Bounced Reality Check (Existentialist Lament)

check real

 

 

It’s reality
But who’s
Mine or yours
Is there a reality
Beyond my perception of truth
Is my existence absolute
Or is my world
Built on fantasies
Fallacies
Deceptions and lies
An uneven keel
Is society real
What is life
Silicon emotions at
The swallow of a pill
Gray matter degraded
By advertising swill
Corporate domination
Tearing down our will
Binary connections
Robbing us of skill
Chained to our touchtone
We all know the drill
How can this be real
All you can eat GMO buffet
Served the American way
Seasoned with poison
Paid with accounts receivable
Unbelievable…inconceivable
Filling up our gullets
Stuffing political bank accounts
Betraying the people
Corporations aren’t natal
Advertising is fatal
Its chemical and psychological warfare
And big business don’t fucking care
The American nightmare
Reality disappears into the night air

Its not surprising that advertising is compromising by emphasizing
That they know our wants and needs
They’re fertilizing and sterilizing our minds and cognizant realizing
Super-sizing through product baptizing
Disenfranchising the monster it feeds
Demoralizing
We’re idolizing what they’re franchising It’s downright tranquilizing and hypnotizing
Disguising the subliminal evil deeds

Subverting perverting converting reasserting inverting and spurting hate
Reminiscing something’s missing but insisting and assisting to dismiss love
Rage, rage against insanity
Reality is society
Society is a lie
Social order has become
A never-ending landfill
Mental garbage
Loading and uploading
Polluting our minds
And our homes
Slowly eating away at our brains
Tranquilizing our thoughts
Infiltrating our very essence
Reshaping our ego’s
While we smile
In our houses of worship
Real or imagined
Open or confined
Free you mind
Or follow blind

Original Thought, The Prophet II (A Shady Sequel)

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

 

 

 

THE ARTIST

artist

 

 

Standing naked before you

Vulnerable and afraid

Anguish in word

Trepidation in song

Emotionally blurred

Trembling brushes

Their soul on display

Frightened waits the artist

Awaiting applause

Fearing the ridicule

But our art is our cause

 

Using potions and lotions to mask our emotions

As we parade our wounds and our scars

For your gratification we suffer frustration

Then go drowning our sorrows at bars

 

A cavalcade of mental lacerations

Through the center of town

See the procession of distressed musings

The Splendor of our pain

In plain sight for all to enjoy

We’ll allow you a glimpse

Into a world of macabre

Struggles we faced

With love we tussle and toil

A labor of love

To help shed a light

Bring radiance to the obscure

Lucidity in an enigmatic abstract

Luster from our souls

Wounded yet strong

Brighten the path of our pith

Allowing you to see into our thoughts

 

To see yourself

Art is a mirror

A reflection of you

Distortedly real

In my mind

Harshly we judge ourselves so the judges won’t give us new pains

We carry on

Enduring torture in living

Tempered by numbness

To help show the way

The teardrops flow at the strum of a string

Someone singing a song of despair

Painful pictures of reality

Or sweet memories to canvass

In word, in song, in pictures

We see life and report

Groaning from lessons so hard

Disparagement festers in my heart

Flowing through my fingertips

Connected to my mind

Creative thought

Born of aches

Shared internal

Shaken from sneers

Fragile

Ready to bare the soul

Reality is sometimes hard

Not always kind

If you’re sighted yet still remain blind

We let you see inside with our creative wings in flight

We struggle in our darkness so you can see the light

Artists…..show them love but

Handle with care

 

Transcendental Medication (Life Philosphy Through medicinally enhanced Accupunture) episode XI

