Tag: satire

Moses And The Ten Suggestions ( 10 habits of highly pious people)

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fluke

A SICK BASTARDS BIBLE SELECTION
J.T. Hilltop

Moses tied his long hair in a ponytail as he walked some of his father in laws sheep up the mountain to his “spot” where he often went to chiillax with some weed. On this particular day he had stopped off at his best friends hut for a joint. “Oy Sammy, its me Moses, you got a spare joint dude?” Samuel opened the door, “Aye Mo, wassup my main shepherd friend, come on in I got just the thing for you Bro.” Moses knew he could count on Samuel, he always seemed to have the best weed. Claims he gets it from some dude named “The Lion,” or the artist previously known as Snoop Canine. “Check this out Mo, its some killer chronic. I painted the Zig Zag paper with hash oil before rolling it up so its got some real ballz Buddy.” He handed Moses the doob, “Oh snap Sammy, this gonna be fine my man, just what I need today. Wife’s been on my case all day and I need to dee-stress pronto baby.” Moses headed out the door filled with an attitude of gratitude and a slamming joint in his robe pocket. “Catch ya on the morrow Bro, thanks so much.”
Moses wandered up a mountain path with his sheep until he came across his favorite get high rock where he stopped and lit the J. Toking, coughing, toking some more he could actually feel the stress leaving his head. About three quarters of the way down the blunt there was a big seed that Samuel must have missed when he cleaned the herb and it popped loudly. An ember jumped up from the doob and landed in a small bush by Moses feet. At first he didn’t think anything of it although after a while the bush began smoldering. Moses was way to high to do anything. “Hey Moses….Moses its me, The Man.” Moses looked around but not seeing anyone he anwered, “That you Sammy? Holy crap Sam you were right about the chronic man.” Moses took off his sandal and pounded it on his head, “Hear that man? That’s my skull…. I’m sooo wasted!!” Moses looked again, still no one around. “No Moses, its not Samuel, its me God. You know the father of everyone. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, everyone. I’m the lord God, the supreme one.” Moses stared at the smoldering bush, “Come on Sammy cut the shit man, you’re scaring me Bro. How the fuck do you do that voice?” The bush burst into flame and began to crackle, “Its not Samuel and stop cursing. I hear you cursing all the time and it has to stop. I also know what you think when you look at Sarah. She’s not your wife, you shouldn’t think about her that way!” Moses was still leery thinking he was just too high, “What? Sarah’s friggen hot Man, I can’t help it. Have you seen those jugs? And she has hot legs too. Damn man, anyone that wouldn’t want to get between those…..Hey wait, you’re who? Did you say you’re my father? That ain’t funny Sammy, you know my old man died last year.” The bush began shaking, “Not your father, everyones father you jerk, the Lord God, creator of the world. The supreme being. And I told you to stop cursing. Matter of fact that’s one of the things I came here to talk to you about.” Moses walked closer to the bush, “So you saying I’m talking to God and you have some other shi….. Ah, stuff to talk to me about? Man this chronic is stronger than anything I ever had.” Moses took one more toke then tossed the roach aside, “So if you really god, the what’d you call it, supreme being, where’s your sour cream?” Although it was merely a bush Moses could sense its frustration as the flames flickered. The voice got really loud, “I’m not a friggen burrito supreme you idiot, I am the supreme ruler of all men, the lord god almighty himself and I’m here to give you instructions on what I expect from you. I hope to Jehovah I picked the right one. There aren’t any other Mosses’ in town are there?” The bush was shaking again, “Nah G, ain’t no Moses but me. But I could do it man, just tell me what you need.”
God went on to explain to Moses all the tasks that lay ahead. “Go to the elders of Israel and tell them that I have appeared to you and told you I have watched over them and know what went down in Egypt. Tell them I have promised to relieve their people of the misery by the Nile into the land of Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, and the Pez eating Pezanites. You will lead them into the promised land, the land of milk and honey.” Moses was a bit uncertain and felt that a deal of just milk and honey wasn’t enough so he negotiated to receive Manishcewitz wine, Knishes, and a Halvah candy bar along with the milk and honey. That would cure his munchies. Both sides walked away satisfied yet apprehensive, but the deal was done. Moses was to free the Jews from Egypt and bring them back here to Mount Sinus.
It was quite an undertaking because quite frankly the elders thought Moses was tripping, due to his reputation as a “prolific pot puffer” from his days as a bachelor. Moses complained to God who gave him a few tricks to perform. Hadeus, one of the meanest of the elders mocked Moses. “Check this out boys, young Moses over here claims that God has spoken to him. Hey Mo, what’d God have for breakfast this morning? Hahaha, you know what a man with a fourteen inch erection has for breakfast?” Hadeus dropped his drawers revealing a eleven inch erection laughed loud and said, “Well this morning I had four pancakes, two eggs over, and toast.” All the elders erupted in laughter so Moses seized the opportunity. “First of all Hadeus, its plain to see you are embellishing a bit about your endowment, that looks like ten inches at most, and behold, its not an erection, it’s a tiny garter snake.” With the power God bestowed him Moses turned Hadeus’s anaconda erection into a flaccid garter snake. The room fell silent as all stared in horror at the now even more impressive appendage hanging, or rather squirming between Hadeus’ legs. Hadeus screamed and as he ran away he cut his new one eyes snake on the door hinge and it began bleeding. Hadeus jumped into the lake which immediately morphed into blood. The elders no longer doubted and placed all their faith in Moses. No one wanted to suffer the E-reptile dysfunction of Hadeus.
Convincing the elders was one thing, but swaying the Pharaoh’s mind into freeing his people would prove much more difficult. The Pharaoh had a bevy of snake charmers leaving the snake trick to assume the position of a parlor trick. Moses spoke to God, “God, I told him to let my people go but the Pharaoh just laughed in my face. He was totally unimpressed with the snake trick. I told him you would do some really bad shit to Egypt if he doesn’t free them so….um, whatta ya got?” God raised his voice, “What did I tell you about cursing? What do you mean you told him I would do something? What do you expect me to do?” Moses put on his puppy dog eyes, “Well G, I was kinda hoping we could do something with some frogs, insects, and like some ice balls and shi…..stuff.” Gods voice chilled a few octaves, “Okay, okay, I’ll think of something, but why frogs?” Moses smiled, “My Mom used to tell me a story about an evil witch that turned a prince into a frog, and I just thought that would be fitting since the pharaoh was once a prince.” Moses couldn’t see God but he felt the wind suggesting God was shaking his head, “You are incorrigible young Moses. Okay, give me a week and then go back and get our people the heck out of Egypt!”
The very next day Egypt was inundated with frogs crawling and hopping out of every corner giving the Egyptian people warts and boils. The next day it was lice and gnats, the following day flies.Two days later and ice storm followed by a rash of locusts. Moses chuckled at the thought of the Pharaoh covered in warts, insect bites, and lumps from hail balls pleading for it to stop. He confronted him to find him near insane. “I’ll say it one more time, let my people go. God said he will kill the firstborn of every Egyptian family until my people are free.” The Pharaoh handed Moses the key ring with shaking hands, “Here, go. All of you get the fuck out of here, I never want to see any of you again!” Moses took the keyring to unlock the prisoners but gave the Pharaoh one last demand, “And stop the cursing!”
Well M-Dog was real proud of himelf, he was leading all the jews out of Egypt and had scored some killer black hash and a few grams of some whack Lebanese red cocaine in Cairo, so off they went into the desert. The trip was wracked with misfortune because Moses was stoned much of the time and kept making wrong turns. He put a young dude named Joshua in charge who fared a little better, but it was difficult traveling with armies chasing them all the time. Joshua made a huge misjudgment and suddenly Mosses and his people found themselves trapped at a river. Once surrounded Moses was prepared to give up when he heard God talk to him, “Moses, I saw you buying drugs in Cairo and you know how I feel about that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Use those drugs to get across the sea.” Moses was perplexed, “How the fu…er how the fudge can I use drugs to save us?” But Gods voice didn’t answer so Moses set out a plan of his own. He asked for a private meeting with the soldiers in charge, “Well boys, you got us. Before you kill us its customary back in my hometown to smoke a few bowls with your captors.” He lit up the hash and passed the pipe getting the soldiers high as kites. He then went to his people and pulled out the Lebanese red cocaine, “Everybody take two quick hits up the nose then we swim like mother, er melon farmers across the river.” Joshua was a bit concerned, “What is that Moses?” Moses smiled, some red “C” I purchased at a caravan in Cairo. Quick, snort it up and lets get the heck out of here!”
After snorting the Lebanese Red “C” they all swam across the river like it was an Olympic event leaving the Egyptian soldiers too stoned to chase them. Now they would have safe passage to Mount Sinus. A bit late perhaps, but be there they will! His people laughed at the stunned soldiers who were wondering what just happened as the group safely headed towards the promised land of milk, honey, wine, knishes, and Halvah bars. Without GPS it took a while but they made it to the foot of Mount Sinus. It was time. Moses headed up the mountain telling his people he’s be back shortly with a message from God. “Listen up guys, this shouldn’t take too long, Ima bust up the mountain to see God, you guys just hang and wait. And please, stay out of trouble. Josh, your in charge dude.
Moses trekked up the familiar mountain looking for his get high rock. Still a huge smile on his face Moses checked every bush around but none were burning. Not even smoking! Suddenly a tall dude with long wavy silver hair and a smoking silver ZZ Top beard walked towards Moses, “Where the heck have you been Moses?” Moses looked up sheepishly, “Oh, um, we got lost God, sorry. Wasn’t my fault the friggen soldiers kept chasing us, I made a wrong turn, Joshua got confused and before we knew it we were running in circles. Anyway, I’m here, your people are at the bottom of the mountain waiting, and its time to lay it on us big guy.” God was holding two tablets in his hands, marked RORER 714. Moses eyes got bugged, “Man, I ain’t see Quaaludes like that in years God. Are they for me?” God passed the tablets to Moses warning him to jut take one at a time. ZZ Top chinhair strap then lit up an enormous rolled joint and the two got high. Moses took both tablets. The two smoked a bit too much and passed out for forty days. When they came to, God had his ten suggestion ready. “Bring this list of ten habits to our people an tell them they need to follow this like law if they want to enter heaven.” Moses looked over the list, “Whoa, God, you gotta go over this shi…..stuff for me first, let take them one at a time. I‘ll paraphrase and write them down so we get it right”
Suggestion 1.….Remember that God is the lord, who freed you from Egypt, and invented weed
Suggestion 2.….Don’t worship before any other gods, wait until after
Suggestion 3.….Don’t put anything in your veins then say “God damn that feels good”
Suggestion 4.….Remember that on Sunday you should play Black Sabbath (or any solo Ozzie efforts)
Suggestion 5.….Be with your Father and especially your mother. Be on her and off her all night
Suggestion 6.….Don’t kill anyone with kindness.
Suggestion 7.….Do not commit to being an adult
Suggestion 8.….Do not steal. Shoplifting is okay, but stealing is a no no.
Suggestion 9.….Do not witness bears doing it with your neighbors.
Suggestion 10.…Do not cover your neighbors wife. (you’ll wanna see everything)

