Transcendental Medication (Exploring philosophy through drug enhanced acupuncture)

garden

Previously on TM
A tear trickled down my cheek, a tear of pure joy. Ambrosina was here! I turned to absorb her soul swearing I would not let this be our last time. I don’t care what Kha, Shea, or anyone says, Ambrosina is not leaving me this time. There she stood, arms stretched out waiting for me.
Episode 8
The Garden Of Truth

We embraced so tight, neither of us wanting to let go, my body was shaking. “Ambrosina, tell me this is all real, it has to be.” I was burning with desire for her, but this time it was emotional desire. Don’t get me wrong, I also wanted to make love with her, like forever, but I wanted her to fill me, to fill my soul with her sweetness. “Lets not talk about that now JT, come take a walk with me.” I let her free from my bear hug and we held hands as we strolled along the garden path. “Where are we going?” Ambrosina seemed conflicted, both happy and sad. She lightly squeezed my hand, “This way baby, I have something to show you, just follow me along the stream.” We walked along a running stream filled with large rocks, I could hear the sound of water crashing down on the rocks up in the distance, “Are we going to a waterfall?” She looked at me smiling, the most beautiful smile ever, eyes sparkling and full of love, “Just come with me JT, don’t ask so many questions. I’ll take you where you need to go.” I silently obeyed walking along this utopian path upstream simply overjoyed to be with her, not caring anymore where we go as long a we’re together. A strange thought hit me. I almost asked her if she was God right then but thought better of it. We walked along the stream in silence, our souls intertwined.
The pounding of water got louder, Ambrosina let go of my hand. “We have to cross here baby, jump across on the driest rock you can find. When we get to the waterfall you will be almost where you need to be.” She pranced off jumping from rock to rock crossing the stream to the other side so I followed. I hadn’t noticed much because I had been looking at my feet trying to stay on dry rocks when she stopped, “What do you think?” I thought I had seen more beauty on this island than possible until I looked up at the falls. Sheets of crystal clear water rolling off the top of a forty foot mountain, reaching out in a glasslike cascade into the stream. Sunlight beamed down off the arc of clear water and shot out in shards of energy. The water bounced of the pool on the bottom of the stream and spread cool mists of fresh water vapor over us. I couldn’t speak. “There is a special place at the top of the falls I want to take you. From there we will be able to see everything. Everything the Garden has to offer, including truth.” I had no clue what she meant but I followed as she climbed up towards the top, using the greenery as a stepping ladder.
We climbed without words, our labored breathing getting shorter with each advance. Twenty minutes of hiking through natural splendor, being refreshed by mists of water, listening to its pure force crackling through the air. The natural wonder was putting on an audio and visual spectacular just for us. At the very top the view offered a completely different perspective. We were on top of the world, nothing but beauty below us. Ambrosina pointed to an alcove off to the right as she stepped in the water towards it. She waded waist deep in the water heading near the falls which worried me. Was she thinking I might like diving down the water? I hope not, I’m definitely not ready for that, but she stopped right at the edge. Carved into the rock was a perfect tub, the water rushing around it and the tub filled with warm still water. Ambrosina removed her clothing waiting for me to do the same. She held out her hand so I joined her, both of us naked in a natural hot tub looking over a waterfall into utopia. “Isn’t it beautiful JT? We can see the world from here.” And we could, the sky was vast and tangible, a deep cobalt sheet of pure air painted with clouds. The clouds were a vibrant white in perfect positioning, huge billows of cotton animal shapes with stretches of fibers stretching across the horizon. We sat together in the warm water up to our chests and attempted to take it all in. My island now seemed so much bigger, full of life. “Ambrosina, this I the most remarkable place in the world. Do I have to leave here? Can’t we stay like this forever, this moment frozen in time?” She placed her head on my chest circling her arms around my waist. I wrapped both arms around her willing to protect her from anything, not wanting to let go. “I’m sorry JT, but once we’re done here you must go back. But you will have this moment and all of our moments together in your heart forever, the memory is real. And you will find another one to share this feeling with.” I felt blood leaving my face, “I don’t want anyone else Ambrosina, I want you. I love you!” I held her tighter to my body, “What is love my sweet? Have you learned from me what true love is? We had lust filled sex pledging ourselves to each other. Is that what love is?”
I knew what she wanted to hear but I was afraid if I told her I knew now what true love is her time with me would be done. But I did love her, so I couldn’t lie to her, I have learned that that’s part of what love is, trust and honesty. “No, that’s not love completely but it is part of what love is. Love is total surrender and total commitment. When you dominated me I surrendered myself to you sexually, but also emotionally. It wasn’t an unpleasant surrender, I wanted to be consumed by you. Yet when I dominated you it was you who surrendered and I enjoyed that more than I thought I would. Not to rule you, but to have you care so deeply for me you were willing to be whatever I needed you to be, as I was for you. Love is a mutual surrender and a mutual acceptance. Not a surrender of defeat but a surrender that gave me strength I didn‘t realize I had. I know sex and love are related but of that I‘m not sure exactly how.”
Ambrosina glided across the a water embracing me warmly. “Sex is a physical feeling , a tangible expression but love is a concept my dear. We have sex in order to alter our biological evolution, to force mutations so we may move forward as a species. We fall in love to stabilize our emotions, which spin out of control with each evolutionary advance because of the mutations, the co-mingling of cultural emotions. Look down at those beautiful flowers, each one is programmed through evolution to have an inviting look and aroma to attract an insect, like a bee. The look and smell of that flower determine if an insect will come courting which is crucial to the existence of them both. Neither the insect nor the flower have a clue of how significant their intense love making dance has been, they only know its enjoyable so they do it. In that respect nature fools them using the enjoyment of sex to increase the number of sexual encounters upping the odds of their progression. Much like us. The more enjoyable sex is the more often we have it, resulting in more children to grow and repeat the process. Without passionate love making we would be emotionally weak and have less opportunities of offspring. It has come to represent an expression of how deeply we are committed to each other, that’s why you burn with desire, not sexual desire but the desire to express your love far beyond words to ensure it stays. Unfortunately love doesn‘t stay all the time, sometimes we progress differently in our emotions and that makes us unhappy.” I ready to ask her the one question I needed an answer to.
“Ambrosina? ….Are you God?” Her smile embraced me, “No JT, no I’m not God, you have yet to speak with her. Think of me as a substitute teacher, I’m here to shine a light so you can see the dark truths better. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this but I’m a manifestation of someone in your time stream, someone in your future. You won’t recognize me at sight, but there will come a time when you will be aware of me but you mustn’t say anything, she won‘t be aware. The time is almost here baby, soon you need go down the mountain to Shea. You still have the four truths and the cosmic truths to learn. I’ve completed what you need to know, you have understood much. It’s not many who have the opportunity to understand love at the quantum level. Come let’s make love to me one last time.”
Without a word we stood up and Ambrosina lead me to a clearing at the top of the falls and we made passionate love, both of us giving and taking throughout. I had never before understood the true meaning of unity in love but Ambrosina and I had become one person, one concept. Love is bliss, a joy expressible in words. I have no idea how long we made love, or how many times, when I’m with her time doesn’t exist. But it does end, and like the previous times it ended with us collapsed tightly in each other arms until we closed our eyes, our bodies, our minds, and slept. The shouting of my name woke me up, the familiar voice of Shea, “JT! Comer on buddy, its time to go.” This time I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t panicked, I was okay with it, with everything. My huge smile and I walked down the mountain oblivious to our surroundings.
“Well someone is sure happy.” Shea was correct, I was happy, I was ready for the next step. “Yes Shea, I am. I understand it now, its not about possession, its about unity, full and true unity. I’m ready now, what’s next? God?” Shea’s eye’s revealed instantly what was next, “I’m afraid this is it for this visit JT. I have to bring you back to Kha. But remember this my boy, we all have the ability to alter our present. Our opening scene and final scene are set, but if you want it badly enough, you can alter the act. Change your plot JT.”
That was the last word spoken on the trip. I was physically and emotionally drained and followed Shea like a sheep as he led me back to my row boat. Once I got in the boat Shea began pushing it out into the river. I took one last look back at my paradise island smiling. I’m really going to miss this place! The boat moved with the current and was picking up speed. Before I knew it I was moving at a very fast rate caught in a rapid. The boat was taking on water and I lost my balance. From the bottom of the boat I could see the water rushing in over me covering me. I feared I was going to drown. Suddenly the boat was lifted up and the water cleared away. It took me a half a minute to realize I wasn’t in a boat at all, but I had been lifted from Kha’s deprivation tank. Oops there goes gravity, back to reality!
TBC