truth

The Truth Did Not Set Me Free
J.T. Hilltop

After being chased by a pterodactyl wannabe and the legion of angry rattlesnakes the quiet three mile hike was welcome. I had no clue crossing dimensions could be so unreal but then again, I didn’t know alternate dimensions were real to begin with. Castomar seemed unaffected by the heat and bugs but perhaps that was because the bugs were all busy feasting on me. By the time we reached the cabin I was half eaten alive as well as mentally and physically fatigued. We entered the cabin which was in the middle of nowhere, perhaps even in the literal sense all things considered. Atop a heavily wooded mountain sat this small cabin, or maybe its more of a huge shack but it seemed sturdy enough and functional. As we entered there was a large room to the right with nothing in it and to the left a small kitchen with a eat in table. Castomar pointed to the hallway, “my room is on the left, yours on the right, the bathroom at the end of the hall there. There is water in the refrigerator and tea in the cupboard. Help yourself.” I looked around, clearly it was designed my a minimalist with no concept of decorum. I pointed to the big empty room, “What’s that room for?” Castomar disappeared into his room and returned equipped with bow and arrows a large dog trailing behind him. “That’s the learning room kiddo, that’s where your gonna spend the night until you find your learning spot. I’m going out to catch us some dinner. Have some tea then get some rest, I’ll be back when I have something for us to eat.”
The learning room, was he out of his fucking mind? There isn’t a single thing in that room, I mean nothing save a lone window. “What do you mean find my learning spot, there’s nothing there?” Castomar was frustrated , “Didn’t Kha tell you anything? Oh shit of course not, Castomar will show him. What you mean to say is you don’t see anything in that room but that doesn’t mean its empty. Look kiddo, you relax and have some tea while me and Travis get us some dinner and I’ll explain it all after we eat.” He walked outside without explaining the dog so was unable to hear me when I said, “What the hell is it with these guys and tea?” On the way out of the cabin I could swear the dog chuckled as if he understood what I said, but that’s not possible. Or is it?
Exhausted from the hike and dimension jumping I headed for the kitchen to take his advice. There was a small stove with a black kettle which I filled with water and placed on the burner. In the cupboard was a variety of tea’s, only one of which I recognized. “Guess it’s chamomile tea for now.” I poured a large cup and went to check out my room. The room was a small but functional with an unneeded dresser but a large very comfortable looking bed complete with nightstand. The room was adorned with Native American arts and crafts, a set of four dream catchers at the foot of the bed. I felt like I was in some ancient Native American spiritual ceremonial quarters but it was surprisingly serene. Not sure if it’s the tea or the room but I was becoming very sleepy, totally at ease so I hopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. Outside the forest was jam packed with all the sounds I expected, hooting owls, scratching crickets, howling wolves as well as a number of unfamiliar animal noises. Outside this tiny cabin was a world teeming with some kind of life while inside I was alone with my thought which turned immediately to sleeping. I surrendered to the comfort of the bed.
At some point I heard Castomar and his dog enter the cabin and could tell he was in the kitchen. I got up and walked to see the dog coming down the hall towards Castomar’s room. As he walked past I heard someone say, “Remember the crow, the crow will show.” I could hear Castomar at the sink so it wasn’t him but no one else was around. I looked at the dog suspiciously and asked, “Did you just say that? Are you a talking dog?” He stopped in front of me staring waiting for me to pet him but said nothing. I’m not sure exactly what kind of dog he was, he looked kind of like a Retriever but hairy as an afghan hound. I patted his head, he moved on but before he went into the room I heard it again, “Remember the crow, the crow will show.” Someone was fucking with my head.
When I got to the kitchen I noticed Castomar was cleaning some sort of flying animal in the sink. I say flying animal because I’m not sure if it’s a bird or a winged monkey the way things have been around here so far. “What’s that?” He stopped cleaning and turned to me with a huge smile, “We’re having Ringneck Clomart for dinner” He stepped aside revealing three dead animals, two plucked and clean and one that looked like a cross between a pheasant and a duck the size of a small turkey. The feathers on the counter were brightly colored former plumage, red, green, and orange. They looked almost jubilant although I suspect the families of thee fowls would disagree about the jubilant terminology. If they could talk that is, and well, who knows? “What’s a Ringneck Clomart?” Beaming with pride he returned to the sink, “Only the tastiest and hardest to catch fowl around these parts. I got two with one arrow and the third as it attempted to escape Castomar. I’ll put one in the freezer, we can share one tonight, the other tomorrow. It’s the tastiest thing you will ever eat JT.” He wrapped two of them up placing one in the fridge and the other in the freezer compartment on top, then skewered the last on a spit. “You relax, I’m gonna cook the bird and have a mug.” He poured something into two mugs, handed one to me, “Here kiddo, have some meade, it’ll do you good.” I had learned at this point to just shut up and do what he says. Castomar yelled out loud, “Come on Travis, outside boy!” The dog came running out of the room sneering as he ambled past me. “The crow.” I squeezed my temples together, “Don’t start that shit again Travis!”
Reduced to talking back to a dog I tried to find solace in the meade. It tasted like a liquid honey cough drop only not as sweet. Had a little burn to it but I kinda liked that, goes down like bourbon but tastes like honey. The more I drank the more lightheaded I got like I was sipping grain alcohol or something. By the time Castomar came back with the cooked Clomart I was downright tipsy, “Hey Castomar, what’s happening my man?” He laughed heartily, “Enjoyed the meade did you?” He had cooked the fowl outside on a spit and it looked like the most amazing huge rotisserie bird I’ve ever seen, twice the size of a chicken. He plopped it down at the small kitchen table and motioned for me to join him. He grabbed one of the legs ripping it off, “Don’t got no forks or knives, grab what you want.” We ate dinner Castomar style, ripping an chomping on appendages of Clomart tossing pieces to Travis who waited patiently at Castomar’s feet. Travis never said a word, not even a thanks. I have to admit it was a delicious if somewhat barbaric dinner.