Moses wrote all the stuff down and headed back down the mountain to share his newfound knowledge. As he got close he dropped the paper he has written out. Standing in shock Mosses became infuriated. All of the people he had saved were drunk and having sex with a blowup doll. The doll was oddly attractive with large breasts, full thighs, and amazingly realistic calf’s painted gold. The golden calves! He ran around like a madman because he was a mad man. “You fools, worshiping a sex toy? Are you fucking kidding me?” Gods voice rang out, “Moses! What have I told you about cursing?” Moses acted as though he hadn’t heard as he ran up and pulled the plug on the sex doll, screaming at the revelers. As the air went out it made a loud sucking noise, and the one who had his rod inserted into the dolls staff let out an “Oh My God” as he reached a feverish orgasm. Mosses turned disappointed, “Of all, people Fellatio, I never expected this from you.” Moses was so crimson red and angry no one noticed that he grabbed at his chest. Moses suffered a heart attack leaving Joshua in charge of the rest of the journey. God had to rewrite the Ten Suggestions this time with corrections. The reworked list still stands today, as does fellatio’s rod.
The End

Transcendental Medication V..(Out of the black, and into the blue)

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altered

Previously on Transcendental Medication :
The smile on my face was so enormous my jawbone ached and my eyes were nearly closed. Ambrosina began gently shaking my shoulder apparently ready to go one more time but I was spent. I looked up saying, ”Sorry babe I just could….oh, Dr. Kha, its you! ” God damn its confusing slipping in an out of realities here! Dr, Kha stood over me with a smirk, “I see you make visit to paradise JT

Tomorrow put you in sensory depravation tank with special punctures dipped in mixture of essences from Belladonna, Angel Trumpet, and Nutmeg Paste. Essence free mind and allow to see without eyes. Transcendental medication. Ownry then JT will you see truth, opposite universe, and maybe even understand nothing. Get some rest my boy, tomorrow is day you meet God face to face.”

Out Of The Black And Into The Blue

Meet God face to face! Well this is gonna be pretty interesting considering I can’t remember having ever believed in God. Oh 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 an 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 with God. Only they weren’t dialogues, they were monologues, night after night. I only asked for small signs, not giant challenges, no plagues or forty day storms. Something simple like make my covers fall off or leave a scratch on 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. 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 if it was on the pews on Sundays that made everything okay. 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. Khandra.
I was nervously excited as I entered the THC clinic. 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 saying, “Later JT. I’ll see you later.” Before I could even answer 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 Kha placed the dripping needles about my body. This time 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. Instantly relaxed the anxiety faded away leaving only a smile. I felt 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.
It took a while to get used to the absence of sound or sight. Total darkness with no sound at all, feeling a bit claustrophobic I was anxious, confined, and alone. I thought perhaps this is a big waste of time. I was angry I was allowing this to happen to me, if there was a way I could get out. I called to Kha a number of times but he didn’t respond. I was alone, first angry now depressed. 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 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 claustrophobia and panic subsided, sliding into 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, ready to see alternate reality.” It was 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 or 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 color were o deep an rich, so real. I was inside a crayola colored landscape beside a stream. Dr, Kha was there along with two other 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 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 exploed. 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 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.” 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 exited 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 knew I had the power to ravage her and it felt invigorating. My semi erection began growing.
TBC

Where Has All The Flour Gone? (Dealing with post baking blues)

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where

Where has all the flour gone ,long time passing?
Where has all the flour gone, long time sifting?
Where have all my bakers gone
Scooped the bins everyone
Oh when will they ever learn
Oven makes the flour burn
(Pedro, Paula, and Marty, by bakers)

Finished the annual turkey an fixins, polished off all the Beaujolais Nouveau, had some leftovers, an checked the highlights from the traditional Thanksgiving sport, Mixed Martial Arts Shopping. Since Tueay morning we have been baking our asses off. Pumpkin breads, a variety of pies and cakes, a few thousand cupcakes and the list went on. A marathon of mixing, rolling, scaling, and baking for near about 38 of the 48 hours and now I’m exhausted. And I have post bakematic stress syndrome because all the flour bins and sugar bins have been depleted along with my spirit. The week before thanksgiving had me amped up with so much extra baking that I was on an adrenaline high. But now…..where has all the flour gone?

