Tag: satire

Rear View Paranoid

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REAR-VIEW

I thought my life was flashing before my eyes as paranoia began creating a vortex for its ascent from my stomach up into my head. Fear shot electronic impulses through my entire body as the flashing continued. Get hold of yourself dude, everythings cool!! Its an actual flashing not my life flashing. A quick peek in the rear view mirror reveals there is a cop car advertising its intentions behind me in my car. The cop car drove past me in pursuit of another driver. My adrenal glands began chuckling as the paranoia flew out the window into the cosmos. Those flashing lights weren’t for me at all. The welcome relief washed over me but the tension remained. WTF? At this point of my life I am an upstanding law abiding citizen. Well aside from whatever I may do in the privacy of my own home but that’s my business. My car is legal, I drive and obey the traffic laws, (like never speed when a cop is near by, etc.) so I have no reason to fear even if I do get pulled over. I no longer keep any stashes under my seat or papers in the console. Hell man, I even had my seatbelt on. So why this rush of paranoia every time a cop is behind me when I drive? Primal evolutionary instinct? Not exactly but it can be traced back to my teen years.
Like most of the derelict suburban youths of my era my first contact with police outside of school visits, or watching Dick Tracy and Courageous cat and Minute Mouse, was our own teenage version of cat and mouse with the cops. We wanted to get drunk drinking cheap beer or wine and they wanted to catch us and sadistically pour it out while sarcastically letting us know we should head home to Mommy and Daddy. In truth it was an okay relationship for both parties, they could tell the adults in town that the streets were free of drunken degenerate teen hoodlums and we only had to cry over spilled beer, not get in big trouble with Mom and Dad. But it all changed when the evil Satan Smoke, Beelzebub bud, the Devils Weed crept its vile horned joint rolled self into our teen culture. The sinister antichrist herbal delight swept into our teen lungs, relieving our teen angst, making us teen laugh, giving us teen munchies, and made us feel all around teen fucking awesome.
Unfortunately the post teen portion of suburbia was not as enchanted with wacky weed as we were, they were certain it would turn each and every one of us into drug addicted serial killers who threaten to tear and shred the very fabric of their three martini society to shreds. Our relationship with the police altered drastically at this point. The police needed to massage the concerns of the scotch swilling adults assuring them no marijuana could find its way into their neighborhoods but we wanted to massage our minds with that very same illegal weed of wit and wisdom. Now our job as teens was to smoke pot and get high free of handcuffs and the cops hoped to arrest us and lock us up so the rest of society could rest easy knowing the refer mad hooligans were locked up alongside murderers, rapers, and armed robbers. Where we belonged. (is there a special font for sarcasm?) Then and only then could society relax and take a deep breath. Not a breath test, because I’m pretty certain most of our parents would register above the limit for alcohol. Anyway, the dichotomy changed, we found better hiding spots and continued our evil ways and cops continued in fruitless pursuit of passionate pot puffing juvenile perps.
Once we began driving however, the cops had the advantage. With badge comes privilege and the police were willing and able to take liberties in their attempts to remove our liberties. Now they could exact their revenge for our ability to avoid capture by flashing those strobe like red lights to pull us over on a minor violation accomplishing two things. First they knew that it sent a surge of paranoia through our circulatory systems causing discomfort, perhaps even incontinence. That’s the primal response I was speaking of earlier. Secondly, a pull over and the badge equipped them with everything they needed to search our cars to find out where we kept our hash pipes or hidden stashes, because they knew we were still prolifically puffing the perverse pot of decadence. With any luck they would then have the opportunity to use the Miranda right speech they had committed to memory for real. The bust of the neighborhood, a few more hardened (well stoned anyway) criminals locked away making society safe to continue forcing its backward values on their youths.
So now, even when I’ve reached the age where high school students read about our antics of demonstrating while high on the woeful weed in their history classes I still stiffen in paranoia when a cops lights flash in my mirror. That’s living proof of evolution right there, my brain has adapted to the fear of danger caused by flashing red lights just as our ancestors developed the fight or flight response from being chased by ferocious human devouring animals. My children probably have this red light fear gene embedded in their DNA already. Or maybe its just a stoner reaction. If that’s the case I wonder is if this paranoid phenomenon will ever cease. Will I ever be able to drive normally when a cop is behind me? Am I destined to peering behind my wheelchair in the old folks home if a light flickers while rolling to early bird dinner?
I get that the institution of policing is important, ever since I reached the point I understood I really never was invincible I understood that believing in anarchy is a part of teen angst coming of age, but like I said, I obey laws. For the most part anyway, and the few laws I may bend are hardly worth punishing because I obviously will never learn and will never consider my minor indiscretions to be evil or wrong. But seriously guys, there must be a way to break this cycle of fear every time I see a cop.
PEACE

Reboot, An Evolutionary Tale

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part 2

Previously:

I’ve nothing but time young dude, so help an old man out here, what’s going on? Are you with the Geek Death Squad?”

Hey, are like Gandalf or something man? Is this Middle Earth here?”

“You head is spinning because of the buffering JT, it’s a side effect of dying. It will go away once your operating system is renewed.”