I’m Coming Home I’ve Done My Time

free

“Yo turnkey! Hey oh, today is day 30, I’m supposed to be getting out of here!” My words echoed off the jail cell bars so I tried again. “Hey! I did my time I want to get out of here!” Maybe yelling louder will help. “HELLO!! I WANT TO GO HOME!” But no guards came by and even if they did they would probably just stare at me with utter disgust and distain, the one thing they’re real good at. It was beginning to feel hopeless, like I was destined to be Lifetime TV movie about a young dude who gets locked up in a South Carolina prison for thirty days then ends up doing a life sentence in a prison run inbred cops. The other prisoners, most of which have never even seen me but traded insults with me all the time, had a sudden change of heart and supported my cause. When the cops fuck with one of us they fuck with all of us. Nothing like a little injustice from authorities to break down barriers creating a bond between the oppressed. Someone else started yelling on my behalf, “Yo, let Yankee boy out.” Another voice repeated the phrase and then another. Before long it was an out and out chant of a brotherhood of wrongly ain’t gonna incarcerated inmates enjoying any opportunity to piss of the guards. An ear shattering chorus of “Let the Yankee go!! Let the Yankee go!!” now shook the iron bars.
A loud clanging of a billyclub on prison bars brought a momentary silence, long enough for a guard to raise his voice. “HEY! Alla y’all better shut the hell up right now! I ain’t hearin no shit from y’all today the Braves is playin’. Y’all bess shut up right here and right now! Whicha Y’all started this mess and done ruined my game?” Just my luck, my old pal Billy boy, always ready to rumble with a man in handcuffs and a big fan of kicking Yankee ass. Fuck it come hell or high water I’m getin outta this shithole, “Me, I started it officer Billy. Your favorite long hair Yankee. I done finished my time and I want outta here now!” Billy walked up to do what he does best. He stared me down for a few seconds then spoke in his own special bran of condescend, “Now listen here Yankee boy, if’n its time to kick yaw stinkin’ long haired ass out this jail I be happier an a pig in a New Yoke City shit puddle but I ain’t no judge or no record keeper boy. So you bess shut your mouth now an let me get back at mah game. I’ll check with the warden bout your claim. Tell ya what though, if’n you done ruin my baseball game fir no reason I’m likely ta kick yaw ass sideways to hell boy! So yawl bettern be right son.” His dissertation contained the usual amount of greasy spit that accompanies his attempts at using the English language. I wiped my face, “Listen here turnkey, I beena counting every day here and the judge done give me thirty day and its been thirty day. Great day in the morning how much longer I needa stay here? I wanna git outta here.” Jesus shit, I’m starting to talk like them now!
I stood at the bars waiting patiently for Billy boy to return but he didn’t come back for over an hour. He walked up to me smiling, “Seems ain’t no one here today can look up to check yer story son. Now lookie here boy, heres what we gonna do, yew done gun shut yer trap an get on back to yer little home there and we’ll check it out first thing come morning.” To make sure I understood he put one end of the billy club between the bars pointed at my chest and slammed it right into my diaphragm causing me to gasp. The pain was a not so gentle reminder of how mean an sadistic he could be, especially with people in no position to fight back. He smiled triumphantly, gave me a sarcastic “Y’all have a nice day” and walked away loudly lecturing the lot of us on keeping quiet so he could enjoy the game. The rest of the inmates now stared calling the guards names and offering words of comfort to me. I’d gone from dumb shit dirty Yankee asshole to a prison guard whipping boy martyr and it wasn‘t comforting.
I paced my cell as the time passed slower than any of the past horrible thirty had. Dinner came and then lights out all my protesting in vain. I was here until tomorrow. Our living quarters were six tiny cells with a hallway so we could talk but not see each other. We amused ourselves many a time by “fishing” which was throwing cigarettes, or matches, or a candy bar in the hall and everyone else whipping their bed sheet from the little food hole at the bottom of the cell. The first to snare or fish the prize wins. Most nights I would sing a song by Taj Mahal, and old bluesy number about “I’m going fishin‘, yes I’m going fishin’ and my baby go in fishin’ too” It was stupid but our entertainment was kinda limited and my cell mates thought the song funny. I didn’t fish or sing that night as my mates tried unsuccessfully to cheer me up. They finally tired, offered words of support but I was already falling asleep.
First thing that wakes you up in prison is a breakfast, or a reasonable facsimile of a breakfast passed under the door. I wasted no time in letting the breakfast deliverer know I wanted out but he explained he was just a “trustee” a prisoner who kissed enough guard ass to get special privileges and easy work details. He had a rolled up magazine in one hand and he passed it under with my cold eggs, cold grits, and embarrassed toast “Here Yankee, its an EZ Rider magazine. Its contraband so if you get caught you on your own. Cain’t get ya outta here but leastwise y’all have something to pass the time. Errybody here is pullin fer ya boy, ain’t no one wanna spend no more time here’n they should.” It was small consolation.
When the cells opened into the common area my hopes were renewed. I called to every guard within earshot that I was supposed to get out but they absolutely did not care. This went on for two more days until I finally got a guard to listen in the afternoon. A young Christian man came to my aid in a twist of irony. “Jesus loves you boy. Whats yer name, I’ll check it out fer ya?” I gave him my info and as he walked away I wondered why he took this job. Maybe it was a family thing because he sure didn’t fit the mold of the rest of the turnkeys in jail. No matter, at least someone was listening, maybe my nightmare will end.
About an hour and a half later Jimbo, another law approved sadist came to our block. “Hilltop, Justin! Step forward.” It was here, it was over, I was getting out. Time to pretend to be a rehabilitated member of society. “That’s me officer.” He shot me an angry glare, “I know who you is Yankee boy! Get yer stuff, we gowin see da warden.” What? Warden? Did he say warden? I swallowed hard hoping this was only a formality, it’s not like I have a lot of experience being freed from a jail. I went to my cell, rolled up my excuse for a mattress, and said my good byes to my mates. Oddly bittersweet.
I sat in the wardens office with his secretary, or maybe grandmother, but Warden never showe up. After another 2 hours of processing the old woman finished my paperwork then handed me a big manila envelope. “There y’all go Mr. Hilltop, this is everything you done come in with.“ Inside they had stuffed all my worldly possessions, my wallet, an Oakland Raiders cap, and …..an that’s it? “UM, excuse me maam, where’s the rest of my stuff?” I was missing my sneakers plus about thirty dollars and change. Aunt Bea stared with deadpan eyes, “Cordin tar records Mr. Hilltop, this is allya come in with. Course if y’all like ta stay awhile an tawk at the warden bout it yer more’n welcome.” Sarcasm from Hooterville, the last thing I need. “yea, ah, I get it. How do I get the hell outta here?” Aunt Bea pointed to a hallway, “Ain’t no need fer cussin son, jess foller that hallway to the exit.”
It was seven PM, sun was going down, I was in the middle of Mayberry with no clue which way to go. Where the Hell is the scarecrow when you need to decide this way or that way in a strange world? I opted to go right, figuring it wouldn’t matter because either way there’s nothing but one long ass road anyway. Not even a street sign. Well, hope New York is this way, its away from here anyway. Even with the sun down it was hot. I crossed a small bridge and heard running water. I stopped to collect myself. Its getting dark, I have no idea where I am or which direction I’m heading. I have nowhere to sleep or eat. I am lost in Deliverance, South Carolina looking out over a stream and watching…OMFG.. Alligators! Can it get any worse? On cue, a cop car pulled up.
My mind was racing. Alligators below me, cops coming up to me, and jail not more than an hours walk behind me. Oh well, maybe They’ll put me up another night, better than being eaten by a gator. To my surprise it wasn’t cops, but cop, singular. The bigger surprise is it was the one who helped me get out. “You look lost son, whatch dewin here fer?” Not sure what he wanted, I answered politely, “Truth is officer, I had difficulty getting out and I have no money, no shoes, and I’m not sure if I’m heading in the right direction to get back home to New York. The cop chuckled, but not a mean chuckle, a friendly chuckle. “Well on if ya keep onna headed this away Y’all be in Georgia in bout an hour. But I tell ya what son, you want to git outta Carolina, we sure don’t need no New Yokers here, so Ima give Y’all a ride to the border, to Augusta Georgia an I’ll drop you off at the Salvation Army there. They likely to put y’all up fur the night an you can head on back to New Yoke tomorrow from Georgia, not South Carolina.” I stared at him contemplating the fact I had no other option. “Look son, y’all don’t look like a bad guy, and I’m a man of Jesus. I heard they let ya go late an it ain’t right, so the Christian thing to do is to hep my fellow man. Git on in the car and take my offer.” What could I say. A long way to home, starving and tired, much like the gators, and clean out of options “Yessir.” What new adventures am in store for now? I guess hitch hiking back to the city it is.
TBC