There’s a huge void in the cupcakery. True I can take a breath before getting re-stoked for the holiday rush still tom come but this day, this black Friday I a blue Friday for me. Bummed that the bakery looks like a war worn battlefield to organize fore the bake off for the holiday. The Hell with holiday, I’m gonna call it what it is for me, PC be damned. Getting ready for the Festivus rush! I should be happy because the airing of grievances, the feats of strength, and all the other peoples holiday rituals will be asking for more cupcakes an baked goods. But something’s wrong! No pumping, no jamming, no looking forward, the Thanksgiving rush has left not only me empty but the containers previously filled with that white powdery gluten riddled product. Where has all the flour gone?

I know, I know, careful what you wish for, when its slow I wish it was buy and when busy slow, and when its cold out I wish it was hot but when its hot and humid I wish it was….Not cold, Hell no! Maybe I wish it was cooler but nothing to do and cold weather sucks way more then too busy or too hot! So I’m miserable now. Not only a flourless kitchen but on top of all that it’s friggen cold as Hell. South Hell Pole to be accurate, which is so cold it makes a guy gonads hibernate in his intestines promising to return only once the heat gets turned on. South Hell Pole is that part of hell often refered to as “A special place in. There’s a special place in hell for him and that’s South Hell Pole. Oh yea it burns like a mother humper in regular hell, near unbearable heat every second of every day, but in South Hell Pole you shiver constantly until your goosebumps have goosebumps and every breath you inhale gives you brain freeze. That’s a special place! On the brighter side, there is flour there.
Therefore I will end all my bitching about how miserable I am and focus on how happy I’ll bee in the next few weeks when I’m sweating off my old ass while breaking in a new one in the kitchen that’s as hot as regular Hell. No more feeling sorry for myself, get up an fill those bins, get those pans ready, and get back to what I do best, baking. I am looking around my beat up kitchen with promise and hope as I head to the storeroom to grab a bag of …..wait…what? No more bags?
Oh woe is me, where has all the flour gone……PEACE

Seasons Greed-ing’s

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turk

No Virginia, There is no more miracle on 34th street

Thanksgiving is this Thursday and there are some who are seriously in need of your help this year. The disenfranchised franchises of retail stores. Due to “calendar irregularities” the shopping season is six days shorter than usual which may force several CEO’s of major retail stores to cut back on their caviar this year, or worse, be forced to get their children practical gifts this holiday season. But that’s not what worries them most, they’re real concern is about us, the hard working shopping public. That’s why these stores, Macy’s, Wal-Mart, JC Penny (they are personally responsible for keeping the JC in Jesus Christ-mas),K-Mart, Target, Old Navy, Kohls, and Macy’s will have someone ready to wait on you in their stores Thursday. I know I mentioned Macy’s twice but their underpaid accountants project that the stores profits may sink below 40% this year meaning its gains may be less than 6 ½ billion by years end. So taking into account that combined with their concern about you and your family get to-gethers I felt they deserve extra mention. Anyway, I’m asking you to show your support for these struggling companies who are so desperate they are willing to force their low level underpaid staff to get off their lazy asses and get into work on a family holiday. Go shop, to Hell with family. Thank you CEO’s, your generosity borders on patriotic.

So please don’t make plans to stay at home with your family this Thanksgiving, help the CEO’ sit proud in their boardrooms. Open your hearts and your wallets and pull out your credit cards and spend the day (as well as all the money you have, plus some you don’t have yet) the way the Pilgrims would have if they hadn’t been so busy sharing food with Americans. Maybe they did, maybe history is wrong and it wasn’t a feast but a flea market where the Native Americans traded the foods they farmed and the game they slaughtered for whatever the Pilgrims put up for sale. Designer feather headdresses at Gimme-Mart, Cooking pots from The Cellar at Mayflower Stores, trinkets from WM Penn-iless, or the latest in colonial technology from Pilgrims Plug In. So maybe these generous companies aren’t just trying to make huge profits on the backs of their minimum wage employees, maybe they are merely celebrating in the true spirit of Thanksgiving by opening their stores the way the Pilgrims did for the natives. So be patriotic, forgo family fun, get out to the stores and spend spend spend. Not spend time with family, spend your money so the CEO’s can comfortably spend the day with their families, with caviar, extravagant gifts and all. You can get the whole family together for a day of love and sharing any time, but the sales only last for a limited time. While supply last. I don’t know about you but I sure don’t want to be the one to deprive big business of an opportunity to make a few million in profit, that’s downright inhumane. To hell with family, get out there and do the right thing, shop till you drop.

This year we all have a chance to make a difference and get a good jump on our holiday shopping instead of connecting with the ones we love. Be thankful? For what, we deserve what we get! Sure there are thousands of our fellow American who are homeless and starving but people will always go hungry in our country, that’s just how we roll. Besides, I have no clue what their circumstances are but they no doubt brought it on themselves by being lazy waiting for handouts. Screw them, they can have all the empty cardboard boxes after Christmas. Or you can be one of those liberal so good protesters who vow they won’t shop this Thanksgiving day because they’re outraged at the way the company shows distain to the lower classes. Truth is the companies don’t give a shit about the protests, they know your as addicted to spending money as they are addicted to stockpiling it. Their focus groups show we’ll just spend the money in their store on another day and within three years time we will all be so used to stores opening on Thanksgiving the magic behind the holiday will fall prey to commercialism just like Christmas has. By this time three years from now the day will become juts another holiday we can stretch into a 5 ay weekend to get drunk, watch football, and go shopping, because we all know there aren’t enough Sundays to do that in regular football season…

As for me, I‘m going to spend the day as I usually do, inviting family and friends over for a fanfuukkentastic meal, awesome wine and beer, and great conversations. At 12 noon I will stop everything for a half hour while I listen to Alice’s Restaurant Massacre, a hippie tradition I have held up since 1971, and reflect on all the wonderful people that have had passed through my life. If you shopping is part of your tradition go for it, its your option, but consider first to take one moment in time, one day of the year in which no one gives a shit about politics, religion, or any other distractions that seem to rule our lives and put all the garbage aside to appreciate how much we love, and how much we are loved. Love, Peace, and Hope. You can’t find that on sale anywhere but if you really want it anyone can afford it ….PEACE