Fuck Dee Bays, I’m going where I wanna go dead or not! Stick it myself?! I‘ll stick it where the fucking sun don‘t shine baby. One last ride downstream, to hell with Interface Mountain.
II
The anger began subsiding while having fun jumping from rock to rock attempting to negotiate my way downstream. The ice cold water rushed up over my feet, some rocks were slippery some not so much but all in all I just had a great time laughing and jumping. Who needs serenity? Rock jumping was always one of the most fun things my friends and I did when we were teens on our vacations in the Catskills. Criss-crossing the streams looking for the water falls, stopping to smoke some weed here and there, just the most carefree days ever. Those were the days man, getting stoned, listening to rock, climbing rocks, riding down waterfalls, skinny dipping, making love out in wilderness, doing whatever we wanted without a worry in the world. It was so much fun and so relaxing. I was so into the memories I barely even noticed that the fish in the stream were hopping along following me downstream until I heard one speak. Yea, yea, I know, it sounds all hallucinationy and trippy, a little too much THC, but I hadn’t smoked anything in ages and wasn’t in possession of anything now. But I had no doubt it was a fish talking when it jumped out of the water addressing me directly , “Isn’t this great? Makes me feel so serene.” I laughed, partially because a fish was speaking to me and partially because I was feeling giddy, “Yea your right there Mr. Trout, it is almost serene. Its actually…..wait….Did you say SERENE?” Trouts were now jumping all over the place. I heard a stupid fish tell me it felt serene, just like the old dude wanted me enjoy. Co-incidence? No way! I spoke to all the trouts in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “Okay, way to weird, there’s something fishy here!” The trout all began jumping and giggling, “We’re all fishy JT, on a scale of one to fin, we are most definitely fin possessing talking fish.” Now I’m conversing with a group of rainbow trouts! “Cut the shit! Fish can’t talk, is that you old dude?” But the giggling touts wouldn’t stop, I felt like I was trapped in some Billy The Big Mouth Bass infomercial. My own personal Hell, a bunch of fish making fun of me. “Old dude old dude fish can’t talk, young dude young dude fish can’t walk.” A chorus of trout singing like school children. One trout stopped in front of me peering up from some rocks, “Fish can’t talk? Says who JT? We have always talked, you just never cared enough to listen JT. You humans are so wrapped up in your own worlds you never take the time out to try and communicate with other species unless its for your benefit or pleasure. You trap animals in labs for testing, stick us in zoos or aquariums so your kids can gawk at us, or pen us up and force feed us to make us big so we can feed and clothe you. You always act like you’re the most important thing on this planet but you’re far from it. Only in your deaths are you ever properly humbled. That’s why you guys only get rebooted. You’re no longer a part of the cycle of life, you disregard the laws of nature. Time for you to leave this stream, you don’t belong here. We don‘t want you here.” All the other trout had become silent creating a pounding silence that I remembered all too well. All the times I got into real bad trouble with Mom and Dad they would gang up on me to grill me with questions and accusations to near breaking point. I remember the silence thundering out a pulsating uneasy rhythm, a loud yet inaudible thumping warning me that I had no way out, I was caught. Busted. This is absurd! I want to cry because a trout just put me in my place. I felt a tear sneak out and roll down my cheek. As if on cue a towel hit the top of my forehead and covered my face. “Wipe off the tears JT, time to go.”
I recognized the voice in an instant. Old dude. “Hey man what was that all about? You get talking fish to make a point for you? Then force me to dredge up an unpleasant childhood memory? Why, just because I wouldn’t do what you wanted me to? Okay I get, I get it, you win old dude. I’ll go to the top of the mountain. Just no more of this weird shit man, it’s freaking me out. I just wanna get this over with.” I waded through the stream to the bank in the direction the towel had come from. “You don’t need to climb anywhere JT, you’re at the top of Interface Mountain.” I wiped my face with the towel and looked around astonished. Sure enough, I was at the top of the mountain looking at an amazing waterfall just below my feet. The water shot out a good ten feet over the mountain to what had to be a two hundred yard drop of sparkling silver sheets of moving water. “How the…what the….I thought you said you weren’t a wizard old dude?” Old dude was now sitting in front of me suspended in air without visible support, “I’m not a wizard JT, I’m a cloud, a data base. Its not Dee Bays, its D-Base. I am all the genetic information of humanity, the database of human existence and evolution. You’re here to be rebooted into another human life form but first I am attempting to load some information into you so the next human will grow up with some of your memories.” He placed his hand gently under my chin and closed my gaping jaw, “Wait, what? You’re implanting memories in me before letting die? I don’t get it, why?” Before I knew it I was sitting suspended in front of him. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, I mean I’ve been through a very strange death ordeal, the geek, Gandalf here, the mountain, talking to some angry trout, so why not float on air while some cloud injects me with memories? Sounds pretty plausible. “Not implant false memories in you JT, just pass along your DNA with a little more information designed to get humans back on track in evolutionary terms. Not so much passing you memories but more like echoes of memories. Did you ever just know something and not remember why you knew it, or gone somewhere familiar? Or see a place that intrigues you an you can’t figure out why? That’s not coincidence JT, its memory echoes of previous lives. You have echoes in your head that track back as far as the dawn of civilization. Take the fight or flight gene, or the fact that toxins smell putrid to you. Those are echoes you have from previous lives, ones who discovered the hard way that toxins can kill. That’s what evolution does, it takes these echoes and creates new defenses and strategies from them. Unfortunately, somewhere shortly before the Agricultural Revolution humans began practicing rituals that go against the law of nature. Life my son is a system of perfect synergies. Trees absorb the energy from the sun, supply homes to millions of creatures, give us oxygen, and when they die they feed millions of micro-organisms which are eaten by insects. The insects are eaten by larger predators and those predators eaten by even larger ones. And when creatures die they feed the vegetation through decomposition. A perfect system. Well perfect until humans began burning their dead, bogarting the vegetation, and killing other creatures because they MAY eat plants you determined you could own. You can’t own things that grow freely, but humans don’t care about that, they lock up food keeping it away, tear apart ecosystems to build factories. You destroy more than you create. Progress is one thing, you’re evolving to be smarter yet you still aren’t smart enough to see how life works. Not just for humans, but for all things.”

I really had to mull this over, I mean I dig that he‘s right about some things but we need to survive as a species. I can think of a number of assholes that could use some of his echoes, but why me? “So stop me if you heard this before, you want to plant that info into my DNA like a gene splice, send me down the river where I’ll be what? Born again? Are you Gandalf the Baptist or something? This is crazy man. Listen old dude, all due respect, but I am not like that, I care about the planet and what humans do to it. Okay, I may not belong to Greenpeace, I’m no Ralph Fucking Nader or anything but I did my part and I love animals. Not like throw red paint on a mink coat PETA love but loved none the less. I understand we treat animals real shitty sometimes and I wasn’t like a vegan or anything but I understood and disliked the way animals were treated. Hunting for sport seemed selfish and wrong to me. I respected other life forms and have always kept an open mind about life. Now I’m dead and you keep playing head games trying to make me feel bad about how humans have acted and frankly G its not my damn fault. I care and I understand. Why not peddle this stuff to the jerks who need it” Old dude was smiling like he had just sunk my Battleship. “Yes JT, and where do you think your feelings came from? Evolution takes many years, many generations and your generation was a big step. But lately humans have been stepping backwards and going back to the old school concept of destroy whatever doesn’t fit your needs. So we are renewing our efforts to help save humanity by reprogramming your evolution. That cable I gave you is loaded with echoes which you will pass on in an attempt to get humanity back on track before they destroy themselves completely. If humans don’t evolve correctly there will be no need for an asteroid to cause mass extinction, you guys will blow the whole planet up by yourselves. The cable is attached to your body, just take the other end just like a USB terminal, plug it in over there then ride the falls to your reboot.”
I felt for the cable and sure enough, it was attached like an adult umbilical chord. I stuck the other end into a waiting socket and the sensation of spinning returned. I was buffering. I turned to look at Gandalf one last time and jumped into the waterfalls into total darkness. Wonder who I’ll be this time.