The Dinosaurs Revenge

dino-revenge

The sands of Arabia are the voice of the desert and hold ancient stories of life and love amongst the pebbles of mysterious lands. The mighty Arabian wind picks up fragments of the desert floor and scatters them about to remind the grains of gravel that the songs of the wind are far more powerful than the tales of the sand. The Arabian wind boasts of songs at a time when the desert was merely an ocean floor unable to speak or even hear the songs which were sung in the land of Pangaea when the giant dinosaurs ruled the world. The desert however is unimpressed by such singing for it has mystical tales of hidden treasures, flying carpets, and camels being passed through the eye of a needle. Stories so rich in legend that can be told for a thousand and one nights without repeating a single tale. Being the voice of the desert it speaks directly to the men and women who walk its hot dry paths and explains to them how they should live their lives. That’s power! But the wind speaks only to those who understand the language of the universe and its stories travel far beyond Scheherazade. The wind claims to have been the only entity to have heard the songs and cries of the dinosaur, sad soliloquies of betrayal and deception which ended their world dominion, a song which ends in revenge, for their demise was ushered in to make room for the intelligent future rulers of the earth, humans. Humans who would one day inherit their curse, the curse of fossilized petroleum.
Petroleum responsible for the gallons of blood spilled along the desert carpets in battles to have dominion of the liquid gold, a liquid that would one day be so concentric to human survival millions would die chasing ownership of it. The dinosaurs curse is songs of ships sailing upon mirages and sinking in the sands of time. Men who claimed this cursed oil in the name of their Gods, be it by the scimitar of Mohamed or the sword of Abraham. Death would fell men by the score in an attempt to exchange that blood for oil and the wars would continue to curse humans until they bring about their own mass destruction. Oil, the curse of the dinosaur destroying their eternity.
The dead carcasses of the dinosaurs would ensure the fates of humanity. It was no accident that humans discovered the remains of the giant scaled creatures could be converted into energy that was destiny. Being human accepting it a fate wa not enough, humans had to know everything about the animals. For many years human assumed the dinosaurs to be big dumb clumsy creatures but now scientists and paleontologist believe many dinosaurs to possessed more than a low level of intelligence. Since the resurgence of dino-interest studies have gone much deeper into the social lives of these gargantuan lizards. They have correctly identified the Theropoda bipedal dinosaur to have above average intelligence with the ability to perhaps have evolved human like brains had they not been vanquished. What they haven’t yet discovered is that dinosaurs had a complex system of communication that rivals any human form. They were able to communicate not only with each other, but with the creator of the life on Earth, Gemna. In fact it was Gemna from the planet Lekiel who first planted the message in the DNA strands of all living creatures of the Triassic period. A coded message that has survived billions of years and millions of mutations and still exits in all living things today. Finding and decoding that message may be the only thing that saves us from the Dinosaurs Revenge.