After we ate Castomar brought me to the learning room, “Before I teach you it’s important you find your learn spot. No two people have the same learn spot, the universe has chosen yours and will not reveal anything to you until you find the spot.” I eyed him suspiciously to see if he was pranking me or something. He was quite serious. “Okay, so here’ what were gonna do. You will have a cup of Psilocate tea then enter the room. I’ll be resting in my bed until morning. If you are in your spot when I get here I can begin your enlightenments, if not, we will need to try again another time.” I was slightly confused, “How will I know when I found my spot?” A warm smile came across his face, “The spot will let you know Justin, drink your tea and find your spot.” I felt slightly vulnerable hearing him call me Justin. Something in the way he said it struck a familiar chord, as if the words came from my Mom but in his voice. But my Moms been gone for years. One thing Kha said is ringing true, things really aren’t what they seem.
When I turned to look at Castomar he was gone, a cup of steaming tea sat at the table. I did as told, finished the bitter tasting tea then began the search for “my spot.” I felt silly walking around the room waiting for something to happen. How the hell am I gonna do this? I decided I would just keep going around randomly, sitting for a few seconds and see what happens. After four hours of frustration I felt nothing spot worthy. Not one single thing felt different. A gust of wind blew the door open and a green bird flew into the room. It looked like a normal bird, like a bird from my world except for its unusually bright green coloring. It flew in four circle around the room then came to rest on the sill of the window. I stared curiously as it just sat there motionless. For twenty five minutes it didn’t move and neither did I, when just as suddenly as it flew in it sprouts its wings, flew directly toward me stopping by the side of my head for one second, just long enough to say. “Travis sent me” before flying back out the door. “What the fuck is going on here?” A bird just talked to me saying a dog told him to. Are they partners or something? What the hell? Suddenly it dawned on me. That bird was a bright green crow, that’s why it looked familiar. I ran to the spot under the window sill and sat down. Believe it or kiss my ass I knew straight away that it was my spot! I found my learn spot, I was sure of it. I didn’t move for the rest of the night, waiting anxiously but patiently for Castomar to return.
Castomar finally walked into the room smiling wide, “I knew you would find it. Kha knew you would too. Not everyone does ya know?” I felt an enormous sense of pride as he came and sat with me. “Lets get started kiddo, we have a lot to cover. Kha tells me you have an intensely inquisitive mind that remains open. We have shown you things about the universe most never see because Kha believes in you. There are many forms of life, many laws of nature, many new and unique things in this world far beyond what most ever see. Universes’ are like bubbles, soft and pliant edges that can rub up against each other shape around each other without bursting. Inside each universe lie an endless amount of mysteries, Kha will get to them, I am here to tell you of your world. Infinitesimally small in the scheme of things, but important none the less. Your world is framed with four truths.”
I chose to do as I had been instructed, silently listening but the questions were building up already, the first being why is he saying my world. What world is he from? Whatever, I just want to hear about these four truths right now. “The four horseman of the apocalypse, four seasons, four strands in your DNA, and four noble truths. The concept of four is etched deeply into your cultures and your selves because it is a reflection of the universal four, the four forces. The horsemen represent, conquest, war, famine, and death, the noble truths are suffering, craving, death, an acceptance. Even the stages of grief were originally four, denial, anger, depression, and acceptance, only bargaining has been added in the modern model. Your DNA is a series of double helix’s held together by strands of four guanines. This ain’t no accident kiddo, its mirroring of the four forces that define your universe. The four forces are what make life in your universe possible. The truths, the horses both represent life stages. We are born, we survive, we reproduce, we die. Truths are unchanging rules and these four truths can never change in your universe. Religious scholars interpret them more dark in nature, suffering, famine, war, but all truths come down to the four unchanging forces of life. The weakest of these forces you all know well, gravity. Strong as it may seem keeping everything on earth, and pulling everything in space towards it, keeping all planets in orbits gravity is still the weakest yet its gravity that binds everything. Gravity is survival. The other three forces are electromagnetic, strong nuclear, and weak nuclear, and in terms of your universe they represent birth, reproduction, and death. These are highly complicated energy forms even your most brilliant physicists grapple with them so I will explain them not so much on a technical level but on a vibration level, on their energy. The sun is a huge ball of pure energy that sends portions of energy to earth. The sun is life. You absorb the energy, convert it to strength. It makes you warm, it colors your skin, but you feel it and take it for granted. You have spent years absorbing energy so where do you think that energy goes?” I remained silent. “Time for you to answer kiddo, you can speak.” Castomar was smiling and I liked him more an more as the day wore on, “Um, in the things we do, like walking or push ups, or like even catching Ringneck Clomart?” Castomar laughed heartily, “yes, like catching Ringneck Clomart. But everything that lives uses that energy. Every species consumes something else to absorb that energy, like you an I absorbed all the energy the Clomart had an now its energy iss part of us. When a male and female combine energie, or DNA’s, the result is another of its own speciess carrying not only information from both parents but energies. That’s electromagnetism, or birth. The sun sends own energy through electromagnetic waves to insure birth occurs, the second truth you learned but the first truth of your universe. Birth and survival, without those you would not be able to live. The next two truths are important for the continuation of life for you, reprouction and death. Those are the four realitie of your univers, all other realities can change and life will adapt to that change. That’s a lot to take in, we can pick this up tomorrow. Have some meade plus, the enhanced mead will help you sleep.” He poured me another mug of meade and placed a capsule in it which began instantly smoking like dry ice. “Drink this down and take a short nap. When you wake up Travis is going to take you across dimensions for some perspective. You must be exhausted. I chugged down the meade plus because he was right, I was very tired. So tired it never even registered that he told me that a once I awoke I would be traveling across dimensions with a talking dog.
TBC