Reboot , An Evolutionary Tale

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reboot

Part I

Last thing I remember was sudden darkness and the sound of shattering glass all around accompanied by a coarse rhythm of twisting crunching metal. Car accident? Yes, yes that’s it, I was driving down the highway in a mad rush because I was late for work and then…..and then… then what? Everything is so damn foggy. Wait! Where am I? Feels like I’m in the haze of dry ice smoke at a rock show but maybe its?…Well it sure don’t smell like weed so probably not a rock show but where am I? What’s with all the smoky mist? I was in my car on the way to work and what? Oh shit now I remember, some asshole came across the median and right into……. Oh fuck, I was in a bad accident, I’m in a hospital. Yea, that’s it, I’m in a hospital and….. No wait, that can’t be right, the mist, no tubes or wires, no beeps, not in a bed, I’m…ah I’m in a…No! Wait! I’m fucking dead man? My flair for the dramatic not yet dead I paused for effect…..That’s when it began to settle into my head. I was killed in a car accident and now I’m in….. In where? The morgue? Heaven? Purgatory? The “Heaven Can Wait” waiting room? Is my AS2 guardian angel Clarence Odbody coming to take me away and earn his wings? But that’s not possible, I’m an existentialist, and if there is God he isn’t about to let me hang out on his turf, he’d probably send me to one of those special places I hear them talk about in churches. So then just where the Hell am I, pardon the expression? Actual Hell? As I was pondering my death fate a loudspeaker broke the unearthly silence. “Hilltop, Justin Thyme? Is there a JT Hilltop here?”
Before I heard this announcement I was merely confused. I thought I was all alone but I must be in a group of some sort and someone is paging me. Now its like “Peeewwww…. Mind blown!” Here I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my death when I get mind-fucked by a loudspeaker. Do I stand up or do I pretend I didn’t hear it? I was right at the point of making a decision when I noticed standing right in front of me was a young dude. “You’re JT, yes?” I gave this, this, umm, entity the once over. A nerdy looking kid somewhere in his late twenties with thick rimmed glasses and a bargain store suit that was a bit to big for his small clunky frame. He had thick but very short dark black hair and not a hint of a smile on his face. He didn’t even look my way as he was running his eyes over something on a clipboard waiting for confirmation from me. After a few seconds of silence he spoke in a monotone voice, “Don’t make this difficult Mr. Hilltop, you’re already dead so you really have nowhere else to go. Just come with me please.” He never even waited for acknowledgement just began walking away. I stood and blindly followed out of the misty mist.
At first I was kinda hoping he was in search of his lost personality but I wasn’t gonna wait to find out. I decided I would try and engage this nerd so maybe he could help acclimate me as to just where I was, “So this is your job? You come to bring the dead to their destination? Who exactly are you working for?” His pace quickened, “Something like that Mr. Hilltop. I work for no one and everyone now just come along please, no time for idle chatter.” I processed his statement. No time? Maybe he has no time but if I’m dead what the fuck do I care about time? “I have nothing but time young dude, so help an old man out here, what’s going on? Are you with the Geek Death Squad?” The nerd shook his head as though I was exasperating to him, “Mr.Hilltop you died! You have ceased to exist. You were in a car accident, a drunk driver hit you head on. Looking over your file sir it seems about as an appropriate way to die as I’ve ever seen given your pension for the bottle. That or cirrhosis anyway. Your at the terminal right now, and please no lame jokes about the name terminal its been done a few million times over the years by people far less witty than you think you are. I’m your agent assigned to take you to your Sherpa who will assist you in your transition. Now please keep quiet and continue to follow me we’re nearly there.” The only sound after his stern admonition as the tapping of our feet and the cursing under my breath.
I reached the end of a hallway feeling like my head was spinning. Not really dizzy, but constantly spinning. Grumpy the young douche-nerd opened a door speaking to someone on the other side, “I have a very uncooperative Mr. Justin Thyme Hilltop here sir. He never shuts up and he is now your problem, not mine. He’s all yours Dee.” The door opened wide so I walked inside, or actually outside. I found myself on a beautiful mountain about half the way up. Surrounded by gorgeous greenery of tree’s and shrubs, the sound of running water combined with an assortment of indefinable sounds made from various animals. An old man with long white hair complete with matching silvery beard stood in front of me. “Hey, are like Gandalf or something man? Is this Middle Earth here?” The old man smiled warmly like…..well like Gandalf actually, “No Justin, I’m not Gandalf, I’m certainly no magician or wizard and this is nothing like Middle Earth. This is Interface Mountain, I am your Sherpa, Dee Bays. Its my job to lead you back to the Mainframe after discovering your rightful place. Hopefully you can be re appropriated correctly.” I chuckled, “You’re who then and this is what now? Sorry old dude but I didn’t get a word of what the hell you just said. All I wanna know is are you the one who can tell me what exactly is going on here?” The old man had very old eyes, much older than even he himself, yet they were incredibly calming. It was as though those old eyes were a separate entity that seemed to put me at ease. Old dude placed his arm over my shoulders, “It’s okay Justin, or do you really prefer JT?” I smiled, “You can call me whatever you want but I prefer JT. How much longer do I have?” The old dude let a small laugh slip out, “Are you in a hurry JT? I can speed this up if you want?” I was pretty sure he was teasing me but just in case I answered with fear and desperation, “No,no,no, seriously, I’m in no hurry. Its just….Well my head is spinning and I feel confused.” Old dude began walking up a mountain path signaling for me to follow, “You head is spinning because of the buffering JT, it’s a side effect of dying. It will go away once your operating system is renewed. When someone dies their faith dictates their destiny, and you my friend to use a Zodiac analogy, are an Existentialist with Buddhism rising. Therefore your destiny is to reach a sort of nirvana of your own through serenity. You don’t get to reincarnate exactly, no heaven or hell for you but you get to see what really happens at the top of the Hill of Life, Interface Mountain. Some get to believe they are in heaven or hell, some Jahanna or Jahannam, still others get to believe their fates are to be placed on various cycles of life. But in the end it’s all the same, everyone goes to the top of the mountain.” I thought this over in an attempt to make sense for quite some time as I aimlessly followed him up the mountain path heading toward the sound of running water which was getting closer and closer.
Within minutes we reached the source of the sound, a running stream, where old dude sat down. “Sounds serene, yes JT?” I sat as well, “Yea serene, but why would I want serene now? I mean I’m dead right? So why wouldn’t I want to take one last fast ride with blaring rock music? What’s so cool about serenity if that’s what I’m always gonna have now?” He looked at me with a hint of curiosity, “I think you are misunderstanding JT, you’re not going to be surrounded with serenity, your going to be surrounded by nothingness. No serenity, no rides, no music, nothing! This is your last chance to enjoy the feeling serenity brings so enjoy it. Once you complete the climb its just over. Nothing, kaput, nada. Your life has ended my boy and there’s no turning back, no other worlds, nothing. Everything ceases.” Suddenly those warm comforting eyes seemed cold and dispassionate, “Well then why the fuck are we doing this? Just let me fucking die for Christ’s sake!”
The old dude stood up speaking in an exhausted tone, “Maybe its best if you finish your trek alone. You’re in such a hurry to finish dying just go on ahead by yourself, stick it yourself!” He handed me some kind of cable wire, turned and walked away. Feeling a strange aloneness I began chatting myself up, “Who fucking needs him anyway. Stick it myself? What a dick, doesn’t even speak English right. I’ll stick it myself all right. Maybe I won’t even go up the mountain, maybe I’ll just run down the stream. The fuck with him man, I’m outta here.” I turned and began following the stream towards the bottom of the mountain. “Fuck Dee Bays, I’m going where I wanna go dead or not! Stick it myself?! I‘ll stick it where the fucking sun don‘t shine baby. One last ride downstream, to hell with Interface Mountain.”
TBC