NEXT:
Pangaea, Just Another Day In Paradise

Winter Warning

ima

Squirrels play with their nuts all the time. Not because they can, but because they must. They need to hide their nuts in the winter to keep them warm, and who in their right mind wouldn’t prefer their nuts warm? I know I do. But its hard to keep your nuts warm in winter. When one walks through Manhattan in the winter you can smell nuts roasting out in the open, people sing about roasting nuts on a open fire, but squirrels know the best place for their nuts. Underground. They store their nuts away so they still have them when spring comes back.
On the way in to work this morning I noticed the hometown squirrels being overactive which can mean only one of two things. Either they found a supply of red bull which would explain their activity when crossing the road, running halfway out, changing their squirrel minds before heading back, only to change there minds again and continue heading across the street. Very indecisive. They scramble on the road like that all while tons of metal boxes on wheels come charging directly at them. That’s clearly a reaction from someone over-caffeinated. If they haven’t found a stash of energy drinks then they’re squirrel sense is tingling a warning that this winter is gonna be hella cold with massive snows. Squirrels are not optimists by nature, they generally see the oak tree as half full of nuts but if nothing else they are weather intuitive. So if you see them more active and busy than usual hiding their nuts underground its because they know something we don’t. They know some big snowstorms are coming our way. Squirrels can actually be heard laughing at us on ground hog day because we take the word of Punxsutawney Phil’s predictions about winter. Groundhogs have as much meteorological credibility as our local News agency’s weatherperson. But the squirrel knows and the ones in town are acting crazed so brace yourselves North East, we may be in for something long hard and cold. Protect your nuts..Peace

American Idle

alex

Video Killed The Civil Rights Dream

I was raised to believe that hard work and determination will reward me with success. Bullshit! Those days are long gone, the rules have changed. The workplace isn’t the arena for making big bucks nowadays unless you can wrestle up a sexual harassment suit from HR. Legal manipulation is the easiest path to the top today. Anything but hard work man, that shits for suckers.
Think you got what it takes to make it in music? Don’t bust your ass playing in low income gigs and performing all week long. Get yourself on a competition game show. Can you whistle happy birthday through your nose? Fuck yea baby, that’s good enough to get you on a talent challenge. Fuck the winning prize money what you want is to get noticed. Be an asshole or a bitch and they’ll come looking to sign you up for or a new show. All you need do today is be a character and sell your shitty self absorbed personality. We’ll pay for it because Barnum was wrong, there isn’t a sucker born every minute suckers multiply by the second when they watch reality TV. Just check out the prime time TV listings and choose where you fit in. A backwoods idiot, white trash toddler, a catty rich housewife or mob or rap star wife, bad girl, crazy masochist boy, Jersey Shore loser, the list goes on. Apparently our lives are so boring we’ve become desperate to peek in on the lives of losers who live in constant drama or are such assholes they command our attention.
I don’t know, maybe we just want to know that there are bigger assholes in this world than us. I must admit when I’m driving I’m often guilty of this. If the person in front of me pulls an asshole move I feel compelled to stare inside their car as I pass. Almost as if I need to see exactly what an asshole driver looks like so I can avoid looking like one myself. Or perhaps I need to be able to recognize the facial features of idiot driver o I can avoid them off the road as well.
But whatever it is the American television viewing public seems transfixed on other peoples lives whether its watching them get drunk and act stupid, have a meltdown in public, trash talk their BFF’s, or just be out of place billionaires like the ones that made their fortune making duck calls. I watched that one for five minutes and I’ve had a recurring nightmare of being chased in a swamp by living chia pet people. But that’s what the people want, so that’s what the networks give them
As for me I have more than enough stress and drama in my own life to want to see someone else go through theirs. I‘m much more comfortable with serial killers, crooked cops, and horny doctors and interns. But creative stories with actual professional actors is more costly and a lot more work so the networks are more than happy to bring you bullshit competitions and real life drama they insist are unscripted.
Sit com? Here’s an idea for a new sitcom, a stereotype of an idiot male, a stereotype of a suburban wife, a gay family member, a minority thrown in for laughs, and a precocious little kid. Put them in situations so bizarre it couldn’t happen in anyone lifetime, allow some mispronunciation of words, let the male do something stupid while the female get pissed. In the end the buffoon of a husband can do something that makes everyone go “awwwww” because for a dope its so thoughtful, and you have a sit com. Maybe not original but it works. In comedy these days its one size fits all, no room for intelligent comedies anymore, moronic is what sells.
The funny thing is all the while the same viewers are constantly complaining about how much coverage celebrities get when they fuck up. Look at Lindsay Lohan, more well know from her antics in public than any of her movies. Amanda Bynes, Kardashians, Charlie Sheen, anyone who screws up in real life gets away with all kinds of shit. Whenever they get the coverage people seem outraged that they make news. Hello!! It wouldn’t be news if people didn’t pay attention so stop paying attention.
When I was a kid the TV was called an idiot box, or boob tube because watching for hours drained us of our capacity for critical thinking or cognitive thought. Now the kids that were transfixed by the pixilated screen are the ones creating this boring and irrelevant television. The boob part of boob tube is how much boob showing they can get away with the deterioration of the programming in general is idiotic. I truly hope the up and coming generation can somehow get away from the bullshit that has become modern TV, and pay attention to what the fuck is going on in the world, because its their world. When people talk about my era, the 60’s, it consistent with drugs, and riots, war, and dissonance. What’s forgotten is the cosmic language we all spoke back then, the language of hope. It wasn’t only King who has a dream, we all did, and if anything I seriously hope the young generation watches the stories surrounding the 50th anniversary of the single most important moment in civil rights history and learn…..PEACE

Has Anyone Seen My Tab Of LSD? Dad? OMFG!!