Reeling In The Years

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That’s right, reeling. Reeling And a rocking, rolling till the break of dawn. That’s me! Actually its more like creaking and a cracking, falling till the break of bones. WTF? What’s happening to my body, when did all this shit all sneak up on me? Many words and phrases seemed innocuous but these days when I hear dig it I have grave concern. Buried in my work, quite an undertaking, dying to go there, drop dead gorgeous, all common phrases which now give me pause. But don’t pause too long, pour yourself a stiff one! Here’s what started this gloomy thought process. A snot nosed brat said scuse me gramps the other day and I was pissed. I was like who the Hell does that little jerk think he’s calling Gramps? But then I remembered…. I am a Gramps. I’m a fucking granpa! I have grandkids??!! How? When? Not possible! I still like to rock an roll, I’m just as fit as I used to be. Okay maybe not as fit, but my clothes still fit. Okay, maybe I have grown a few sizes and had to buy bigger belts and shit, but I can still rock and roll all night and party every day. So long as all night ends by midnight and partying every day begins sometime after five. Holy shit man, WTF has happened?
Its called the declining years for a reason. Everything declines downhill. It sneaks up on you, hitting your legs first. One day I’m running to catch the bus and an going slower than I should. When I just barely make it I think, Goddamn I’m out of breath. And my thighs and knees hurt. It was a struggle to chase the damn bus. Shake it off, its nothing, must be the weather. Its raining after all, and the rain does weird things to peoples bones. Yea, that’s it, the rain. With a sense of relief I wipe my face dry when something else occurs to me. There isn’t nearly as much hair to dry! WTF? When did my hair get so thin? And how did my forehead grow so big? It goes up so high I can’t see where t my temples are. Its like one big mass of lumpy hairless scalp halfway up my head!. OY, the decline is starting.
Then one day my indigestion seems harsher than normal. Wait, What?? Normal? WTF? When did indigestion become a normal occurrence for me? And now I have a baseline to follow? What happened? Here’s what happened, my digestive system has been working overtime for years, battling all the beer, wine and booze, chips, fried food, Mexican foods, Thai foods, donuts, cupcakes (shameless plug), an every other substance I carelessly forced down my intestinal tracts. Years of hard work!! And now its pissed off. My intestines are mad as Hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore. Time for some gastro-intestinal karma, exacting some revenge via my stomach. Best served cold means swallowing Zantac with cold water, and chewing Rolaids like candy on a daily basis. Too late for apologizing to the stomach, the damage is done. Apparently drinking lots of milk to line the stomach before an evening of heavy drinking was bullshit, and my stomach is liver. I mean livid!
Hair falling out, running ability compromised, and now daily stomach issues. How much worse can it get? Okay, time to go to CVS and find something that will slow down this aging process. Here we go, aisle 6. I grab a box of Lifetime Youth Glow something or other. Lets see what’s in here. WTF? Why did they make the lettering so small and blurry? Maybe if I put it a bit closer. Nope. Maybe under the light? Nope! I pick up the box next to it and can’t read that either. WTF has happened to my eyes? The writings not smaller my eyes have gotten cloudy. I look across to aisle 10 where they have a rack of cheater reading glasses. That’s it, that’s all I need, a pair of magnifying glasses so I can read the small writing. I’ll start with something low, like 1.25, that’s the lowest. They don’t look horrible and if I only need them for reading then these should be all right. Where’s the chart? WTF? The chart is blurry too? 1.50. Better, but maybe 1.75, perfect. Jeez Louize, 1.75? Whatever. Two weeks later I’m back looking at the 200+ with a case because I need to bring the fucking things with me everywhere I go. WTF?
I said to Maureen, “could this get any worse?” She didn’t answer. A bit louder, “Can this get any worse?” Come on now, I need someone to make me feel not old, so one more time this time real loud, “CAN IT GET ANY WORSE?” My answer? “For the third time! What the fuck are you talking about?” OMFG! My hearing now? Did I really not hear her the first two times? Maybe she was speaking away from me? Yea, that’s it, it’s the acoustics! I didn’t hear because she didn’t project AT me. But I bought some extra Q Tips just in case. Now if I can only remember where they are.
Yea right! Remember! That’s on the way out too. Hell I can remember an incident back 5 years ago pretty well but don’t ask me what I had for dinner last night, cuz I don’t remember. Dude Where’s My Car has become my reality. Let me review, instead of rolling joints my joints ache, and creak, and snap crackle pop. My skin isn’t tight enough to fit my body and it leaves wrinkles no iron can flatten out. The only thing that gets wasted anymore is my waistline and even with a belt nothing fits right anymore. I need to plan any road trips around bathrooms because while my bladder hasn’t physically shrunk it seems to get much more impatient and desperate than it used too. I can’t see or hear good but that doesn’t matter because I wouldn’t remember what I saw or heard anyway. I don’t go out but my back does and by the time the last candle on my birthday cake is lit the first one is a blob of melted wax. Shit man if I do eat the cake I get indigestion, which has a baseline. Speaking of bass lines, music that used to be classic rock is now golden oldies and golden oldies are now Fossil Rock. Does aging gracefully mean I don‘t pee when I sneeze so I don‘t really need a diaper? Depends!
Whatever, the big-bottom line is I am getting really concerned about all this because there’s only two things I can think of left to lose, sex and sanity. If worse comes to worst a little pill from the Doc will solidify one problem, that won’t be hard, er, well, yes it will be hard but it won’t be…. you know what I mean! At this point I need to worry more about dementia, about becoming senile. I can fix the penile but senile is another story. I know what senile is, I worked in a Nursing Home for many years and I witnessed a lot of senile patients. Wandering around not knowing where they’re going or why, stopping and talking about random things then forgetting what they were saying, concerned only about what’s for dinner. I can only assume senility is the next step. That sux! …..Or does it? Now that I think about it, those patients were happy walking around doing the Thorazine Shuffle like they were so stoned they didn’t know where they were. Is that senility? Totally stoned all the time, worrying about nothing but what’s to eat, and not being accountable for my actions? Kinda like the old days when we smoked weed by the ounce then went to 7-11. Not feeling quite so bad now, pills to keep me digesting, pills to keep me going, pills to keep me up, maybe some pills to make me feel stoned all day and not responsible for any thing I do or say? WTF, bring it on senility, give me a few extra bong hits of the shit!! PEACE

.

Sinner Ella, beneath the silver slipper

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A Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tale
J.T. Hilltop

What’s the deal with the story of a young chick who is tossed into servitude to her jealous step sisters and overbearing step Mom who magically transforms a pumpkin into a coach and herself into a diva to seduce a rich prince, then fleeing when time catches up with her. Not only that, she happens to leave behind a slipper luring the prince into a kingdom wide search for the fantasy woman’s foot who will fill that slipper. Lost slipper? Please! More like some Jimmy Choo”s Come hump me pumps she wore to entice Princey boy. Prince have a shoe fetish maybe? What kind of trickery is used to make mice look like horses? Who is this Fairy Godmother and why did the repo-man show up at midnight? Only the sick bastard can answer these poignant questions so here is JT Hilltops version of events from his “Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tales.” I’m here to unravel the salacious subplot and reveal the half truths of this sacred story. Salacious indeed, the true tale, or should I say tail, has what it takes to rise up beyond your horny expectations. I hope to make it stand up in court and render an explosive climactic verdict. Open wide!

There’s many versions of this sordid tale but the most well known and accepted by far is the version told by our old pal and inspiration behind theme parkery Walter Disney. So that can only mean its true ergo that’s where the sick bastard will begin to take the treasured tale and twist it into a warped shell of itself. This isn’t the fairy tale your mama read you at bedtime, this is the story of the not so innocent Sinner Ella, the shapely and strikingly beautiful high heeled seductress with a secret helper and a gift of satisfying the most voracious sexual appetite that give her a much needed advantage …With a Wham Bam Whatta Slam Bibbitty Bobbity Bada Bing Bada Boo!