The Devine Tragedy, Episode II

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river

Go To Hell
J.T. Hilltop

Real horrors? Is he telling me this is the bright side of town and things get worse from here? Really? There is a hazy stench rising of the ground that’s filled with disease ridden rats and bugs, the walking dead are wandering aimlessly, and I’m negotiating my way ankle deep through a swampy slush of what I can only assume is a mixture of vomit and defecation. I really don’t think I’m gonna enjoy this you’re dead now go to Hell thing very much. I’ve always believed that when I died it would just be over, a big nothing like a never-ending nap or something. Now it seems I’m being taken on a tour of never-ending disgust and pain. Virgil grabbed my hand and led me through the throngs of the lost souls, swatting away all the bugs and kicking the deadly vermin as we walked. “We are about to go through Hells gates to the river Styx where we will take the ferry to the Rings Of Hell Proper and begin our journey. There are nine levels of Hell, each worse than the one before it and as we descend we will either be allowed passage or our journey will end on whichever level we are denied entrance. If we make it to the bottom you will meet your final judgment by Lucifer. It would be best for you to do as little speaking as possible, we will encounter many tricksters who will try and use your soul for trading.” I was about to ask him traded for what when we approached the iron gate. In a firm and deliberate voice Virgil bellowed “Aperi portam Hades” and the gate slowly opened inwards. Virgil looked at me with the first glimpse of compassion I’d seen since dying, “its time JT, lets go.”
We entered a sort of vestibule of stones with billows of smoke or something rising from the ground, but it was too dark to see real clear. It was cold and musty smelling of earth or moss. It had the feel of what I imagine a rainforest would be like, cool but humid with an omnipresent sense of danger. I didn’t see any snakes but I could hear hissing and sense their slithering movement. They paid little or no attention to us but my fear trembles assured me something was out there and I was aware of every movement . We walked for five minutes until we reached a riverbank. “We wait here for the ferryman then we will cross to the first circle. That’s when your final journey will truly begin.” I took Virgil’s advice and said nothing. After ten minutes of hearing or imagining spooky noises while trembling from the slithering of unseen snakes a boat arrived.
Standing on the boat with a long stick in his hand was a huge figure, all of ten foot tall. He had powerful muscular legs, and an upper body that made Hulk Hogan look like a wimp. Even his head was huge, but it wasn’t exactly human. The skull was the size of a beach ball with long pointed ears, as long as a rabbits but the look of a mythical elf, and enormous bulging red eyes. He looked to Virgil and with a mocking arrogant tone stated, “The dead one can come along but you must remain here, at least until you die.” His voice was deep and raspy, laced with sarcastic anger, “Choron, I am this dead ones guide, I must take him across to his judgment. As the prince states, ‘So it is wanted where the power lies’, I am on divine mission. Take this obolus as payment for your trouble.” Virgil handed the ferryman a coin and with a shrug of his shoulders he motioned for us both to get in, “Sit there amongst the blasphemes and keep your peace. Only a lunatic would cross this river without being dead.” Virgil sat next to me and whispered, “Say nothing, don’t be alarmed, its not the most pleasant ride but it‘s quick.”
Not the most pleasant ride? I’m dead, just trudged through a marsh of grossness with bugs and snakes everywhere and he’s warning me about the unpleasantness of a boat ride. The irony caused me to smile until the rocking began. Did I say rocking? The boat was going up and down and sideways at such a vigorous rough pace that nearly everyone in the boat tossed their cookies. The bottom of the boat filled up quickly with vomit as it got unbearably hot causing me to sweat profusely. The stench coming from off the water was beyond repugnant. Willows of decayed manure and stale urine sprayed up off the water and settled in on my head slowly trickling down my face. The smell was not just vile, it was thick, filling my nostrils with a smoke like substance that reeked of rotted old fish wrapped in decayed cabbage leaves. The air was literally thick of sweat, flatulence, and vomit and just as quickly as it got unbearably hot it turned to a freezing cold solidifying the sweat and whatever remnants of vile liquids covered my body. I gagged for two minutes before passing out completely.
I came to for the third time since dying laying on the opposite side of the River Styx. “What the Hell is going on here Virgil, you tell me I’m dead yet three time now I have passed out. Be honest man, is this a bad dream or a bad reaction to drugs?” Virgil stared at me like I was an idiot, “Passed out? Is that what you think is happening to you? My son each time you pass out as you say is another death, and each time you die on this voyage you come closer to your final death, the death that will be your final judgment. The fact you have gotten this far is amazing given your past. You must negotiate your way to Satan’s pit getting past him if you want to escape everlasting pain, torture, and ultimate discomfort. Now when we get to Limbo you will meet Minos who will tell you which levels of Hell Proper you’ll be allowed passage. If we survive all the rings and reach the pit we may be able to climb the mountain of salvation. Its conceivable you may very well earn entry into Paradiso, which believe me is far better than any of the alternatives here. But don’t get yourself too excited, very few ever get that far. I can tell you this my boy, you will not awaken any more times, the next death you enter will bring you to your eternal destiny. You must use all your wiles and skills if you have any hopes escape the horrors of Hell. Be prepared JT, there will be tricksters around every corner attempting to use you to gain their own freedom.” For a moment I honestly thought it was my own father speaking to me, giving me the advice in my death he was never able to in life. Use my skills, he said. What skills? I’m a gifted chef and story teller, I’ve gained some street smarts, but that’s about it. What kind of food do demons like? I began to worry for the first time since I died.