imagesCAN03VWJ

A Trip Around The Yard

Alan was feeling a little bit guilty about violating his son‘s trust. He respected Ian’s right to privacy but his suspicions were so deep he felt he had to infringe. He didn’t want his son smoking that evil devils weed or worse. As a devout Jesuit he was responsible to raise his son to be a follower of The Society of Christ and if he found Ian straying he could use that to send his son into a Jesuit school, maybe even go to Loyola someday. His wife Sadie was catholic and had opted not to upset the forbidden apple cart by converting and as long as Ian was swathed in the blanket of Jesus they could compromise. The compromise was a typical agreement between husband and wife in the 50‘s, Sadie agreed not to cut Alan off forcing Alan to agree to just about anything. In truth that was the single bone of contention between them, Sadie insisted on Ian remaining a “Good catholic” and not a Jesuit so Alan gave in “for now“. That was the one and only time she aired dissidence.
All Alan needed to convince her being a Jesuit would be in Ian’s best interests was to catch him in a sin. He was relatively certain his son was smoking pot and he wanted to find some evidence of wrongdoing that would give him the upper hand and release the vaginal wrench Sadie clenched on his desires. Alan was the man of the house and as such he should in theory have final say in major decisions, but in practice he opted for bedroom bliss over being boss on this one. He looked over his shoulder nervously and began opening the desk drawer as silently as possible. After rifling through the entire desk he was disappointed to not find any evidence but relieved his son seemed to be keeping his head on his shoulders. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular when he placed the life saver in his mouth, it was more of a reflex. He had no way of knowing he had just unwittingly ingested a tasty tab of Orange Sunshine LSD. In fact it would be almost an hour until he even began to feel any effect, much too long of a time lapse to connect the two together even if he had suspected something. The rest of the covert search also turned up nothing so he left his son’s room and went to his secret haven, his escape room to relax before mowing the lawn. He locked the door behind him and sat down in his lounge chair at his sacred sanctuary.
It had always seemed funny to Ian that his Dad spent so much money on a Cadillac but turned the room meant to keep that expensive car into a fortress of escape with no room for the car. A small fridge filled with beers, a lounger, a small TV and radio all surrounded by his tools. But that’s where you could find Alan whenever the stresses of suburban life got to him. He called it his palace. Alan needed to relax because he always stressed out at the thought of performing his most despised suburban chore. Lawn maintenance. People here in Hamilton New Jersey were judged harshly by the state of their lawns. A well kept lawn was the ultimate status in town and would make the homeowner a well respected man about town, but an unkempt lawn was a ticket to the lowest rung of suburban development and a surefire way to have yourself snubbed and ostracized.
But the yard had to be manicured and Alan dutifully mowed and trimmed his sacred acre of green pride with an unusual joviality which at times made him actually laugh to no one in particular. When Alan finished his dreaded chore he smiled having found it mildly amusing and uncharacteristically pleasant. When he performed the finishing touch of edging it was oddly funny for some reason. He had also done some very deep thinking while tackling this normally mundane chore and surprised himself having come up with some new concepts and theories about life. His life to be exact. He put away his lawnmower and edger and then sat back in his recliner to close his eyes and consider the implications of his newly gained perspective. Besides it was a hot one out there today and he was tired so a cold beer and a short nap would fit his bill. As he laid back and relaxed a sense of serenity settled across his body and mind. Alan was meditating without even realizing. After fifteen minutes his cheek muscles began to move involuntarily forcing a rather large smile onto his face. His eyes were closed yet bustling with activity as they entered the rapid eye movement state even though he was far away from sleeping. He found himself inexplicably listening closely to all the sounds around him, the leaves gently tickling the ground a they danced acros the cement floor, the wings of some kind of bug flapping melodically, a cricket scratching a tune on its hind legs. Sounds that were always around but never noticed, at least not is such a grand way. Alan was smiling and humming and the visions in his minds eye were churning up childhood memories. Cartoon characters. He saw Popeye and Olive Oyl, Mighty Mouse, Huckleberry Hound, Top Cat, and many more cherished cartoon characters all involved in some bizarre collective cartoon specifically portrayed for his entertainment. As if he had taken hallucinogens before he rolled with it not for a second letting the images upset or confuse him. He was smiling a huge involuntary smile and he knew it. He felt it! He felt the muscles of his cheeks pulling upwards pressing up against his eye sockets, the corners of his mouth contract inwardly, and his jaw line stretch halfway around his head. He chuckled to himself understanding he was rising to a new conscientiousness.
For quite a while Alan merely sat back and enjoyed his trip as he contemplated his life and what it was all about. His smile began to desert him as he realized what a rut he’d found himself in. “What the hell am I doing? The same thing day in and day out, go to work, come home, have dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. What am I doing this all for?” He continued feeling morose and sorry for himself for living what others had convinced themselves was “The American Dream”. But what the hell kind of dream is this drudgery of existence? Why was he just going through the motions, why wasn’t he an international spy, or an astronaut or something exciting? Anything more exciting than a carbon copy of every other shit middle class robot in town. His mood was taking a dangerous turn from comedy to tragedy in mere seconds.
Alan clasped his head between his hands attempting to squeeze the bad thoughts from his mind. Bugs seemed to be buzzing around e3verywhere but one bug in particular was just outside his ear and singing a song to him. Not a song he recognized, more nonsense singing in a weird bug voice like “eyy ya ya dadada dadeedadee, dadada…..get outta my ear!” Wait, was the bug trying to tell him some profound truth? Could this be where he finds true meaning? Alan contemplated intensely what message this omen bug was showing him when he laughed out loud, “Get out of my ear? Hahaha, did some bug just fly in my ear and say get out of my ear?” He laughed some more, not startled or confused but back in a state of control, of understanding, as though tripping on LSD was his true calling and not some foreign experience impossible to understand. He opened his eyes and continued talking to himself, “Holy shit, I feel so strange. I’m not sure what in the Hell is going on but I think I like it. I feel like I‘m in some bizarre 3D movie or one of those optical illusion pictures” The bug continued to sing the same song over and over in his ear and much to his delight he was neither concerned nor puzzled, he was comfortable with it. Suddenly startled Alan thought he saw movement from the corner of his eye as he jumped up from his chair.
“Is someone here? Come on now I know someone else is here, I can hear you and I know you’re in here. Who is it?” Alan was still chuckling lightly but beginning to feel uneasy. The bug stopped singing and in a much deeper and human voice it said to him, “Its me Alan, Franco. You remember me don‘t you? Saint Francis from the days back at the room. I sure as hell remember you, all of you. You guys all laughed and called me Franco. Then you did those things to me, those horrible things. I can still feel the pain.” Alan sat back down now suddenly frightened and uncertain of what was happening. An old buried memory he was unaware of was being stirred up and settling in his head. He was remembering, the room, the lights, the loud noises, and….and “Franco? This can’t be, it wasn’t real. But maybe it was. Oh my God, I remember now Franco. They told us no one would get hurt, we never meant to”….. A knock on the door sent a shiver of paranoia erasing the memory and replacing it with profound worry. “Dad? Its me, Ian. Can I come in? I think we nee to talk.”

I Really Dig The Big Wheels Can I Take It Out For A Testosterone Drive?