The Sick Bastards Network presents Naked Chef

chefcomp

The hottest kitchen competition in town)
Rated WSC (Warped Sexual Content) Parental discretion advised. In fact make that everyone’s discretion

Its hotter than Hells kitchen, bigger and harder than any of the Top Chefs, more dangerous than having it Chopped. Its here and its sure to make the Doughboy rise and moisten Melba‘s peaches. The Buck Bone Naked Chef lets it all hang out in a bare bones competition that leaves no sharpening stone unturned. What kind of creations will come up as three naked contestants ply their culinary trade and anything else that pops up while in the buff. That’s right three naked chefs competing for the coveted title of The Buck Bone Naked Chef.
Tonight We’ll see if Jack can whip up your soufflé or cause it to fall short. Will Destiny’s skilled hands get the dough to rise or will she end up going down? Will Stan fluff his meringue into stiff peaks or will he fold over. Join our three judges Ben Dover, Hal Apeno, and Helen Back as they choose who’s naked body raises their bar and who goes home fully dressed and unsatisfied…

Well good evening folks I’m your host, Hugh Jass so come join me on this episode of Naked Chef. First lets introduce our contestants. From Pullet Pennsylvania, Master Chef of “The Back Door”, Jack Mioff. Jack? “I’m Jack Mioff and I work 16 hour days so I won’t stop until I’ve given every ounce I have.” …Ho ho, he sure looks like he can go the distance, next here from Deepcavern Nevada , chef Destiny Dancer who heads up the culinary staff at “Swinging On The Maypole” in downtown Twin Peaks, Destiny? “Me and my girls are coming for you boys if your not up for it now you will be when I finish you!” ….Hoho, threatening words from such a pretty lady. I’m even feeling it,haha. And finally, Stan Dinghard, the very popular New York City chef at “The G spot”,.. Stan? “ When I pull out my secret weapon from under my apron it will bring them to their knees.”…. Oh boy, sounds like he’s got more than just a few tricks under that apron, I think we’re gonna have some very stiff competition tonight. So Let’s get right to it contestants. In the first round we’ll be looking to see what our naked culinary competitors can come up with using the secret ingredients, Zucchini and Oysters. Contestants, strip off your clothes and get to work. You have 20 minutes to pull it off.