“I’m just curious Virgil, why are you taking this voyage with me? I mean what’s in it for you?” Virgil handed me some bread an a cup of honey flavored liquid, “This will give you sustenance, finish it all. I was assigned to you an have no idea why. Normally I am assigned to poets of grand scale. Perhaps it’s a mix up or perhaps you‘ve been chosen to tell of the story to reach the people of your era. You are living in a complicate epoch in a world that seems bent on self destruction. Maybe he has chosen an average story teller such as yourself to bring the message.” I pondered his words, “What o you mean average story teller? I’m just kidding Virgil, I understand what you’re saying, who were some of your other assignments?” Virgil was smiling now, I won him over, “I knew you were kidding JT, you forget I know everything. I have traveled with many great poets, authors, an artists. I’ve been at this a long time. No more talk, eat an gain strength, you will most certainly need it for the trials ahead.” I ate and drank in silence preparing myself for what lay ahead.
Virgil started walking down a path that descended towards a cave. I stood up following behind him as we entered the mouth of the cave. “This is Limbo JT, the first ring of Hell. It’s not really even part of Hell, its kin of a waiting room. The cave is filled with non Christians, the anabaptized, the moral less souls. They do nothing but are tortured by their own minds, having eternal insomnia with nothing to divert their minds. But believe me, that’s the easiest torturing of all Hell. It’s here in Limbo that the dead are given the levels of Hell that they shall either suffer in or pass through. The Assigners name is Minos, who will be your first test. If you impress him with your virtues and good deeds he may assign you to only one or two levels, and perhaps not anything too horrible. Anger him and he will send you to the depths of disgust and despair. Be on your toes son.” I took a long deep breath, “I’m ready, I will put my best foot forward.” With that we entered into vast open cavern.
It became clear enough to see everything in the cave, and the most striking thing was a giant of a man sitting perched upon a large flat boulder about ten feet above the ground. The man was about twelve foot tall wearing nothing but a dirty tattered cloth wrap which allowed his huge muscular frame to stand out. Long brownish hair in tight curls cascaded across his shoulders down to his chest. He donned a crown of thorns that seemed to mock Jesus. Time to work my charm, “Good afternoon Minos, my name is Justin, I was just telling Virgil here…” In a booming thunderous voice he cut me off, “I know exactly who you are you ignorant piece of shit. You dare to approach me calling me as a friend? You have always been a self centered sneaky conniving little shit too often drunk or stoned to have completed anything worthwhile in life. You are nothing but a fraud, a liar, a cheat, and a blaspheme. You deserve severe punishment you syphilis of a human being. You deny God so you shall spend your eternity with the other Atheist wastes in ring seven, the ring of violence. Have fun getting there JT, I’ll have fun watching you struggle you worthless shithole.” I began to protest but before I could even get a word out Virgil had grabbed me by my shoulder and firmly pulled me away, “Do you not know when to shut up JT? Take your assignment and get out before you get an even worse level.” I thought about what Virgil was saying. Worse? I don’t like the sound of that!

Juice Box Hero (by Not From Around Here)

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Juicebox_Hero_by_vagabondx

Standing in the rain, with his head hung low
Couldn’t have a Capri Sun, his Mom said no!
Heard the roar of the toddlers, he could picture a scene
Bit the day care worker on the leg, they all heard her scream

He grabbed one juice box, tore the straw away
Shot some juice in his eye, so the very next day
Took a six pack Juicy Juice, behind Moms refrigerator door
Didn’t know how to open it, but he knew for sure
That the one juice box, felt so good in his hands
Didn’t take to long, for him to understand

Just one juke box, straw way down low
Be the hit of the daycare, only one way to go
So he started sipping
Ain’t never gonna stop
Gotta keep on sipping
Before the juice spills out the top
An be a Juice Box hero, Hi C in his eyes
He’s a juice box hero, heard the other kids cries
Yea juice box hero, Apple and Eve in his eyes
With that one juice box, he came alive
Come alive today
So he’s gotta keep sipping
He just can’t stop
Pass another Capri
That boy has got to stay on top

And be the juice box hero
With juice in his eyes
He’s a juice box hero
At nap time he cries
Gimme one juice box
don’t gimme no lies
Just one juice box
Now he’s a juice box hero
Yea a juice box hero
Stars in his eyes
JUICE BOX!

The Seven Habits Of Highly Caffenaited People

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Independence, your freedom to have coffee
Habit 1. Be proactive. Don’t stop at one cup in the morning, go for broke and have three or four, if you’re extra tired, add a shot of espresso to each cup. Move your hands constantly, talk like an Italian hand-speak master, this way no one will notice how much your hands are shaking from all the caffeine.

Habit 2. Begin with the end in mind. Establish your daily coffee needs with wherever you get your coffee. If its with a barista be sure the coffee artist understands not only how quickly you need to caffeinate, but exactly how you like to arrive at ultimate caffeination. You have achieved caffeine nirvana once the barista makes your coffee just before you’ve even arrived. If you start at home, have the coffee maker ready before going to sleep. Set the alarm if it has one.