Once upon a bunch of thyme the 21 year old gorgeous Ella Fuchs was a good cook and sandwich maker who understood the value of a well placed sexual favor. In and out of church she was known as Sinner Ella and her list of sexual accomplishments earned her the coveted “Peoples Choice of Jumbo Golden Globes Award.” Her home movies, be they consensually filmed or secretly filmed received an XXX rating. She used her sensual piercing cobalt eyes and thick alluring lips to render her an advantage with just about everyone. Just about. Her sexual antics seldom worked at the home in which she lived with her frigid old step-mother, Lady Tremaine and her two step sisters Drizzle and Anna Sthesia who could best be described as…..well, homely. They were jealous of Sinner Ella because as a child the pretty Ella had won Bare Naked Toddlers and Tiara’s one year and was headed for fame and fortune in the erotic film industry. That is until her Mom, Clover Honeybear Boobaleeboo passed away leaving her alone with her father. The old boy didn’t trust himself around his sensuous daughter so he married Lady T. to help raise her and prevent him from a life of incestuous scandal. One night he went out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned. Poor Ella was forced to live a subservient lifestyle to the step sisters and step Mom. Sinner Ella prayed that one day someone rich would come by so she could use her oral wiles on him to get him to take her away. It was a sad situation but Sinner was sure that she could lick the problem.

Lady Tremaine was concerned about the competition Ella would give her own daughters so she destroyed all of Ella’s sexy gowns and threw away all her shoes. All except the one pair that Ella had hidden away, her no fail Jimmy Choo come and get me pumps with the spike heel and ankle straps. Sinner had seduced many a man and a half dozen women using her hump inducing pumps and she knew some day they would once again tickle the libido of someone who could free her from her circumstance. Some day!

“Ella you slut make us something to eat and don’t forget to feed Lucifer.” Drizzle seemed to enjoy ordering her slave girl around but Anne Sthesia was a tad more nice, knowing that Ella had a skillful tongue. Anna called from the bathroom, “Sinner, I need a towel to dry off.” Ella knew what that meant, it was more like a moistening up than a drying off. She put some chicken in the oven, fed the cat Lucifer, then headed up to the bathroom with a load of clean and folded towels. “Put the towels down and come lick me.” Anna was sitting on the edge of the tub so Ella put the towels in the cupboard and knelt down between Anna’s knees. She gently rubbed the inside of Anna’s soft white thighs. She hadn’t even been in the shower yet. Ella traced large circles around Anna’s thighs using her soft carnal touch making Anna breath hard before bending her head forward to allow her tongue to go to work, hungrily lapping Anna’s vajayjay paying extreme attention to her clitoris. Ella knew exactly where to touch Anna who was gyrating her hips around Ella’s long curly blond hair letting out a soft “Ohhhh my” Ella’s instincts took over and she expertly plied her tongue in and out of Anna vigorously as Anna’s moans got louder and louder until she climaxed. “Oh my God Anna, come bathe with me.” The two set in the warm water as Ella tenderly washed every inch of Anna’s body with soap as well as tongue. No sooner had she finished bathing her when Drizzle’s voice screeched out, “Maaaaa. They’re doing it again and she’s gonna burn lunch!”

Sinner Ella quickly jumped up from the tub, dried off and ran down to the kitchen where Lady T was waiting, face all scrunched up in a scowl. “God damn you little bitch you’ll be the death of us all. Keep your slutty girlie sex shit to yourself you dyke and finish cleaning up this house. I’m taking the girls shopping to get gowns for the Princes Ball on Saturday. You make sure all the chores are done and maybe I’ll let you go too.” Ella smiled to herself dreaming that she could dance with anyone let alone a Prince, but she also doubted it would ever happen. Nothing good ever happened to Ella since her father abandoned her. She worried the only dancing she would ever be involved in was pole dancing or lap dancing at the “Daddy Issues Naked Titty Bar” in town. She obeyed finishing the chicken lunch and served it to the three bitches that were ruining her life. After lunch Lady T took them out shopping while Sinner Ella alone in the house danced with a broom pretending it was a man. She then used that man to sweep up all the floors, plus she cleaned the dishes and straightened out the living room. She looked over at the three piles of dirty clothes thinking her chores would never end.

While scrubbing the kitchen floor Ella heard the three shopping ladies come home all excited. “Come Sinner Ella, come see what we got for the Princes ball.” Drizzle held up a spectacular Ann Tyler Blue sequined full length gown with a long slit up the thigh. “Ewww Mommie, I like! I bet that Prince will want to do me right there on the dance floor.” She then opened a shoe box, “Especially when he see’s my sexy self in these black leather Prada’s here.” Sinners heart sunk, the shoes were remarkable. Patent leather Saffiano pumps in Nero black with two and a half inch heels. A shiny pointed toe shoe that would reveal just the right amount of toe cleavage. Sexy yet sensible they were quite hot, but still nothing compared to Ella’s erection enticing Jimmy Choo’s. If only she could wear them to the ball and dance with the Prince. If only! Then Anna held up her gown, a fiery red Jovani full length sleeveless V neck sure to highlight her more than ample cleavage. She would surely look super sexy in that number, but worse, on top of that she would be wearing silver Manolo Blahnik’s with open toe and jeweled bows. With nearly four inch heels they came pretty close to Ella’ shoes. “Ewwww, I’m gonna look hot. The hell with the Prince, I want to do the Princes sister.” Lady T slapped her daughter, “You better get that lesbian shit out of your head right now. That’s for little trampy cunts like Ella! Get to church tomorrow and pray away the gay!” At first Anna objected, “But Mommy dearest,” then thinking the better of it just said, “You’re right Mommy, I’ll go to church.” But the telling glance she gave Ella let them all know that church or no church no gay was gonna
be getting prayed away . She is what she is.

Still believing her Dad would one day return it surprised Ella when Lady T showed off her newly bought wardrobe as well. Lady T held up a sexy black appliqué cocktail ball dress that would reveal almost all of her legs leaving very little to the imagination. Spaghetti straps would allow most of her smooth skinned back and breast to show freely and the sheer full length see through lace bottom made it one of the sexiest dresses Ella had ever seen. But the killer was when she pulled out a pair of shoes from the shoebox. Coal black Ostrich teazers with six inch spike heels with zipper up and straps to criss cross up her calves. Ella was stunned, shoes that rivaled her very own hump me pumps. Sinner Ella hid the tears that were sneaking down her cheeks and left to her room as Lady T bragged, “You ladies may have youth on your side but I’m gonna fuck that Prince’s brains and wallet right into the castle with this number. I’ll have that young stud screaming my name from between my thighs begging for more. I’ll show you how to bring the sexy girls, just you watch your cougar Mom tie a leash around his royal shlong! Get ready for a new Daddy girls, Mama T is brining sexy back!”

Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of Sinner Ella

Behind The Music, Stonehenge Stock , 420 BC (intro)

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Behind The Music, Stonehenge Stock , 420 BC
J.T. Hilltop

Woodstock is considered to be the first ever mass gathering of a rock an roll concert although many, myself included would argue it began at The Monterey Pop Festival during the summer of love. But recent discoveries by archeologist show that we are all wrong, the true first weekend of peace love and music was put on by the Pagans in the UK at a place called Stonehenge in 420 BC. Back then it wasn’t called rock and roll, it was called stone and stumble and it was part of their counter culture. Take this recently found papyrus music sheet with song lyric scribed for the popular Pagan harmonizing genius’s Crossbow, Whiskystills, and Nash-hash:
Stonehenge
I came upon a child in the fields
Whilst walking along the path
I enquired “where dost thou walk to”
And this is what he told me
I walk along to Maximus Yasgurwoods farm
To join in a stone and stumble band
Set our camp along the henge
To seteth thy soul free
(Chorus)
Thou art starburst
Thou art goldstone
And we gots to plant ourselves back in our garden

By the time we got to Stonehenge
We were a couple thousand strong
And everywhere was song and celebration
And I dreamed I saw a sun god
Riding shotgun in the sky
And we all turned into whippoorwills
Above the nation
(Chorus)

This relic was found with other ancient artifacts including a lute played by Jimi Henbicks and a clown nose belonging to Wavy-Ravey leading scientists to believe that Stonehenge was indeed built as a stage for Stone and Stumble bands across the UK back in the day. WAY back in the day, 420BC, The Flintstone years, 10 million strong…. and growing. The Stoners Age when Bedrockpalooza and Occupy Rock Quarry were popular. Archeologists now believe that the Stonehenge ruins are all that’s left of an enormous soundstage which played to thousands of young partying Pagans, some who danced naked and took to frolicking openly, many while under the influence of barleycorn weed, a popular and tasty intoxicant when smoked. That weekend celebration of love, life, and music changed their world forever. Well actually it changed it only until the brutal Roman soldiers invaded the land of Pagans forcing them into chains of Christianity but before that devastating event the only event anyone spoke of was the three days of Love, Peace, and Music (and rain) on Maximus Yasgurwoods sheep farm known as Stonehenge Stock.

