giving assistance for anything and everything. When the mighty tree’s do die, they take it on themselves to nourish Mother Earth herself. If that doesn’t deserve a hug I don’t know what does! Am I a tree hugger? Hell yes motherfuckers I am a tree hugger, the bigger question is are you, and if not, why not!

So that’s Why I am considering running for president, because I believe Americans deserve better than the crap choices being offered today. Choosing the lesser of two evils is still an evil. Don’t buy their horseshit phony plans of keeping us wealthy and secure, all they are selling is the illusion of wealth and security so we can go about our daily business comforted in the fact that we are safe. You know, like we hear every time violence strikes a community, that kind of thing just never happens here. Of course it does, it happens anywhere and everywhere. Violence has no geographic limitations and not a single one of them can guarantee our safety. Neither can I, but here’s the difference. I won’t lie to you and make you feel all warm and fuzzy, I’ll give it to you straight. Or gay, what difference does it make? Live and let live, stop telling other people how to live their lives. No red or blue states, united states. United! Like everyone get their shit together and worry about their own lives, mind their own business. We are all one single species, human beings. So if I do decide to run I’m asking you to vote for me not because it’s a change, or I’m not a Politian, but because if you vote for me I’ll set you free! Thanx Y’all Peace out!

 

Understanding Nothing (Transcendental Meditation)

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nothing

 

J. T. Hilltop

Chapter III

I laid there in the sand totally exhausted, happy, and satisfied beyond belief. The smile on my face was so enormous my jawbone ached and my eyes were nearly closed. I had just had the most incredible sex in my life and I couldn’t move. Desiree began to gently shake my shoulder apparently ready to go one more time but I was spent. I looked up saying ”Sorry babe I just couldn‘t….oh, Dr. Kha, its you!” The fog began to clear from my mind, “I see you make visit to paradise JT. Must be careful not to get too wrapped up in desires, make you feel good but also cloud judgment. But she teach you that not me, I teach you everything about nothing. If you want see opposite universe it take much more than acupuncture, incense, and meditation, you need Transcendental Medication. Tomorrow we put you in sensory depravation tank with special punctures dipped in mixture of essences from Belladonna, Angel Trumpet, and Nutmeg Paste. Essence will free mind and allow to see without eyes. Transcendental Medication. Ownry then JT will you see truth, opposite universe, and maybe even understand nothing. Tomorrow is day you begin journey to meet God face to face.”

 

 

Meet God face to face?! Well this is gonna be pretty interesting considering I can barely remember having ever believed in God. Oh I know there was a time but only because it was what my Mom told me to believe and I trusted her implicitly. Why would she lie about God? But around age six or seven my best friend and his family died in a house fire two days after his birthday party. Mom told me my friend was up in heaven now where he’ll be safe. I asked why God wanted the family and why he made their house go on fire and all she could tell me was that God had a plan and we shouldn’t question him, but I wasn’t buying that bullshit. I started having my doubts about this God character and his so called plan so I made up ways for him to prove himself to me. Instead of “now I lay me down to sleep” I engaged in conversations at bedtime with God. Only they weren’t dialogues they were monologues. Night after night. I only asked for small signs, no giant challenges, no plagues or forty day storms or anything like that. Something simple like make my covers fall off or scratch the wall. I never asked him to beat up my older brother or return my best friend and his family back to life or anything profound, just you know like leave a light on, move a book or something. Anything. But night after night, no signs, no answers. Mom took me to church on Sundays and even at that young age I could see it was filled with hypocrites singing and praying. Old man Martin who was perpetually drunk in his backyard all dressed up in suit and tie singing, hands folded. Old lady Brown kneeling on the pew. In whispers the adults called her a Jezebel. I didn’t know what that meant at the time but by the way the adults showed distain I knew it wasn’t a good thing. Years later I learned kneeling was a common occurrence for her but apparently kneeling was okay only if it was on the pews on Sundays. By the time I turned eleven I was already a full fledged atheist but I continued my religious schooling to appease Mom. I was even so fascinated or maybe hopeful I studied other religions as I got older. I learned more about God by more names than I thought possible and became more sure than ever that God doesn’t exist. At least not the God I’d been taught. And now after all that I’m meeting God face to face tomorrow! At least according to Dr. Kha. Well maybe God’ll explain why he never even tapped on my wall.