Habit 3. Put first things first. Be sure everyone near you in the AM understands how important it is for them the STFU before you have had a minimum of one coffee. Once trained good family members will rush a coffee to you as soon as you wake up.

Interdependence, your journey to work

Habit 4. Think win/win. You know you need to be properly caffeinated prior to arriving at work to keep you from murdering your co-workers, so plan your trip wisely. While driving choose a lane with the least amount of traffic to lower the stress of the assholes on the road that have no idea how to drive. Never place the coffee between your legs, at best everyone will think you peed your pants and at worst you’ll have extreme genital discomfort.

Habit 5. Seek first to understand, then to be understood. The first part is easy, listen to what your co-worker needs are and understand that they have just as many rights as you. The second part is tricky and best practiced after a few coffees. Get your co-workers to understand you don’t give a shit about their fucking needs you only care about having another coffee. Be sure they understand to NEVER, under any circumstances have the last coffee without immediately brewing another pot. This will make things at work much clearer and understandable.

Habit 6. Synergize, create a co-operative atmosphere. Now that your co-workers understand how to best deal with a highly caffeinated person such as yourself use some guilt tactics to have them buy the type of coffee you enjoy most. Also establish the fact that anyone drinking decaf has no rights and should be forced to drink it outside in shame with the smokers.

Continuous Improvements

Habit 7. Sharpen the saw. This is important. Literally sharpen the saw and be sure all your co-workers know that you are not only capable of using the saw, but you can handle it efficiently and accurately. This will help to balance your resources.

The Devine Tragedy

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By J. T. Hilltop

This is my homage to one of the greatest poets and creative minds that has ever existed, Dante Alighieri. Its not meant to mock his incredible work but rather celebrate it in my own dark way taking my own creative liberties. I don’t profess to have an iota of Dante’s talent but the best way to honor an artist is to allow their inspiration to flow through your own soul, which is what I hope I did .

Part 1 (The Inferno)
Out Of The Frying Pan Into The Fire
One more for the road. Unfortunately for me that was my mantra, my raison d’etre. My mission statement was to always have one more to bring me closer to total oblivion. One more toke, one more beer, another shot another pill another tab, everything to excess. Maybe it was a design of mine to dull my mind and make my life seem more livable, or maybe I just couldn’t say no, but no matter, over indulging and sinning have always been concentric to my world. I enjoyed living on the edge, and I took Mr. Joel’s advice to heart, I laughed with the sinners instead of crying with the saints. But I am a storyteller and ever aware that every story has an end. Dying is something we all do, both sinner and saint, so I guess that’s why this ex sinner is here now, to relay my story of the afterlife according to JT, as interpreted by the poems of Dante Alighieri. Truth is I didn’t even realize I was dead at first, I thought I had passed out from my many over-indulgences on that night. I mean I truly believed I was only halfway along life’s path when I had woken from a stoned and drunken stupor in the dark wood. I mean really, a lion, leopard, and wolf in Crab Hollow? Please. However, when the three beasts began howling, growling and coming for me like I was an all you can eat buffet I decided they were not delirium tremors or hallucinations but something I better run like the wind to escape.
Shaking off a hangover is not an easy task it normally involves some coffee, a water splashing, and a few aspirin just to start but I had to make do with a quick self slap, intense head shake back an fourth and feets don’t fail me now attitude. I ran deeper into the wood with three mean ugly beasts hot on my trail.To the best of my recollection there was a charging hungry lion, a mouth licking fast leopard, an a bug eyed howling wolf with sharks teeth. They were coming fast si I had to act quickly. I needed to choose which path to take, hope that my choice was one of the paths would lead to salvation. But I was never known for my smart choices so its no surprise the path I took was not the straight way, but rather the twisted path along which the sun becomes silent. With each rapid lurch forward my lungs pounded and burned in shorter and shorter spurts. The muscles in my legs protested to the extreme work out and threatened to form a sit in but my mind overruled their objection so the running continued driven by primal fear. The path was littered with obstacles, logs, small boulders, and thickets but I negotiated them with the grace of a wildebeest. When my foot hit an unseen tequila bottle the pain shot up my shin, cracked my knee joint, making my entire lower right side numb. I remembered back to all the nature shows I’d ever seen realizing the wildebeest, graceful though it is, never fare very well but was more often the fodder of every predatory animal around. What else is gnu? At any rate it seemed appropriate that it would be a tequila bottle that ended my last hope of escape. I normally took things with a grain of salt an tequila was no exception. A kind of Karmic retribution. As I crashed to the ground my shoulder bravely led the foray into the next wave of pain that would likely precede the final pain of being torn to shreds by a trio of very strong jaws fitted with sturdy and sharp incisors. Mercifully the smashing of my cranium into a large stone put my lights out just as the hot anxious breath of the three beasts sprayed a layer of soft anticipatory saliva across my body.
To say I was confused when I woke up a second time is an understatement. I was downright flabbergasted. Did I die twice? Am I hallucinating about a hallucination? And the most perplexing question I pondered out loud, “Where the hell am I?” Believing I had asked myself a rhetorical question I was taken aback when a reply came, “No, you’re not in Hell yet JT.” I squeezed my temples together expecting some clarity to pop out but it was an unsuccessful attempt at sorting things out. Before answering this foreign voice I needed to apprise my situation by rubbing my eyes and taking a big long breath. Well the fact that I was able to take that breath was encouraging, but the voice was still a bit perplexing. I looked in the direction of the diction and sitting cross legged by a small fire was a skinny Buddha or something. At second glance he looked more like a short thin Roman wearing traditional robes if one is headed out to the local Roman bathhouse or perhaps a geeks orgy. “How do you know who I am, and who are you?” He sneered at me condescendingly, “I know who you are because I’m your guide. My name is Publius Vergilious Maro, but you can call me Virgil. I’m here to lead through the paths of death and salvation, and trust me JT, I didn’t ask for you. Your history seems somewhat self indulgent and self destructive if you ask me and I believe my time would be better spent with a plethora of other dead people.” His biting remarks were overshadowed only by the fact he called me a dead people. “Wait, what? I- I’m dead? So what are you saying Virgil, you’re my hell master? Damn man, do I need a safe word or something” I was sorry I had placed such a sarcastic inflection on his name the moment it slipped past my vocal chords. “Look JT, you showed little regard for life while you were living so don’t act so surprised to find out no one cares you’re dead. Deal with it. I could have left you with the three beasts to get chewed to death but I didn’t, I literally snatched you from the jaws of massive pain to take you through to the next stage. We have a lot to see so I suggest we get started. First things first, we will begin at the gates of Hell.”
A lot for me to digest. This Virgil dude said we were going to the gates of hell and I’m a bit concerned that’s where I’ll be left. Is that what he meant by the next stage? Am I doomed to spend all eternity with a major sunburn up to my ears in a world of defecation and rotting meat? I made the decision at that moment that hallucination or not I will apologize to Virgil and be cool with him from here on in. If there’s any possibility I can skate past Hell that’s the way to do it. But to skate, Hell will have to freeze over. “Hey Virgil, I’m sorry man, I’m a bit confused. Its not everyday you die and its taking me a while to shake off all this crazy stuff happening to me. You lead and I’ll follow, just try to keep me in the loop, okay?” Virgil smiled as though he had won some rappers beef battle or something, “No worries JT, in fact once we enter the gates there are nine loops I’ll keep you in.” His smirk left me uneasy.
I followed this scrawny Roman cynic along a dark twisted path deeper in the wood until we reached a clearing, the path leading to a huge mountain with ebony black smoke flowing out the top and fire red lava-like ooze dripping out like hot strawberry sauce cascading down a vanilla ice cream mountain. It caused my stomach to growl with envious hunger pains until I saw what was at the end of our path. A huge cave with heavy ornate wrought iron gates straight out of Transylvania. An emo’s dream come true, there were little sculpted ogres and gargoyles across both doors with hideously adorned door handles. Etchings of death heads, skeletons, monsters of all types were literally everywhere I looked on the gates. Just inside the gate was a huge statue of a three headed half man half goat kind of creature with blood dripping from all three mouths. I shivered at the sight. The stench coming from the mouth of the cave was of rotted flesh and spoiled milk. There was a pulsing dull red glow surrounding the doors. Above the doors was a plaque held by the ugliest monster any child could have imagined from under their bed. The plaque read “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi Ch’intrate” I looked to Virgil, “What’s that say, lactate on sperm you chinstrap? Is that some kind of weird Satan punishment or something?” Virgil showed his first sign of accepting me as he chuckled lightly, “No JT, that’s not what it says. You need to start taking this more serious son, the plaque reads “Abandon all hope, Ye who enter here”. This my boy is the gates of Hell where we are about to begin our voyage. Look around the outside here, see all those people?” I looked around, everywhere around the cave were people wandering aimlessly, swatting at the air and wincing in pain. They all looked confused and purposeless, with vacant eyes. Some had their heads on backwards unable to see where they were going, other had their eyes plucked clean out of their heads, an many were carrying their tongues in the hands in front of them. All of them looked lost and hideous, “Who are they, the ones that abandoned all hope?” Virgil wasn’t smiling now, he was very serious, “No JT, those are the ones stuck neither in heaven or hell. They are the souls of those who chose to do nothing when they were faced with a moral crisis, ones who could have made a difference but chose not to lift a finger, or say a word. Rumor has it that Pontius Pilate is among those souls as well as those who did not fight on the side of the angels during the Rebellion Of Angels Conflict. These souls turned their backs when asked for assistance, or guidance. Pontius could very well have kept Jesus away from Caesar but disregarded the dream sent to him into damnation from the Romans. He and all the others are assigned the punishment of an endless quest to find and save their souls, while constantly being stung by wasps an hornets. Maggots, ticks and mosquitoes eternally suck the blood and tears of their consciences. They gaze upon their faces all swollen and welt ridden to constantly remind them of the repugnance of their actions, or inactions. And these guys aren’t even in Hell, this is merely the outskirts of Hell my boy. You and I are about to descend down the nine levels of Hell. That’s where the real horrors exist.” TBC