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An Average Joe May Be Above Average
“Check out how much power this bad boy has.” I think that’s what the truck salesman was screaming over the obnoxious babbling engine but it may have been distorted. When the roar took short break I queried, “Do you have anything a little less phallic and a bit more practical?” I was looking to buy a small truck, not make a statement of overcompensation but this salesman was bent on selling this huge truck with huge wheel and a huge roar that screamed ’don’t look at my small bulge but check out this monster extension of my inadequacy.”
OK really, what’s up with that? Are women in general turned on by loud greasy engines? I mean I’m not a ten inch stud or the owner of a powerful crank case of grinding gears but I have sufficient equipment and what’s more important I know how to use that equipment to get the most out of it. I think back on how idiotic our high school days were, and how we believed we could compensate for our awkwardness of dating by playing a guitar, or driving a muscle car, or something else that formulated a false sense of manhood. But I couldn’t carry a note, couldn’t play an instrument, was uninterested in sports, and lacked self confidence. But I did have a job in a restaurant so at least I had some money, plus I was learning to cook.
My ever helpful Mom suggested I take Home Economics where I could hone my culinary attributes. But back then a class in Home Ec only assured a male of a daily ass kicking and constant public humiliation. I gave it two seconds of thought after Mom assured me I would be in a class full of females. But I had done that by taking typing last year without achieving any carnally enhancing benefits. I made many suggestions to the young maidens but the girls were only interested in my carriage release or ribbon spool, not my nimble typing technique. I didn’t become adept at typing or even get a phone number from that class. Although I admit it was my favorite class and being one of only three guys it was uplifting to garner the attention I so craved.
So I didn’t go to Home Ec, but I did continue to learn to cook at the restaurant while the chicks were all dating the guys in rock bands, the guys with GTO’s, or the football team (No, not the whole team pervert). So those artificially enhanced materialistic dudes all fought over the plastic popular chicks while us average Joes dated the average Jill’s, which in the long run was better anyway.
The funny thing about the football stars, muscle heads, hot car owners, and wannabe rock stars is when they got into the thirty something’s that’s all they really had. I on the other hand could cook and when I reached my thirties that was what the ladies found sexy. Keep your monster truck dude, I am serving sautéed Chilean Sea Bass with a Beaujolais saffron sauce, asparagus macadamia, and Pomes Anna with a perfectly chilled Gewürztraminer wine and the ladies who enjoyed that were intelligent, sophisticated, and beautiful with very little interest in the size of my pick up or biceps. So who’s chuckling now?
I had a small studio apartment in New York City near Madison Square Garden and one of the intricacies of my crib, I mean aside from having my bed right there in my kitchen/dining room, was a nice view for people watching. On one particular evening as I was entertaining, my date and I watched as people who had parked their car near by headed out to The Garden to attend a Monster Truck Rally. We watched and it took all my self control not to point at some overweight, sloppy looking thirty something’s on a mission to get inside, and I can’t be 100% sure but I think one dude with a bad haircut and beer belly that would make Buddha cringe was the star quarterback of my high school. Walking alongside him no longer cheering, was his high school sweetheart. I couldn’t help thinking how much they deserved each other both now and back in the day.
I asked the salesman to shut off the engine so he could hear me good when I said no thanks. I decided I didn’t even want the stupid truck at all because it just isn’t me, and being myself was better revenge than I could possibly have planned even if I had wanted to. Now every time I see someone in a pick up with wheels better off on a tractor with spikes on the rims, or a ridiculously oversize Hummer style vehicle, or any other car designed to take attention away from the owners “short comings” and place the focus on their ride I smile and give them the thumbs up, because they need more reassuring than an average Joe like me.