I was nervously excited as I entered the THC clinic the next morning. A nurse led me down into the basement and laid me down on a cot that was chained to a sort of crane with chains and pulleys. Like a harsh torture hammock. I looked up with a quick glimpse believing the nurse to be Ambrosina. She smiled at me, winked and whispered, “Later JT. I’ll see you later.” Before I could even answer Dr. Kha came in with a small silver table filled with needles and a bowl of syrupy liquid. “Must be excited JT, yes? First I dip pricks in essence, place them at precise point and then close you in tank. No incense, no music today, ownry serenity. When ready we let you free from tank and journey begin. Relax and enjoy enlightenment my son.” I laid there motionless, a combination of anxiety and excitement as Dr. Kha placed the dripping needles about my body like acupunctures. The needles were warm and wet. Six on my forehead, two in each ear, two in my neck, and at least a dozen in each leg. I could feel the essences making they’re way into my blood and it warmed my veins. I instantly relaxed the anxiety faded away leaving only a smile. I felt at comfort with the feeling because it wasn’t foreign, it was like the old days just before the LSD kicked in. I was about to start tripping like I had in my drug experimentation days and it warmed my soul with fond memories.

I was strapped in the hammock and lowered down into a tank of warm water as the lid of the tank closed leaving me in complete darkness. Total darkness with no sound at all. No music, no one near me, it kinda made me feel vulnerable, like a lamb waiting for slaughter. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. Anxious, confined, alone yet strangely serene. Alone with my own thoughts. As time passed I began to wonder if perhaps this is a big waste of time. I became angry I was allowing this to happen to me. I wanted out. I called to Dr. Kha a number of times but he didn’t respond. I was alone and my anger faded into depression. I remembered the five stages of grief and realized I had just denied TM, then bargained to get out, got angry and finally depressed. I was now finally at acceptance. Total darkness. Alone with nothing but an irritating voice in my head insisting I was missing some major point about nothingness. My head was swirling with thoughts or maybe dreams of all sorts of shit, memories from way long ago, places I have been to, totally random things. I think I had some very bizarre dreams. I’m not even sure what’s a dream or what is a thought? From surreal to harsh reality it was one episode after another. The dream or thoughts seemed to float, moving as though filled with helium, the further they went away the calmer I got. After about…wait, that’s odd. I have no idea how long it’s been. I have no idea what time it was or how long I’d even been alone here in the dark. Had I fallen asleep? Has time stopped for me? As I pondered again the readmitted claustrophobia and panic subsided, sliding me into complete acceptance. Everything is serene, calm, and quiet. Existence is not as special or amazing as I thought. Oh I’ll give you the complexity of being a living breathing thing is quite extraordinary, what with networks of communication inside me traveling at mind bending speed, blood, oxygen, even the way I need to eat and void unnecessary remnants from food is amazing. And evolution, well what is evolution other than strategy of survival? But the FACT that I or anything exists here, right here right now on this seemingly huge planet is so remarkably insignificant when I think about it in Universal terms.

Super Nova’s, Black Holes, Quasars, and galaxies, those are amazing. Time and space being curved or the possibility of alternate universes, that’s amazing. I’m nothing, just a teeny weenie blip of nothingness in time and space. I giggled as I watched that thought float away when I thought I heard a voice. “Now you are understanding nothing JT. You are ready to see alternate reality.” It was Dr. Kha’s voice but how? Must be a camera or some sort of electronic monitoring he used. “No use camera, no use device JT, ownry listen to you.” Wait! What did he say? Listening to me? But I’m not talking I’m only thinking. “Not thinking JT, talking. Not words out loud but still talking. And we hear you. You are ready to come out now.”