Stonehenge Stock was the brainstorm of childhood friends Ian Kellerlay and Declan Mc Intyre of Brea Scarra Off the coast of Scotland. They had the incredible insight to create a venue that could unite all the various music styling’s of the UK. With top acts like the blues singer Janus, Canned Campfire, Dublin Bay Dirtwater Revival, Countryside Joe McDougle and the fish, Worcestershire Zeppelin, The Ungracious Dead, Jefferson Chariot, The Immobile Stones, and The Salisbury Hill Stompers, nine music scenes in all would be represented. Each of the nine music scenes were represented by a giant stone indicative of its region. Represent!

The festival lasted three days and nights showcasing some 30 Stone and Stumble acts to almost 40,000 jubilant attendees. The crowd was so large the New English Chariot Thru-way was closed. Lotta freaks man! Tremendous efforts were made to feed the crowds, nearly 500 pounds of haggis was consumed. Breakfast in bed! Two children were born, a number of rug burns and other rug related casualties occurred, and one person died but all in all the festival was considered a huge success. Or disaster, depending which news media you listen to. This is Behind The Music, the truth behind Stonehenge Stock 420BC, The three part series presented by Be My Bud, the leaders in the legal marijuana industry
Tune in Next Friday for part I

The House Of The Rising Sons, (the original erector set).

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erectorsets

Another sick bastard bible selection

Sodomy and Go More….ahhhh

A tale of two cities mentioned many times in the Bible, the Torah, and the Quran. The history so deep it even makes a few appearances in the new testament. What makes these two cities so popular in religious documents? Sex sells, and the added stories of Sodomy an Go More, ahhh sold the hell, pardon the irony, out of the bible. Where exactly are these cities? Much like the infamous G spot men have been unable to locate the exact area that filled its occupants with so much passionate joy. But the where is not too important, we can be guided there with a skillful partner so today I am focusing on the what. What’s the sick bastards take on this sexually charged tale of orgies and try-sexuality of the legendary iconic bible selling segment of the scriptures. This is the story of The Rising Sons, (the original erector set).

God began sitting on his laurels after his highly successful pairing of Adam and Eve thanks to his inventing Christian mingle.com. The whole Cain and Abel thing worked itself out and he assumed that his flood had eradicated sinning altogether. But you know what happens when you assume, even if the me is god himself. He heard some stories about thee tow cities plagued with sin. To the North in Go More, ahhh, Mayor Farley-Ford ran his city allowing copious amounts of drugs and alcohol to flow freely in the streets. Why the mayor himself was constantly drunk and messed up on whatever drug he could get his hands on, and flew into drunken rages lashing out at anyone and everyone. The streets of this maple tree lined city were filled with stoned out couples pawing at each other sex organs right out in the open. He had heard that it was like one giant orgy so the big guy sent Abraham out to investigate. Abe, being the almighty’s right hand did a hands on, well pretty much every body part on investigation of the two sinning towns.

He stopped first in Sodomy where instead of ravaging young maidens he was molested by a bunch of horny and hung dudes that really stuck it to him. At first he was repulsed but when he turned to the church for help he ended up shagging the priesthood. The whole lot of them plus Lott as well. In sodomy the sex was all mano a mano or bumper to bumper, which is to say they all adorned their gay apparel if you catch my drift. After waking up after an all nighter with a pounding headache and a knob with no more throb Abraham had enough. Time to report back to the big guy, but first a parting blow from his favorite dude, Vegas. Abraham was not worried because what happened in Vegas, well you get it.

So Abe told the lustless lord all about the sinning ways of Sodomy and Go More, ahhh, leaving out the part about his parts. The G-man knew what had to be done. Destroy the getting of some tail of two cities. Of course, being a drama queen, Mrs. God wanted him to come up with a devious plan, so he scheduled a new show, The Real Housewives of the Fertile Crescent. He sent an angel disguised as a man to punk Lot and expose the homo erectus of Sodomy. When the angel came Lot was required by law to protect his guest who was such a hunk even straight dudes took notice. Hungry homo’s surrounded the house which scared the crap out of Lot. Not literally, just really scared him. He offered his two virgin daughters instead which only pissed everyone off, especially Lot’s wife and kids and they gay crowd huffed and puffed and blew the house down. The angel flipped out and struck all the rioters blind and told Lot and his family to leave town and never look back because it was being destroyed.

As they left they could hear the acid rain coming down and knew the city was getting sulphurized. They could hear the cries of agony as the community of multi-sexual sinners burned alive. Lots wife couldn’t help herself, she needed to take a quick photo for instagram, but as she turned around the high and mighty converted her into salt to season the lip of his margarita glass. Lot and his still virgin girls never looked back. After the brim stoning of Sodomy and Go More, ahhh, no one ever doubted the man upstairs again. Repent or burn was the new catchphrase.

That’s all this sick bastard could glean from the internet about the story of these sin cities, so if you have some more info that has not yet been released please contact me so I can up date the Sick Bastards Bible. Thank you, and please, repent before its to late. You never know when the all loving and caring god can have a bad hair day and turn on us with vengeance.

The Angels Surprise

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Back on familiar ground, the streets of The Lower East Side of New York. I had two things in mind, to find some get high and get back to my crib. I usually copped at Alan and Chrysie streets but “operation pressure point” had recently inhabited the entire area and flooded it with police presence. I got a tip from a fellow user that “Executive”, the best dope in town, had relocated to second street and first avenue. Finding good dope in the city was a game of hide and seek and once you understand how the game is played there are certain indicators look for and I found a steerer who steers people to the product.

Off to in search of some buzz, walking down 3rd street, no particular reason just a random route. I had just crossed 2nd ave when I spotted a somewhat unusual looking van. A used telephone company van in faded drab olive green color. Unusual and familiar because it’s the same kind of van my buddy Jim had when we got busted in South Carolina during a stopover on our way to Arizona. No big deal, a thirty day stint in a local jail filled with muscle bound angry Barny Fifes. Thing is Jim had some money wired an payed his fine leaving me there to pay my debt to society alone. Thirty days later I was put out on the street somewhere in SC, I think the name of the town was Inbred Cenral, with no money and no backpack of possessions which left with Jim and the van. My friend Judas Jim up and left me, taking my worldly possessions in a knapsack, and hit out I assume for Arizona with his girlfriend but without me. Alone and penniless a new odyssey began as I hitch hiked my way back to New York fuming the entire three days about my Judas friend. It was an adventure I’ll never forget, and I met a number of decent people along the way that restored my waning faith in humanity. But that was water under the bridge now.