The Garden Of Heathen

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Evolution is the story of how everything came to be what it came to be, like our ability to communicate. From simple grunts, to pictures and words we evolved our communicative skills to near perfection. But the Bible was written in the third century based on tales heard many years before that. What I’m saying here is I can’t take the story literally because communication hadn’t evolved enough back then so the way it was told back in Constantine’s era. I mean shit man it was told by dudes with names like Theodosius, Diocletian, and Ezana so how reliable can it really be? Take Genesis for example, the story of how man and woman became lovers to create life. Or was it the scandalous story of a biracial copulating couple? I mean even Theodosius wasn’t naïve enough to believe that two humans popped up out of nowhere. Well actually one popped up, the other happened to have the perfect receptacle. Adam and Eve weren’t the first man andd woman to enjoy the ins and outs of sex, but they were essential to evolution because they fucked themelves into the most important mutation, the mutilation created from two separate races. So toss out your often told story of The origin of man and let me give you the up to date tale of Adam an Eve.
Just as animals evolved into other animals, so did we evolve from some sort of animal. Simians. Similar in shape to our tree dwelling ancestors we walk upright on two legs and use our hands as tools. So the original peoples of the earth evolved from animals and grew up in tribes. Each tribe or community took care of itself, its only purpose was to reproduce thereby keeping the tribe alive. Survival. That was the key. Most tribes were hunters or scavengers, either killing and eating animals, or scavenging the vegetation already here on earth. However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent, two tribes stood out amongst all others. They had become far more advanced than most other tribes. These two tribes used reason and logic, and figured out a way to survive working together as a colony. One tribe, The Aggies, learned how to manipulate the vegetation and grow it at will using soil, sun and water. With complex systems of irrigation they farmed the land and became prolific growers. The other tribe, The Shepherds, learned how to manipulate the cattle and sheep, and penned them up creating a seemingly endless supply of milks and meats. They used complex systems of herding and became prolific meat manipulators. These two tribes habituated a very large area which was called the Garden of Eden. They didn’t like each other because they were so different, the Aggies out farming in the sun all ay had a darker complexion and more muscular features, and the Shepherds had lighter skin tones and blond hair. In the interests of co-habitating the naturaly rich and fertile Garden of Eden they used their logic and reason to devise boundaries which they agreed not to cross. So the Aggies habitated in the soil rich North section of Eden and the Shepherds the South. Both tribes kept to themselves and existed peacefully until one incident set off a series of events that would forever change the world.
One of the Aggies, a young adventurous male decided to take a walk in the area that was designated as no mans land which neither tribe considered valuable. He came across a small waterhole in which an exotic young woman was bathing. He didn’t recognize her so he knew she must be one of the sneaky Shepherds and when he looked closely at her something seemed to tickle his toggle switch. She looked much like he did only fairer in skin and hair which seemed oddly enticing She had a pale yet smooth almost silken complexion and long colorless long hair bursting with long waving curls. She had eyes of bright turquoise which seemed to sparkle like evening stars. He found her rather attractive stealing a glancas she bathed with water glistening off her exposed white breasts. It made his stomach queasy in a kind of playful way. More than that, there was something downright intriguing about this woman. He spied her with great delight and began to wondering if she was like the women of Aggies in other ways. Okay, let me spell it out for you. He began feel that all too familiar tingling of the loins that cause men to lose control. He began to wonder if she enjoyed the pleasures of sex in the same manner women of his tribe had enjoyed him and envisioned what it would be like to have her in his bed. He imagined making wild unbridled passionate love to her. Considering the times, perhaps it was bridled sex, but whatever, she made him horny as….. For lack of a better term, all Hell. Both his mind and his hanging cha began to swell and he turned away to allow both to subside, promising himself a return visit.
More than jus a visit this young farmer began wandering down to the waterhole every day and watched from the cover of brush as she bathed herself getting more and more horny each day. He stared in awe until one day he needed to till her soil so he got up enough nerve to confront her. “Young maiden of the Shepherds, why do you come here each day an sit naked in this waterhole?” The young maiden pretended to be alarmed even though she had been aware of his hiding and staring since his first visit. Frankly, she was flattered and just as curious as he was. She too had experienced a tingling sensation in her nether regions and every bit as interested in exploring carnal possibilities. “I come here to bath myself land tiller, not to be stared at by some Aggie hiding in the brush. Why do you come here and stare at me?” The young Aggie gave this some thought, because quite frankly he wasn’t sure himself why he was here. “ I come not to stare at you but to explore the area and determine if the land is fit for growing” he lied. The young maiden blushed slightly when she saw the lust in his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure it is the land which explore? It seems to me you are looking at my body and I believe that is not vegetation I see growing under your loincloth” The audacious young maiden gave him a look that offered more a challenge than a venting of distain. She blinked her eyes at him and something strange happened. He felt a Funny feeling in his stomach as though the seeds he used to grow things themselves were festering from within. He boldly chose to accept the challenge. “It is true that have gazed upon you and appreciate the…..unusual beauty you possess. Indeed I was hoping perhaps you were an Aggie and would be my maiden an share my bed with me.” The Aggie could feel his entire body shaking and the young Shepherd maiden did not back away. She moved closer to the Aggie. “I am a Shepherd woman, not a dirt laden Aggie maiden. And you young Aggie, you are filled with dirt from your farming. If I were to ever consider being a maiden to the like of you I would expect you to be clean. Why don’t you come in here and allow me to bathe you?” It was more of an order than an invitation but that was of no consequence because the winds of caution had blown enough of his loincloth away to reveal his desire. He approached the watering hole with a modicum of trepidation and a mountain of spunk. She held out her hand and he accepted and they both shuddered ever so slightly. He dropped his loincloth completely exposing that the fruit underneath it was ripe for the picking. He stepped naked into the waterhole beside her with his rake pointed the direction. For five minutes they stared at each other while cleansing every inch of their bodies. They dedicated special attention to the areas that demanded intense inspection with eyes sparkling of curious wonder. The Aggie closed his eyes and allowed this maiden, this Shepherd woman to slowly and methodically polish his purple headed mushroom stem. “Methinks my Aggie that you have something other than bathing on your mind.” Unable to form an actual word, the Aggie grabbed the maiden in his arms and laid a big fat spit swapping mouth organ exercise regimen on her using his tongue muscle very skillfully. This was something new to the maiden, and at first she wanted to pull back. However, once she realized how good the tongue tango felt, she greedily sucked his tongue into her mouth and allowed the saliva filled dance to continue. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. Sparks flew, fluids oozed, and soft moaning was the only form of communication. Of course the two lovers understood they braved the scorn of their fellow tribe members by allowing their naked bodies to exchange these biological fluids. But it felt so crazy good they did indeed continue to explore each other and exchange passion and bodily fluids. Four times. It wasn’t until after the fourth round of carnal explorations led to exhaustion that they even introduced themselves to each other. “I am called Adam, which means man.” To which the maiden replied, “Indeed Adam, you are quite the man. More so than any Shepherd I have ever known. My name is Eve, which means life.” With a big fat satisfied grin Adam replied, “Life indeed Eve, you have breathed much of it into me unequaled by any other Aggie I have ever known.”
So Adam and Eve began to meet each other every day and made love like a couple of school kids. But all was not so good back at the tribes. The other Aggies were beginning to get suspicious because Adam never ever seemed to be dirty. How could anyone work the soil all day yet remain free of dirt. And back at the Shepherds they began to get suspicious because Eve was always happy, humming songs and whistling show tunes, and showed no interest in even the most handsome of Shepherds.
It would be another ten or so centuries before the world became aware of sex amongst the same gender so Eve’s apparent disinterest in men was incredibly suspicious, and in the Aggie camp Adam was also considered an anomaly. As it happened that the suspicious leaders of each tribe sent someone to follow their respective tribe member delinquents on the very same day. Once at the watering hole, the Aggie spy hid in the north woods, and the Shepherd spy hid in the south woods. At first the spies were appalled and shocked. But Adam and Eve were both so very sexually talented, and each brought such wonderful new tricks specific to their tribe that it became more of a show. The very first live sex show, no tokens needed. It is believed at least one, perhaps even both had become so excited while watching that they pleasured themselves before retuning to the tribe leaders to give the reports.
With soiled loincloths the spies, Cain and Abel, returned to their chiefs. The tribe leaders were livid. Furious! How could this possibly happen? It was the most outrageous act that had ever occurred anywhere in the crescent. A violation of fertilizing a Shepherds love crescent. They both paced, in different colonies yet somehow in unison, until the sinners returned to their folds. The minute Adam returned to the Shepherd village he was grabbed by the biggest and strongest Aggies and brought before the leader. “Adam, I am quite disappointed”, he said, “You have disrespected every member of our tribe by engaging in this disgusting act with a Shepherd woman.” Adam didn’t answer, he just stood there looking sheepish, which for an Aggie was another no no. “You’re despicable act has left me with no other choice. You shall be banned forever from the garden of Eden. Go now, get out and never return. Take your Shepherd slut with you!” Adam sadly walked to his hut to gather his belongings. Inside he saw his best and now only friend. “How did he find out” he asked of this friend. “Well Adam, you were spied on by Cain. He followed you and reported back to the leader.” Adam shook his head and mumbled, “Cain, of course. I should have guessed. That shit spreading scum sucker is gonna pay for this someday.” And with that, Adam left towards the waterhole hoping to see Eve there one last time.
Eve of course had a similar experience, and she too was permanently banned from the Garden of Eden. Eve was certain it was Abel that had spied on her as Abel had always tried putting the moves on her but she forever denied his advances. Reluctantly she too had to leave, and also chose to have one last look around the sexually charged waterhole in hopes that somehow Adam might be there. As luck would have it, which luck often does in fiction, they met at the very same moment and exchanged stories of banishments.
So hand in hand Adam and Eve left, banished from the Garden of Eden forever. Eve had allowed the serpent to penetrate her glory forest and nothing would ever be the same. In shame they walked out of The Garden Of Heathen forever, Eve holding in her free hand the apple Adam had grown for her, and with his free hand Adam held the metaphoric snake, which Eve had skillfully and completely herded.

Lovers gonna love & Haters gonna hate–Savers gonna Save but Liberals liberate

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Those goddamn liberals are gonna ruin our country. What? Wait, let think this through a minute in terms I hope even the oldest whitest 50’s value clinging paranoid can understand. Words. Terrorist, one who inflicts terror, as a means to control. Terrorist would like to ruin the country, that’s clear enough. But how could a liberal ruin a country. Liberals seek to liberate, to create a power balance in which all share equal value and opportunity in a society. Kinda like Jesus did. Jesus was a liberal, at least according to the lame-stream media of his time, The daily scriptures. Was he trying to ruin the Fertile Crescent? In the dictionary liberal is defined as favorable to progress or reform. Favorable, not destructive. Terrorist-terror, Liberal-liberate. Women’s lib didn’t ruin the country it made it better, with many powerful women adding greatly to our society. Liberate the oppressed, that’s basic. Liberals believe in freedom and not just to other liberals but to all. Even conservatives.
Ah yes, conservatives. The very ones who use the word liberal to project an image of peace loving, tree hugging, environment caring, do nothings who would ruin the country by striving for racial equality, gender equality, a clean global eco-system and worst of all, world peace. What does the dictionary say about this odd group of take it or leave it change resisting conservatives? Conservative, disposed to preserving existing conditions or institutions, to limit change. Who would want to limit change? Obviously if one likes the way things are they wouldn’t want anything to change, wouldn’t want to liberate anyone. Not like that long haired liberal from Nazareth, someone different. Oh yea, King Herod. Lets face it, Herry had his choice of women, lived in a huge palace and was surrounded by wealth and power. Who wouldn’t want things to remain the same if that’s how life is for you? Conservatives conserve and that’s what they do. What they are best at conserving is money and power, and they prefer to conserve it all for themselves. They resist change because that would mean others may have equal value or opportunity and well, they want to conserve it all for themselves.
Not too long ago liberal was a derogatory term spat out with distain. Stinking liberals, bleeding heart liberals. In ’73 I had to choose which party to register as in order to vote, which made no sense to me at all. Why does everyone else have to know what party I believe in. But I dutifully followed the rules and marked my self down as a member of the liberal party partially out of spite to my staunch republican Dad and partially out of my own pure rebellious nature. When my conservative father found out we elevated our “disagreements” from my hair length to my disgracing of the family by becoming a liberal. I was warned it would follow me around like bad body odor. I wore that stench proudly in 1973, and I wear it proudly today. Politically I am liberal but I don’t define myself or others through a religious or political microscope because that’s what we believe not what we are. If you’re and atheist or a bible waving Christian that’s fine, but if you’re an asshole its not because of what you believe, but HOW you believe. Don’t force your beliefs on anyone else, enjoy them for yourself, allow other to enjoy their. The same in politics, if you’re a tea bagging homophobe its not because you’re a republican, you’re just an asshole. You can believe in the republican party without discriminating or fearing people unlike yourself. My Dad was staunch republican as I said, but I will credit him with having the sense to breakdown the stereo-types without sacrificing his core beliefs. It took time and a lot of nudging from me but in the end he understood we are not defined by our unconventional appearance, lifestyle, or religious practice. In name we are all human, and if you feel you must judge, judge not by political or religious beliefs, but by deeds and actions. I believe mine are worthy of any religious or political movement, but more importantly could be accepted as beneficial to humanity.