Okay here we go folks, Jack has turned on the Hobart 10 gallon mixer and ..Oh my god look at him go. The mixers on low and he’s rolling his hips in time to the machine, very suggestive I think he’s trying to throw Destiny off her game, lets listen in on the judges, “ Oh my dog Hal it looks to me like he’s hanging bit too close to the mixing bowl and….Ohh snap, that had to hurt!”.. “I’ll bet it did Helen, not sure how he’ll get that out of the whisk. I would have used a paddle myself whada you think Ben?” “I think Destiny has great melons.” “Just like you to notice Ben but either way Jack’s’s gonna have to get that thing out of the mixer.” …. Okay, lets go on over and see just what Destiny has working up. Well look at this folks Destiny is giving you viewers quite a treat as she rolls out her dough. That’s some serious bouncing right there, haha. .. Back to the judges, “Holy crap Helen what ees she doing with dat zucchini?” “I can tell you this Hal, the way she is washing that thing the zucchini may come squeaky clean but I can’t wait to see how it makes Stan Dinghard deal with the sight, he hasn’t taken his eyes off her.” No kidding Helen, Hal you seem to be staring yourself. I hope they can get back to work..”….. They aren’t kidding folks, Stan hasn’t moved a muscle. Well hasn’t moved a muscle aside from the obvious hanging chad muscle, haha…. Tell you the truth I’m not sure she’s washing the zucchini it looks to me its more like she’ greasing it for something. Lets go see if Chef Dinghard has his head back in the game. I see he’s not standing still, he’s just having trouble getting his oysters off. Seems the shell is clamming up him, hahaha. But it looks like all three are making headway. Whoa, hear that bell, 2 minute warning constants, time to wrap things up and start plating for the judges.
While our contestants plate their appetizers lets meet our judges for tonight’s competition. From Mexico, the man who puts then heat in the meat of Mexican food everywhere, Hal Apeno. “Tank a you, tank a you, I am berry pleased to be here.”…Okay Hal. A man of few word, haha, and now the lady who has gone from being a homeless crack addict to restaurant whore, I mean restaurateur, Helen Back. “Hellooo everybody. So nice to be here on Naked Chef Bone. Can’t wait to see all the booty. Heheh, I mean bounty Hugh, not booty, hehehehehe. I‘m just happy to be near you Hugh Jass, teehee”… And I‘m certainly happy to be near you Helen. I can see you have your big cleavage…Oops, hahaha, I mean your big cleaver tonight Helen. I better watch where I put my meat, hoho. How much did that monster set you back. Four dollars and ninety cents I think, I gave the guy a five dollar bill and he gave me back two nipples. Oops, heheheheh, I mean I don’t know how much Hugh.” ….No worries Helen, we speak blond here on Sick Bastard Network so we know just what you mean honey. And now our final judge, the man who puts the coarse in intercourse, Ben Dover. “Oh piss off Hugh, when your tip reaches your butt you can just fuck yourself.” … haha, eat shit and live Ben. I see Ben is in rare form tonight so contestants, bring out the dishes. What have you got there Jack Mioff?
“Well I got off to a rough start letting it hang too close to the bowl there, but I made autoerotic oysters. Oysters hogtied around this slice of battered zucchini covered with smothered onions.“ Mmmm, looks good Jack Mioff and clever theme, lets see what the judges think, Hal? “No very spicy but still she’s a hot, not bad there Jack Mioff, not bad at all.”…All right. Confidence from Hal, not bad at all, Helen? “It feels good going down my throat but its much too big. I like to start off with small mouthfuls.” Okay Helen, well said, how bout my angry friend Ben, what say you? “Piss off Hugh, this looks and tastes like shit.”…Oh no, not much praise from Ben Dover. Next we have the well endowed Destiny. What do you bring to the table Destiny? “I made a dill cake with greased zucchini and raw oyster because they make me horny.”…. Hahaha, I think I’m horny too Destiny, but what about our judges, Hal? “Spicy and hot. I want her.”… Ho ho, I hope you mean it was hot and not her. Helen? “I just can’t get that image of her greasing the zucchini out of my head, so slow, up and down, and up and down. I vote for her to do it again. How on earth did you get the bread so tasty Destiny?” “Oh, hehehe, I used fresh dill because fresh dill makes a tasty dill dough.” …. Okay lets not go there, too deep for me, haha, lets move on. Ben? “piss off Hugh, I just want to screw her. I’d like her to Ben Dover, haha.” ….Good enough Ben, good enough, believe it or not that’s big props from Ben Dover. Finally what did you make Stan Dinhghard? “I made a zucchini pancake with oysters absolut. Vodka glazed oysters with some bacon and Vidalia onion chutney on top.” …Mmmmm sounds delish to me, whadaya think there Hal? “Actually this shit looks good and tastes amazing. Maybe just needs a little hot sauce.” …Another nice compliment from Hal, lets hear what Helen has to say… “My God Stan is hung like a horse. What I’d really like is for Destiny to grease his zucchini, hehe. But I really like the way this whole thing feels in my mouth.” …My that’s a ringing endorsement from the slutty, oops sorry, I mean sultry Helen Back. Now our final judge, Ben?…. Get your head out of your huge ass Hugh, you know this food rocked it. But does he have to keep swinging that humongous sausage around?” ….Well Helen seems to lick it, I mean like it. Contestants, one of you will be eliminated this round lets see who has to get dressed.
Well the judges have spoken. Jack Mioff, your zucchini bread was pretty flat but your sticking it in the mixer was entertaining, Destiny, greasing that zucchini was so intense all three judges voted for you to have immunity this round, and Stan, I gotta say, you better not get too hard or there’s gonna be an accident for sure. So the first one to put their clothes back on… Jack Mioff. Sorry jack, get dressed an go back home. “Fuck you guys, this game sucks. I want to slap you Hugh.” …Whoa!! Ha ha, I’m ready for it, go ahead Jack Mioff. There goes one sore loser, but then if I had my beef jammed in the mixer I’d be black and blue too. Lets go to the final round. Contestants your ingredients for tonight’s entrée is banana, figs, and pork tenderloin. Destiny, Stan…..get to it, you have thirty two minutes.