The pulley’s lifted the makeshift cot upwards as the top opened brining me not into an office but in a clearing in a mountain wilderness blistering with life and color. Oh my God the colors were so deep and rich, so real. I was inside a melting crayola colored landscape beside a stream. Dr, Kha was there along with two strangers. “Come sit down with us JT, we share herb of life… You come to me asking why there is something instead of nothing, yes? I ask you now, why it cannot be something and nothing?” I asked him who the two men were and he told me they would lead me to God after I finished my lessons. He handed me a long pipe which I took readily inhaling almost instantly. The smoke had a minty smoke flavor and was not in the smallest way irritating. I held it in like it was pot until it exploded inside my head. Actually exploded. My head must have grown ten inches. Images where fractured as if they were photos layered on top of each other and superimposed. I tried to stand up but instead floated, or better hovered effortlessly as the three men laughed. “I don’t see what’s so funny, everything is out of focus. Motion, Time, sound, even life is out of focus.” The men continued laughing until Dr. Kha pointed to me, “Seem you forget pants JT. You come ownry in underwear. You are right everything out of focus. That how world really is. You see on quantum level now, you move with quantum motion and see with quantum eyes. You think unreal but exact opposite. Everything around you in constant motion JT, but your non quantum eyes cannot perceive. That why most people can never see God. I believe if most people really were able to see God they be scared, not elated. You see realities now JT, in your normal world nothing really what it seem to be. You are going on journey most people cannot handle, that what Transcendental Medication do my son, it open your mind and eyes to realities clouded by limitation of human perceptions. Dreams are real perceptions JT, ownry seem too abstract to you to be real. You not have pants on because it dream that haunt you as child. That’s from the drugs. The medication will help you confront many uncomfortable dreams you have had but also some very good dreams. And dreams you have not had yet. A new era of perceptions waits for you JT, you were chosen for this journey. Your two guides are messengers of God and I am your handler. The three of us will lead you on journey of everything , something, nothing, and true God after you visit Ambrosina for lesson on desire and power. Go to her, she waits for you and you must first understand yourself before you can know nothing.” Dr. Kha smiled at me like a teacher, or a father maybe, “Take your boat.” I looked at the stream which had my little row boat from my previous visit tied to a tree. “Just get in boat JT, and follow river. You will know when to…. get off…Ha ha ha. Then when you come back we discuss your perceptions” What an odd sense of humor, an old man like Kha using a sexual double entendre about “getting off” I thought to myself as I got in the boat. Dr. Kha untied the rowboat setting me free, “Not as old as you think, but much older as well JT.” I heard all three men laughing as the boat headed to wherever the current took it. How the fuck could he hear my thoughts? I’d better be careful what I think.

The ride didn’t take very long because I could see a woman in the distance waiting on shore. I wished the boat over to her and it went of its own accord. When I got out I was back in the island paradise where Ambrosina had so totally controlled and dominated me bringing me to the most incredible orgasm of my life. I got off the boat with profound anticipation and walked up to the woman waiting. I knew I was looking at Ambrosina but she appeared so different. Her hair tied in a ponytail wearing very little make up. She was dressed casual yet somehow stern. A beige corduroy button down dress with matching skirt. In place of the sexy shoes were low heeled casual loafers. Sensible shoes! She appeared demure and intimidated as she walked up to me, placed her mouth right at my ear an whispered, “If you want me you have to take me tonight. You have to want me bad enough to force me.” As she walked away I watched her ass bounce lightly back and forth giving me a semi erection. Despite the changes I wanted her in the worst way. The lust built up inside my loins and I knew I would do whatever I had to in order to make love to Ambrosina again. But how to start, I’ve never forced anyone before, that’s rape! Ambrosina turned around looked at me with her incredible sensuous eyes. I glanced down at her lips as she mouthed, “I’m ready JT, come take me. I’m here to service you. I give consent but I want it hard!” I knew I had the power to ravage her and it felt invigorating. I had this tingling feeling I was really gonna dig being Transcendentally Medicated and my now full on erection nodded in agreement.

TBC