Samsung And Da-liar, episode 4..Rated IA (Immature Adult) Not recommened for ignorant prudes

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just a little off the top please
Da-Liar was at one time a true dominatrix with men she walked around on leashes, drinking vodka from bowls, and very often licking her boots. Samsung was different though, Samsung was the only man who had ever returned sexual pleasure to her without complete direction and much work. It was like he had a magic flute that played beautiful love tunes in her labia. His touch on her skin was so enticing her body fluids boiled over and stained the walls. Now however she was in a difficult position, in a pickle over his pickle. If she extracted the secret of his success he would be taken prisoner by King Davey and she would lose the most ardently skilled lover she had known. She had more orgasms from him in one night then she had previously gotten from anyone in fourscore. Although there was that one time when she was in a va-jay-jay jamboree with Trixie and Crystal, but that was one of her darker secrets. On the other hand, if she doesn’t break her stallion and turn him over she not only loses all the promised bounty but the non trustworthy king would surely take his anger out on her.
The constantly copulating couple had found a bed of bliss in Da-Liars bedroom and if the stained walls could talk they would blush as they described the explicit events which occurred within them. The walls woul be barely able to contain themselves. Samsung was not quite at the boot licking stage but he did feel the grip of the vulva wrench when she tightened her velvet glove on his one eyed monster and could be willing to give away trade secrets in the heat of heated moments. Reluctantly Da-Liar began using her never fail coital confession inducing tricks on the big guy. She spent a lot of time on dressing just right. Jet black strappy pumps with stiletto heels, an excruciatingly tight teddy that revealed every curve and muscle in her body, a heavy dose of eye make up and burning bright red lipstick. Samsungs gonads went ga-ga at the sight of her sexiness.
As if that wasn’t enough, in her hand was a bottle of very expensive champagne an two glasses. She walked up to Samsung gently allowing their groins to touch, peered up at him teasingly and asked him if he would like some champagne in bed. At the height of arousal his hardened giant redwood pointed the way in affirmation.
The moment they arrived at the love cushions she began to polish the purple helmet bringing Samsung to near vein popping ecstasy. “Slow down Da-Liar, I feel like I’m already about to explode.” Knowing she needed to stretch it out she let his muscle rest while she paid attention to other parts of his body. As soon as she had him at the breaking point again the bedroom talk began. “Oh my god Samsung, you are so big and strong, and wow what a lover. How is it you are so much stronger than any other man?” Samsung flipped her over and got ontop of her, “Oh I have been given a special steroid from God himself that gives me my strength.” Wham Bam thank you maam the jack hammering began and Da-Liar had difficulty staying on point. The harder he thrust the more she gave in to him and finally it was she who could take it no longer as she came to a screaming orgasm. Da-Liar collapsed in exhaustion both of their bodies throbbing, heaving, and pulsating. She knew she would have to continue her quest manually.
After regaining the ability to breath normally the two lovers finished the first bottle of champagne, then the next and one more after that. Sufficiently drunk Da-Liar began phase two of her sexual extraction. She skillfully reached down under the sheet and Samsung responded quickly. Not thirty seconds had passed and his soldier was once again at attention awaiting command. Da-Liar positioned herself so they could enjoy mutual exploration and as soon as she felt his pulse raise to the right point, and his breathing to increase to the right speed she made her move. Samsung laid in anticipation as Da-Liar used first her feet and next her hands bringing him once again to the breaking point. “Tell me Honey, someone told me you have another secret about your strength, that there is one way you can lose it. Is that true?” Her fingertips began working overtime and she placed her mouth close enough to his unit that he could feel her warm breath on his muscle sending goosebumps through his loins. Promise her anything but give her……ANYTHING!! Da-Liar kept the teasing to an all time Guinness record until Samsung couldn’t hold out any longer and as she finished him off he blurted out “Its my hair. My Mom said I can never cut my hair or I’ll lose my strengths!” Even though her lips were locked onto his throbbing phallus he still didn’t feel her lips curl up into a giant smile.
Unaware he had been infiltrated during infiltration Samsung returned the favor with an equally skilled hand and mouth combo until the couple once again collapsed wrapped together in a love embrace. When they had recuperated they finished off three more bottles of champagne, laughing, chatting, and what would one day be called drunk texting. They simultaneously either fell asleep or passed out from the excessive amount of alcohol and sex. Hours went by the walls hearing nothing but snoring now and Samsung slept so heavy he didn’t notice Da-Liar getting out of bed. It would be anther two hours before he woke up from his champagne and shag induced sleep.
When he did wake up he was feeling sick and hung-over. He reached to his nightstand in search of some aspirins and steroids but the steroids were missing. Frantically he jumped up and headed toward the bathroom not noticing the locks of curly hair strewn about. He made a bee line straight for the bathroom to look for the pills and the image in the mirror caught his eye. He stared at it curiously at first, then in confusion and mystification which descended rapidly into anger. It was at that point he realized the unfamiliar figure in the mirror he was looking at was his own image. “What the? Did she? What? That’s me? No! How could she? I can’t believe this……… she cut my hair into a mullet!! That bitch cut my beautiful golden locks into a God damn mullet! I’ll fucking kill her. Her and every fucking Philly-Steen I see. They’re dead! All of them! DEAD!!”
Never before had Samsung felt so much anger and rage. Betrayed twice by sexy beauties of the same family. That slutty Semedar and the God damn greedy Da-Liar. Samsung thought back to the lion he had slain and decided that was what he would be the fate of the entire Philly-Steen nation. But first he had to do something about the hideous haircut.