Stan is off to a fast start, he has his tenderloin up on the counter and it looks like he’s… massaging it? Oh wait, I see what he’s doing, look at Destiny fixated on Stan’s tender loin. Lets listen in on our judges… “Conyo man, dat some huge tender dere Helen, si?” “Oh yea I see that thing Hal, Destiny seems to be staring too she better snap out of it and…oh wait, oh my God, I never knew anyone could peel a banana like that!” “Holy cheet Helen, Stan just stopped pounding his meat.” ..“Will you two idiots quit babbling, of course he stopped for chrissake, look at the way that broad is eating the banana!” Wow!! Damn she’s not eating it, she’s sucking that thing and I want to take notes. Hugh if I could do a banana like that I’d have all of you guys licking my fingers and eating it.” ….Hoho, I think Helen meant eating out of her hand but either way everyone has stopped everything and…..Wait, what’s this?? Oh oh, this could be bad news for Stan, he may get disqualified. He has piled up all the ingredients in a tower. That’s quite an erection he’ got there, no pun intended, hope he can recover. Destiny is back by the stove and is she ever giving our viewers a view. Ten minutes to go contestants, Stan, better calm that thing down before it gets disqualified. We want you to stick it out, but not that far out, haha, and Destiny I sure hope you have something to lay on your plate. We’ll be back after these messages from our sponsors, Trojan Condoms, with their new stealth rubber, she’ll never see you coming, and our favorite fast food chain, Mc Do-me’s, they give you the meat but hold the pickle.

Welcome back folks, the final bell has rung and its time to find out who gets dressed and who gets their own reality show. Judges, lets see what Destiny and Stan have for you. Destiny, what is your entrée? “I have roast tenderloin with rolled up balls of figs. As a side I placed the tip of the banana into a sliced fig.” Oh my, that’s an interesting presentation, it looks almost phallic, Hal? …“Phallic schmallic Hugh, I jus wanna see her eat another banana.” …Sorry Hal, that trigger has already been tripped, Helen? ..”Destiny, meet me after the show!” ….Helen I’m not sure, “Piss off Hugh, let them meet Helen said I can watch! Just give her the prize and get rid of the dude.” ..Um, oh, I..I.. It doesn’t work like that Ben, we need to judge. Lets go quick, And I mean quick to see what Stan cooked up for us, Stan? …”Not that I think its even gonna matter, but I made scaloppini of pork tenderloin grilled in banana skin, with a cognac fig reduction and a purée of savory banana over cinnamon infused Jasmine rice.” …That sounds mighty tempting Stan, what do you thin Hal?…”Taste good, but not as good as dee chick.” Yikes, Helen? Helen? Stan, you can’t do that, get away from Helen…”Shut up Hugh, don’t stop Stan, if you keep going until I come you get my vo….oh shit, that was pre mature!!” Helen, please, this is…”Piss off Hugh. We all voted and the dude is out. Clean yourself off and get dressed Dinghard! Bring those melons over here sweetheart, you’re the winner.” …. Ben you can’t say that kind of….oh, damn…We’ll be right back…CUT!!! Go to commercial now!!”
Shsshshshshshsshshshshshshshshshshshhsshhsh……….
Hello folks, welcome back I’m Hugh Jass here at The Naked Chef on The Sick Bastard TV Network, along with our celebrity judges, Hal Apeno, Helen Back, and Ben Dover. Well we had an unconventional show tonight to say the least but with this cast its about what we’d expect around here. We have to say good bye to a fierce competitor, but quite frankly Destiny made it hard for him from the start. In fact she made it hard for just about all of us. Stan plunged in and gave it his all but in the end he got beat by his competitor. Destiny made it so long and hard for him he just had to down, and not just on Helen, haha. His cream wasn’t rising to the top no matter how hard he was…I mean tried. Stan, put your clothes on and hit the road dude, Destiny will remain naked. “Can I just say I had a great time here. I won’t be able to beat it for a while but I am glad I came. Helen, thank you for your number I’ll give you a call. Destiny, if I had to go down I’m glad it was on you, I will never forget seeing your milk pillows bounce as you rolled out your dough. I think my only mistake was with the thickness of my pork, I didn’t pound my meat enough, but Destiny’s knockers knocked it out of the park anyway.” …Indeed they did Stan, glad to see your not a sore loser. Personally I can’t wait to watch Destiny beat her next opponents on Naked Chef Champions. In the meantime I’m gonna Ben Dover my Hugh Jass to Helen Back until Hal Apeno gets it Stan Dinghard so Destiny Dancer can Jack Mioff. Thanks for joining us, I’m a Hugh Jass and we’ll see you next time on, The Naked Chef.