Ode To The Alone Star State

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I forgot about the Alamo and I feel like shit
Bought some yellow roses to make up for it
Gimme some bluebonnet and sage brush too
When Y’all in Texas that’s just what you do

Thars a twelve year old bride not wearing white
The baby bump on her belly there is quite a sight
Thars a racist cowboy wearing snakeskin boots
Plus a ten gallon hat and a gun that shoots

Seems they carry guns bout wherever they go
So they can shoot a possum if it move too slow
Or maybe they bargain hunting with some live ammo
Guess that’s why tourist seasons so gol damn slow

Mmmm possum on the half shell sure sounds good
Cook the dead armadillo thar under the hood
So friggen hot the eggs they cook in the road
Add a bit of road kill n Yawl hit the mother lode

They leaves y’all a light on thar at motel six
They give ya clean sheets but got to shake it free of ticks
Went to the manager said “I got a leak in the sink”
He says “ Pee where you want son” n gave me a wink

The Texas cockroach bout a big as a kitten
Free dinner each night hope yawl like chitlin
Each room has a couch that was a cars backseat
The only television what works is in the bridal suite

Staying with a friend down at the trailer park
We sat down for a beer when he made this remark
“I think yawl aught a give me a round of applause
I married three times still got the same in-laws”

Waco -The Tower Sniper -The lone Star State
I best be leaving Galveston afore it get too late
Looking over all the pick-ups with a rifle rack
Be a hundred fifty years if even come back
Short sighted narrow minded Texarkana dream
NASCAR Monster trucks wrestling is supreme
My way or highway politics getting in the way
Of moving Texas forward much to our dismay

The try em and fry em state now uses noxious gas
The LGBT community call y’all the Big Tex-ass
If yer goal is fer you to separate I hope you will succeed
All that’s got to happen now is for alla yawl to secede

No hard feelings Texas, but seriously, lighten up a bit yawl, take yer shoes off and stay awhile. Love on another, even the ones that ain’t jus like you….Peace out Y’all