At least it was until the sight of that van conjured up dark memories and returned me to a very angry place. Adrenaline pumped as I thought, “Holy shit, Jims fucking van right here in my city. If he’s around here I shall reign down upon that piece of shit all my vengeance.” A closer look was needed. A tell tale sign would be the custom job Jim had made in the van for his Prima Donna junkie girlfriend. He had taken the passenger seat out and replaced it with a nice comfortable chair his brother had adjusted to fit in place of the standard seat. A semi swivel leather chair meant for a living room modified for his mainlining princess. If I find that in the van I will know that Jimbo Judas is very soon to receive an overdue ass kicking of epic proportion. An unfamiliar devious smile spread across my cheeks, not normally one to engage in such trivial emotional payback, but those thirty days were tough, getting my ass beat by hick sadist cops every other day, then starving and alone in a town 6000 miles from home. The memories have been dormant for some time now but now the evil gargoyle of beat down memories quickly percolated to the boiling point in an instant. Payback is gonna be one helluva bitch for that young shit stain.

Right up to the back window I head, cupping my hands above my eyes to reduce the glare. I wanted to get a real close look to make sure this was the scumbags van. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. But as I got a good view it was no go. Just a normal two seats in the van. Disappointed I steppe back but something was nudging at the corner of my eye. I felt someone staring, no, not staring, glaring at me from across the street. I thought maybe it was the vans owner so I quickly stepped back an that’s when I noticed the bumper stickers. First one said “Free Sonny Barger“, the next said “Don’t let your tongue get your teeth knocked out” and the third simply aid “1%er” with a skull and crossbones. Free Sonny Barger, the Hell Angel busted in Cali, 1%er a bike gang term, knock your teeth out self explanatory, and the distinct sense that the overlord of hell himself was across the street firing bolts of pissed off eyeball electricity at me from his burning figure. I peeked around in front of the van. “Oh Fuck!”

A row of Harley Davidson motorcycles were parked in front of the van and went on for at least 30 scoots. I swallowed hard and peered innocently at the menacing glare from across the street and he wasn’t alone. Three men, not the three wise men but three burly greasy mean and ugly bikers stood staring at me with their arms crossed in a doorway. I looked behind them to a sight that drained every droplet of blood from my head. A red brick building with a black door and arch, a skull at the keystone of the arch and the words Hells Angels New York City in red letters. A mural style picture of a devil with a trident in one hand and flames in the other. I was staring at the entrance of the headquarters of the Hells Angels, new York City Chapter. They didn’t look friendly nor looking to give me an invitation for tea. The three men walked much too quickly towards me.

The ground shook with each step these three gorillas took but not nearly as much as I was shaking. I blurted out what a horrible misunderstanding this was but I think it sounded more like, “Oh hey wait, no, please, I it, I umm, someone with a van, no please don’t do tha….gurgle gurgle t’fuuu tooie.” as I tried to beg for my life through a split lip and maybe some lost teeth. It was just one of the dudes hitting me, the other two laughing and taunting me in unrecognizable English. After repeated punches to my face as I lay crumble on the ground he reeled back an introduced my ribs to his motorcycle boot which for as far as I Can guess was “just for good measure.” The three of them stood over me laughing like idiots although I wouldn’t tell them that to their faces. I assume reading is beyond they’re level of education so I feel pretty safe writing about it now. I thought they were going to pound me into a slow and painful death but the beating portion of the event was apparently over. One of the Neanderthal bikers grabbed me and picked me up like a sack of potatoes then sat me on top of a garbage pail. “Now what the fuck was you doing with your eyeballs in our brothers cage?” It was hard to speak as I was choking on my own blood and all I could think about was how much everything hurt but I did my best to lay out my story. When I got to the part where I said I wanted to kick the shit out of the traitor Jim it seemed ironic. I was sure they would punch the shit out of me just for acting arrogant. When it comes to kicking ass their expertise shines.

Luckily for me my tale of woe struck a familiar barbaric chord with my new biker friends. They invited me inside the clubhouse asking for more detail obviously hungry for a good story. Once I had their attention my story telling instincts kicked in. I embellished on my prison stint in South Carolina, stretching my sentence form thirty days to ninety days and included a number of beatings by guards while handcuffed in a chair. I leveled so much anger and distain at authority and my nemesis Jim they began cheering and swore if he ever came to New York they would sever his arteries for me and let me take any spare parts home. I was Scheherazade of the Hells Angels that day coming up with new and more barbaric tales each time as they fed me cheapshit beer while listening intently as if I were reading them a bedtime story.

Eventually they let me clean up and sent me on my way with an open invitation, but I knew I would never be back to accept. Not that they weren’t a fun crowd but chances are they won’t remember me ten minutes after I’m gone, and like a Doberman, you just never know when it may turn and make you its victim. From that point on when I was headed down to that part of the city I would walk blocks out of my way to avoid 3rd street between first and second.

No Angel Born In Hell

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

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I was MIA for two years and now I’m back in town to see Miles my best friend and riding partner. We di everything together, even went together to Port Jeff Harley Davidson to get our bikes. I got the Sportster shovelhead in black, miles went for a customized candy apple red with flames. Miles was a bit showy but that’s one of the things I loved so much about him. In high school we were both considered a little odd, flaunting our uniqueness’s, but Miles took his to the extreme. Long before any of us knew what glam rock was he had a long shag haircut and wore iridescent tight jeans, sparkled socks’ with platform shoes while I stayed loyal to concert tee’s, bell bottoms, and my red, white, and blue “moratorium” sneakers. They called us the big freak and the bigger freak but we always had the best weed so they seldom called us that to our faces. The power of supply and demand was in our favor.

We were both also first on line to experiment with any new drug and to stretch the boundaries of sensible abuse of the drugs. So it wasn’t much of a surprise that when I came back to town it was in part to detox. Nor would anyone be shocked that it was Miles I turned to. I had left town 2 years ago and moved into the big city where I fell into the clutches of addiction. Not much of a surprise there either but bottom line is I wanted to detox and Miles was the only one I could turn to. What was a surprise was when he answered the door. Full red beard and long red locks obscuring a hardened face and wearing a Pagan Motorcycle cut off jean jacket. Mild Miles. Crazyman Miles. I can’t see for Miles and Miles cuz I’m so stoned Miles. The hippie peace loving non confrontational Miles I left behind was now in a violent motorcycle group.

The second we saw each other we embraced like long separated lovers. Two peas getting back in the pod, Frick mending ways with Frac, peanut butter reuniting with jelly. Best pals from kindergarten till after high school together again.It was a magic moment shared by two outcasts that had each gone out in search of themselves. I became a city bohemian starving artist writer, a potential Salvatore Dali with a typewriter and a thesaurus holding down cooking job to make ends meet. That and to feed an addiction. And now Miles a what? A kickass biker dude? “Holy shit Bro, long time man, you look great. Full beard, long hair and a..A Pagan MC jacket. Wow, I mean like jeez bro you look…well you look kinda mean. You hooked up with the Pagans?” Miles grinned his infectious grin. A grin that grabbed your smile muscles and forced them upward. His grin was so intoxicating women would get woozy and he would get lucky with jut a smile. As always I fell prey to it as well. “Yea bro, me, a fucking biker right?? Who’da thunk Miles Martin would be a badass biker with the Pagans. I bet most of our friends figured me for a burnt out junkie loser or some shit, hahaha.”… Ouch, that stung. I forced my smile muscles not to participate in his enchanting grin game and looked down at the ground slightly embarrassed. When I sniffled he figured it out instantly, “Oh hey JT, sorry man, I…I” He stepped back and rolled up my sleeve. “Oh shit Bro not you? What about our pact? What happened?”