Watch This Now

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If corporate America had its way this is how we would watch TV, like my good droogie Alex here, eyes forced open and head pointed squarely at the TV set. Drops of some drug in our eyes so we will absorb every message they want to impart in our brains. At least during the commercials because right now for a limited time we are in the viewer empowerment age of Television. We are not obligated to warch their commercials anymore thanks to DVR’s. The Golden age of TV was cool, a lot of fun and experimentation, variety shows, soaps, comedies, and the only price we had to pay was being subjected to advertising, subliminal or otherwise. A half hour show was about 19 minutes programming and 11 minutes of advertisement. They even snuck their slogans or catchphrases into our cultural vernacular. Taste great, less filling, a little dab will do ya, choo choo Charlie was an engineer, always after me Lucky Charms, sorry Charlie, Trix Are for kids, I can’t believe I ate the whole thing. They appealed to our grandparent love, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up, where’s the beef, and they even had us singing tongue twisting jingles, two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles on an sesame seed bun. But now most of us record the shows and fast forward through the commercials. I haven’t seen a full series of TV commercials in over a year! I am empowered now, I watch the shows I like without that commercial interruption so its up to the stations to take full advantage of this by entertaining me with quality television programs. They have the opportunity to showcase some real creative shows and we aren’t forced to have our intelligence insulted by little men sailing boats in toilet bowls, women ecstatically happy during their menstrual cycle, or the reforming of the old high school rock band to sing about erectile dysfunction. What’s the best they offer? Shows about ridiculous people just being themselves, a number of updated versions of Ted Macks Amateur Hour, or dancing with the has beens.
I was raised to believe that hard work and determination would reward me with success but that’s bullshit. Those days are long gone, the rules have changed. The workplace isn’t the arena for making big bucks nowadays unless you can wrestle up a sexual harassment suit from HR. Legal manipulation is the easiest and most prolific path to the top today. Unless of course your idea of success is not just money, but fame. For many people its all about being on TV. Get yourself on one of the hundreds of talent competition shows. Do you have what it takes to make it in music? Don’t bust your ass playing at low income gigs and performing all week long dedicating yourself to your art,. get your ass on an idol X Factor Voice show. You can practice for your big moment at karaoke night at your fave pub. Hell, you don’t even have to be a good singer if you can whistle happy birthday through your nose or anything else ridiculous. Hell yea, that’s good enough to get you a talent challenge on any network. Fuck the winning prize money for coming in first all you really need is to get noticed. Be an asshole or a bitch and own that fact and maybe they’ll come looking to sign you up for or a show of your own. All you need do today is be a pompous ass and sell your shitty self absorbed personality. We’ll pay for it because Barnum was wrong there isn’t a sucker born every minute suckers multiply by the second and they watch reality TV. Just check out the prime time TV listings and choose where you fit in. A backwoods idiot, white trash toddler, a catty rich housewife or mob or rap star wife, bad girl, crazy masochist boy, Jersey Shore loser, the list goes on. Apparently our lives are so boring we’ve become desperate to peek in on the lives of losers who live in constant drama or are such assholes they give us self confidence because we aren‘t THAT bad.
I don’t know, maybe we just want to know that there are bigger assholes in this world than us. I must admit when I’m driving I’m often guilty of this. If the person in front of me pulls a dumb ass move I feel compelled extend my middle finger then stare inside their car as I pass. I need to see exactly what an asshole driver looks like so I can avoid looking like one myself. Or perhaps I need to be able to recognize the facial features of an idiot so I can avoid them off the road as well. Whatever it is the American television viewing public seems transfixed on other peoples lives whether its watching them get drunk and act stupid, have a meltdown in public, trash talk their friends and family, or just be out of place millionaires. We need to know how other people act in real life. Why?
As for me I have more than enough stress and drama in my own life to want to see someone else going through their real life problems, give me fantasy. I‘m much more comfortable watching serial killers, lawyers and cops, crime scene investigators, and horny doctors and interns. When I relax and vegetate on the couch I want escape from my world, not look at other people living theirs, but fantasy, a life as far removed from my own as possible. That’s why I never watch the Food Channel. I’m around food constantly in my job, why on earth would I want to see more of it in my free time? Unfortunately creative stories with actual professional actors is more costly and a lot more work so the networks are more than happy to fill prime time with bullshit competitions and real life drama they insist are unscripted.
Sit com? Here’s an idea for a new sitcom no one has, an idiot male for a husband, a suburban wife who wonders why she puts up with him, a smart mouthed kid, a gay family member (uncle or whatever), a minority marrying into the family thrown in for some mispronunciation of English laughs, and one brainiac precocious little kid. Um, actually it looks eerily similar to every sit com around today. never mind!
When I was a kid the TV was called an idiot box, or boob tube because watching for hours drained us of our capacity for critical thinking or cognitive thought. Now the kids that were transfixed by the pixilated screen are the ones creating B&I television. Not business and industry, boring and irrelevant. The idiot part is obvious (even to an idiot) but the boob part of boob tube today has become how much boob they can show and get away with under the guise of wardrobe malfunction. Young boys tune in hoping for a nip slip, teen girls hoping for some tight spandex. I love edgy stuff and I enjoy pushing every envelope passed my way but it pains me to see gratuitousness in television. I’m not a supporter of censorship but its sad to me that the artistic integrity of stretching our boundaries and placing us outside our comfort zone is slipping away. Especially because its only a matter of time before the sponsors figure out a way to get their sell, sell, sell, message into our brains. Perhaps they will team up with the NSA…….PEACE