Father and Son

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I’ve been called many things over the years, most of which were not meant to be complimentary, but when your own kids give you a nickname it most likely has meaning behind it. Now my son has had numerous names for me, again most not meant to be complimentary or to may face, but the one truly endearing name he called me was “My old man hippie Dad.” My boy was a typical son, lazy and rebellious, and I can’t say he never lifted a finger to help but in truth I wish it had been more than the middle one. And I had some rather uncomplimentary names for him as well, but the hippie dad was always said with love. He is very creative and a few days ago he upgraded my paternal status to “My Anti-Corporate Hippie Dad”. Now I’m not one for titles per say, but I must admit this one has a familiar ring to it. In fact it is the complete opposite of what my own Dad would have been, a big business company man. My Pops was an ultra-conservative father who believed big business was responsible for the great American dream and he toiled at his company until he retired.
Many times we become the opposite of our parents and I am definitely in that category. It started out as a rebellious stand but became my persona, my essence. I first grew my hair and donned bell bottoms and balloon sleeve shirts to piss him off but it rapidly became my lifestyle. This is mostly because all the politics and ideals my old man had were way too conservative and far too head up the ass-ish for me to latch on to. You know, the typical 50‘s mentality, the man is the head of his castle and the woman cooks, cleans, and tends to her “duties“. Now normally that would suggest sex, but I have four brothers and one sister so by my calculations my parents only had sex six times so my Moms duties were surely something other than sex. Otherwise, ewwww!! Anyway, acutely aware of what narrow mined principle I was raised on I attempted to instill in my son what I believe to be a fair, sensible and inclusive set of values to live by. I tried but my son ha some good rebel genes in him as well. I still remember the day I knew all my planting of peace love and understanding seeds would be in vain. My son, who once offered me rays of hope by rebelling with Mohawk hair dyed a fuchsia pink, wearing Anarchy tee shirts, and piercing places in his body I would never have considered came home one day wearing penny loafers.
“What the hell are those and where did you get them? What happened to your army boots and Converse?” My boy looked at me defiantly, “I’m getting an office job, I want to work in corporate.” He may just as well have ripped the heart out of my chest and kicked it like a hacky sack. My son wants to be a business man. Worse, he wants to be a big man in a corporate position. Where did I go wrong? I had attempted to give him the benefit of years of my own rebellions. I took him to his first rock concert when he was an eight year old playing Kriss Kross on his Walkman. We went to Giant stadium to see Faith No More, Guns and Roses, and Mettalica and it rocked his world. The change was instantaneous an I knew he was on the road to being cool. It worked out so well in fact we went to lots more shows together, lollapalooza, warped tour, all the time with his hair changing from pink, to green, to orange. I helped him put a ton of gel in his hair so he could have spikes. I pushed him into his first mosh pit, was with him for his first time crowd-surf during a Rancid show, and watched him thrown off the stage during The Ramones. It was a unique an enlightening father an son bond. I did everything I could to encourage him to embrace the idiosyncrasies of his generation the way I had mine. Except without a fight. My father and I came close to fist fights over my hair, my clothes, and my music and here this young lad is encouraged by his father. I just assumed with such a close relationship that we would have similar values. And what o I get in return? A son wearing penny loafers, wanting a three piece suit, and neatly trimmed hair. Was it just to piss me off? My father giving me Karmic retribution? Even worse, I never in my wildest imagination ever believed my own son would become a republican. I feel like I have failed as a father.
Okay, maybe I’m being a bit harsh on myself, in truth he has a very strong value system, he is very respectful of women, of minorities, and of people in general. He is a good man, a son any father can be super proud of. A fantastic father to his own children, a loving and supportive husband, and he calls up his old man a few times a week just to chat. We have a treasure chest of awesome memories that can keep us laughing all night, have similar tastes in food and drink, and in reality are very similar each other. Except when it comes to style and politics. Politics placed a huge wedge between my father and I so I was a bit concerned that it could effect my relationship with my son. But blood and love is so much thicker than political water and we found a mutual respect for each others opinion and don’t focus on the differences. I never wanted my son to follow in y footsteps because being a chef in reality is nothing like is seems watching Top chef. It’s a grueling non forgiving industry in which the small reward is knowing you have gone down a path not many can master. You really need to have your heart in it because restaurant life can strip[ you of your heart. I wanted my son to forge his own footsteps and he has, but not completely. After taking him under my wing and working him down to the ass bone he told me in no uncertain terms that he did not want to be a chef. I was relieved, we opened a bottle of wine to seal his promise. He went to college but to my dismay his training with me moved him up in the ranks at his part time job at Cheesecake factory. He used that to his advantage climbing not to the upper echelon of culinary commander but to the managerial hierarchy of the restaurant industry. He is now a general manager of a very prestigious restaurant and very happy. But he’s still republican!
The bottom line is we all have to be true to ourselves, to who we truly are and both my son and I have done that. He is a bit of a metro-sexual, having his hair and nails done, he dresses conservatively, has no more ear, nose or the piercing formally known as Prince rings (although on windy days he still whistles) but he is who he is and I respect that. We’ve always had strange names for each other, he was GI Joke, Schmedly, puke of Earl, I was the ol man who lives upstairs, Happy Hippie Dad, the parental units unit, and grounding master. But I’m proud that he’s my son, I’m proud that he has worked to achieve what he wanted, and I’m proud of who he is as a person. I’m also proud to have him call me Dad, but more than anything I now beam with pride when he calls me, “My Anti-Corporate Hippie Dad”

Ode To Australia

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At’s one beaut of a vegemite sandwich
Said the smiling man from down under
Never toss an insult to the men at work
Dissing Oz would be a right drongo blunder

We got some onions bloomin in the outback
The barbies ready for a few more shrimps
Ats naught a noife mate iss is a noife
Australia ain’t no bloody place for no wimps

Threw me boomerang hard about a week ago
Think I saw the bloody thing just last night
With me Sheila on my arm and Joey in the yard
Chinwag bout either and you’ll end up in a fight

Because all of us Aussies we are Foster kids
That’s just the way that we like to guzzle beer
We value our bronzer mates and we give a fair go
Australian’s ain’t nothing if not humble and sincere

Me rellies got kangaroos loose in the top paddock
While me Koala she chews on a eucalyptus leaf
Maybe it was a Dingo what took your baby
Maybe she’s swimming in the Great Coral Reef

Chillin on Sydney Harbor at the opera house
Or in Tasmania for the devils crazy thunder
Just beware of the stinging of the jelly fish
In the marvelous myteries of Down Under

No worries mates, we love you heaps Australia, you’re a bunch of fair dinkins Aussies