I began to sheepishly explain how I just got caught up in it, using a partially true excuse of researching the sub cultures of the city to write my stories an catching a habit researching street survivors in The lower East Side. That was how it began but it was me that fucked up and chose to keep going back for more not for research, but for relief. “That’s part of why I’m here man, I’m sick and I need help. I want to kick Bro, I want out but I ain’t got no one to turn to. My family disowned me, don’t even wanna hear my name, my girlfriend moved back to Kansas just to get away from me, and everyone else I know is either too strung out or too stoned to give a shit.” Miles got it, he knew instantly what to do. I knew he wouldn’t judge me or turn his back on me or tell me to get lost, he was a true brother. “Come on in man, have a brew. Let me make a few calls. First we’ll get you right and then we’ll get you clean.” he sat me down, tossed me a PBR, and disappeared. I guzzled the beer listening to ZZ Top, sniffling all the while as the physical aspect of my sickness from addiction became more noticeable. Five minutes later Miles returned, “Come on JT my brother, I’m gonna get you a dose of methadone for tonight and then we’ll go to a Pagan safe house to clean up. We‘ll take my cage.”

Miles cage, what bikers call their cars, was a cheap sedan of some type, I never really noticed. He drove about fifteen minutes to a bar in Amityville called “Blue T”. I could tell Blue T was a biker bar the second we pulled up because I saw rows of incredible scoots lined up in front. Mostly tricked out Hogs, a few Indians, a pair of Triumphs, and one Norton all shining and gleaming. It was a beautiful sight and I started to understand why Miles hooked up. He told me to wait as he went into The Blue T, returning after two minutes with a dude that scared the shit out of me with just a glance. He was about six four an maybe 275 pounds dressed in all black. His big oval face was obscured by a huge stringy jet black beard that went below his tee shirt neckline. His hair was just as coal black but long and greasy and sorely in need of a brush. Or at least some shampoo. In the middle of that hirsute framed face were two mean and angry giant beady eyes set way back in his head. They appeared to be stuck in pissed off mode and I feared his grimace was surgically implanted. As he got closer it became apparent that personal hygiene was not a priority. A reddened worn face with acne that betrayed he was much younger than he appeared. I wondered if he had ever had a moment in his life when he wasn’t angry. He looked directly at me with incredible distain, “This the asshole Red?” Miles stepped up, “yea JuJu, this is my buddy man, he’s cool. Give him a break Bro, he’s sick right now. Just do me this favor dude an I’ll owe you.” I shivered and let out another sniffle as an exclamation point. “Fuck this asshole Redbeard. Look, I’ll give him half my take home but stop with this punk ass I’m sick bullshit. You think you’re the first dipshit to use the spike?” He was looking at me now an I tried to sound halfway normal, “No man, no, I dig it, you’re right man, I just want this shit to stop man.” He shot me a look that may actually be able to kill and passed me a vial, “Drink half, but just fucking half asshole, this is my take home.” I obliged, thanking him enthusiastically for his generosity. The methadone clinics are only open Monday to Friday so on Fridays reformed junkies in the program get take home doses to get them through. Giving up half your take home was no small favor, he really did me a huge favor, or rather for Redbeard. I passed the remainder back putting out my hand to shake, but he just glared, turned, and walked back into the bar. I looked at Mile and thanked him then asked “Reddbeard” His grin returned triumphantly and he merely ssaid, “long story.”

Miles slapped my shoulder, “c’mon, lets go puff a joint then we’ll have a few brews. My sponsors gonna pick us up in an hour to bring us to a safe house.” We went out back to puff a joint. By the time we finished the methadone was just beginning to kick in and for the first time all day I felt good. We went inside sat on stools at the bar of Blue T to have some beer an catch up. It was a frightening experience just looking around. I was afraid to look at the chicks for pissing off one of these dudes. They were all big burly badasses virtually all dressed in black, “I’m sorry man, I gotta know. How the fuck did you end up with the Pagans?” Miles guzzled his beer straight own, wiped his thick red beard splattering a mix of spit and beer off his mustache into my lap and began his story.

“After you left I had no one to run with. Patrick went off to college and Sam got married and sold his bike. Rest of the assholes from town gave me nuthin but shit so I said fuck it and started hanging alone. I was chilling at Gunderstocks in Northport. and this dude come up tells me about a party out in Amityville. Dude looked cool and I was alone so of course I say fuck yea, and turns out it’s a Pagan club party. Booze and chicks everywhere man, I thought I was in biker heaven bro. So I talk to my new friend and he tells me if I want to get in with the Pagans I gotta do my time. If they like ya they let ya become a hanger on. Then if your lucky a member will sponsor you an you go through all kinds of bullshit I can‘t talk about here. Dude says he’s been a hanger on for two months now. That night I got so fucked up, had so much fun, and on top of it got laid by two biker chicks at once. I’m telling ya JT, the fucking best ever”

“So I became a hanger on, went to all their parties, carried the kegs, picked up grain alcohol and weed for them, cleaned up after, shit like that. Whatever they wanted they just yell ’Yo citzen, get me a joint, or bring me a beer, whatever. Three months go by, I’m hanging around all the time, getting laid like every day trying to impress a member to sponsor me. One morning its like seven AM, everybody’s tanked and tired and this member says to me, ‘Yo Citizen, make us some breakfast’ So here’s my big chance ya know, cooking like you an me always done working at Moonriders. So I whipped them up a great breakfast, made them hash brown potatoes, sausage and bacon, eggs with parmesan, and everyone’s like holy shit fucking citizen can cook. Next thing I’m cooking all the time and they start calling me Chef Boy Ar Dee. That’s cool because it beats the shit out of lugging and cleaning and gets me noticed. Two more months of that when the dude what originally asked me to make breakfasts asks if I want him to be my sponsor. Well hell fucking yea I want a sponsor, that’s why I’m there, so he sponsors me.”

Just then another biker came up and whispered something to Miles. Miles looks up at him says “Cool, thanks,” and the dude leaves. “Okay JT, finish your brew buddy, we leave in ten. When we get to the safe house. I’ll finish my tale then an you’re gonna tell me how the fuck you ended up with that shit in your veins.” I picked up my beer and began guzzling when I hear a commotion to my left. A dude was sitting on a stool next to me minding his business sipping a beer when a biker wearing his Pagan colors pushes his head into the bar, “I asked you what you said about my bike mother fucker!” The dude was confused. He rubbed the area on his head that had just been introduced to the bar counter answering, “What? Hey man, I didn’t say nothing about nothing man, I’m just drinking a beer.” The Pagan grabbed him by the shoulder, “You calling me a fucking liar asshole?” and lowered a hard right hook to the dudes forehead. It was right in front of my face, I saw the skin cave inward on hiss forehead then reverberate back in place all red. After another punch to his chin he lost his balance and fell to the floor. I was in shock but it was like no one else noticed as the dude jumped up fists flying. They bumped my stool spilling half my beer all over me as they engaged in hand to hand combat, splattering blood around from someone’s nose. They brawled valiantly the sound of thuds and cracks as they pummeled each others faces and heads until the barstool dude had nothing left and just collapsed. Shaken up I looked at Miles and said, “Dude, I’m sorry. I know this is your gig but I can’t handle this, I gotta split man.” Miles stood up, “No worries buddy, were leaving now anyway. We’re gonna get you straight.” He through a twenty on the bar and led me out. I stayed very close so they knew I was with him.
Next episode, Kicking It In The Safe House