It’s All right Ma, I’m Only Bleeding

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Like most every time one story out of millions captures the attention of the media and the masses. There was Casey Anthony, Scott Peterson, and who could forget the OJ trial? Now we’re at it again with the Trayvon Martin George Zimmerman case. There are so many elements we could focus on in this trial. The right to defend oneself, the right to walk freely in a neighborhood, the racial profile, or the fact that it seems acceptable for an untrained person on “Neighborhood Watch” to be carrying a loaded weapon. All of these things have been selected ,inspected, and dissected until they were infected and rejected and basically been talked about over and over so much that even the hardcore trial addicts are getting weary. That’s how we do it though, we pick out one story out of millions, the one that will spark the most polarizing effect and set people against each other and beat the shit out of the story.
There’s millions of other atrocities to choose from, pick a city and chances are good an innocent person has been killed within the last few days, but if it doesn’t capture the imagination of the argument hungry public it gets no airtime. The courts are full of rapists, murderers, and liars getting away with crimes but unless there are elements that can get us fighting no one gives a shit. Give us a story with teeth. WTF, that’s our nature I guess, the ancient Romans gathered in hordes to watch other people meet a violent end and we are doing the same thing only calling it civilized. We don’t actually watch the battle but our mouths froth for the aftermath so we can disagree with each other and add some real life drama to our lives, as if we don’t already have our fair share.
So all in all its really not a big surprise that we would focus on this case but this one has taken a disturbing and disconcerting turn. The case isn’t coming down to facts, not at all about right or wrong, or racism, or unnecessary use of a firearm, its come down to who’s Mom does the jury believe. A grieving Mom or a Mom fighting for her sons freedom. We‘ve heard from both. Mrs. Martin. Who doesn’t believe that she is sure in her heart that she heard the familiar cry of her son screaming for help? Mrs. Zimmerman, who doesn’t believe that she believes in her heart that she heard the scream of her son? If it was me I would be sure it was my son, because my love for him is so strong I would believe it no matter what. So is one mother lying? Putting the two mothers on the stand is an all time low as far as I’m concerned. Personally I believe them both. I believe them to be caring and loving mothers who would go to the mat, take a bullet, die for there children. Most of us would. But they are not on trial.
Why does it even matter who was creaming for help? What about the facts? A young boy was guilty of buying candy and being in a strange neighborhood. A young man is guilty of following this youth, with a firearm in a holster, and confronting him for whatever reason. This is the debate. Is Zimmerman a protector or a vigilante? Maybe they should leave the Moms out and stick to the facts. But then again, if they do that they may lose ratings, who wants to see reality on TV anyway?