Starfire

Sara

2008-08-15T00:32:00.001-07:00

Buster knew what he had to do. He had lived his life. He had seen it all. He had felt it all. He was free from any harm. He was magically free. Free to feel life.

Buster was so free, that he was like a phantom. And Buster could perform miracles. He was a miracle, but only because of Sara. And Sara--Sara was a living Goddess. Sara was a Goddess that could never actually be in the same place as Buster, because they repelled each other. They had to be apart; to touch would mean an explosion the universe was not ready for. But apart, they were all what the universe was supposed to be.

But Sara began to feed off of Buster’s presence. A dance began. A dance the Gods could see would change the universe. And the dance has changed the universe. Sara and Buster’s lives overlapped as one, but they were two. And as two, they were beautiful. The universe finally realized its purpose; to be apart, but together.

Buster could see this. He knew this in his heart from the beginning—from before the beginning. He was born for it. And Sara was born for it. Sara. It’s her turn to live and be free. Free from harm. Free from bad feelings. Free to feel life. Free from anything that can hurt her. Free from Buster.

The universe loves Sara’s dance, a dance with life and a phantom she created; a dance in two places at once; a dance that can’t stop, but can only expand--a dance that set Buster free, and will set Sara free.

Sara. Her life will never end, because it is life itself—and Buster, a mere phantom, will always be a part of Sara, and apart from Sara. Sara set Buster free, and Buster will set Sara free--free to lead her destiny…There is nothing as special as this moment. There is nothing that can surpass the significance in life as this moment--this moment where Buster set Sara free. Bye, Sara.

time machine

2008-08-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

I have no idea what to blog about, so I just wrote "time machine" the first thing to pop into my mind, and now I have to write about it, haha.

Well, actually I saw this girl 10 years ago when she was 18 and I was twice her age at 36. She did something special for me. Then I saw her a couple months later by chance and she did something for me again. Then two years after that she appears out of nowhere and did something super special for me. Then seven months ago she shows up out of nowhere again and she does something for me that is like a miracle. But I did not recognize it was her until 5 months ago, I had forgotten all about her. But when I remembered, I could not believe she was the one responsible for everything good that has happened in my life.

So in the past 5 months I got to actually get to know her. And she is the most unbelievable person I have ever known. She is just magical, she glows. She is like perfect.

Turns out something extraordinary happened to me at the place she now works on the day she was born, and when I was 18. This something happened again the other day at another place that she now works. This something that happened to me on the day she was born (I did not know her though, until 18 years later) was so special, I named it. I gave it two names. It turns out one name is her name, and the other is her nickname.

So this girl has been like somehow weaved into my life in a spectacular way since the day she was born. And turns out she lives like one minute from my house. The thing is we are not each other's type. We have nothing in common other than she keeps appearing in my life and making everything okay when I don't know what to do. We don't have fun together, we are happier when we are apart.

It's like we are caught in a time machine and she is a phantom and can never really be there when I am. When we are together we repel each other. There is so much energy between us that we can never get too close or we’ll like explode. But we can see each other from afar and we are fine.

Now I am becoming the ghost and not her. It is she who now seems to feed off of my presence. It is she who is being affected. I am now the one who appears when she needs it. The energy between us is like a mystical dance. We are connected, but can never touch for long, because we are caught in a time machine at different times in space. Our lives overlap as one, yet we are two.

All I know for sure is that since we are caught at different times in this time machine, then nothing can ever break the bond we have, because our bond exists in two places at once. And the tool hasn’t even been invented that can touch something like that.

Christmas with half a heart

2007-12-16T15:24:00.001-08:00

The eyes see white
and the lungs and skin feel the cold.

A pocket of fire soothes the blight
and chestnuts simmer in their leathery hold

The beat of my heart holds me tight
under sounds of wood crackling bold.

And the memories of you, smiling with all your might.
Have you tasted the smell of cold?

The chestnuts are little hearts.

A heart shaped mold
of icy tears grip my face tight.

Life is magic so I am told
but fear and sadness are winning the fight.

We are together in our snow globe
but still you are far from sight.

Have you tasted the smell of cold
and held on with all your might?

You are my savior, my little heart.

Have Gun Will Travel

2007-08-31T14:59:00.000-07:00

A 14 year old boy got suspended from school for drawing this picture in class, because it depicted a gun.

He was interrogated to determine if he was a mass murderer in the making. They only showed a small part of the interrogation on TV, but my insider got the whole thing on tape. Here is how it went:

Cop: Why did you draw the picture?

Kid: I was bored.

Cop: Does the guy on the left depict anyone in particular, like a teacher?

Kid: No.

Cop: Then who is he?

Kid: Just some random guy I guess.

Cop: Do you think its okay to shoot random people?

Kid: No.

Cop: Do you have any guns in your home?

Kid: No.

Cop: Do you often think about shooting people?

Kid: No, except when I’m playing some video games.

Cop: Do you enjoy those games?

Kid: Yeah, they are fun.

Cop: Describe why they are fun to you.

Kid: Well, you are fighting for your life, and that’s exciting. Other games you can kill anything you want and that’s power I guess. Fun.

Cop: Did you know shooter video games are just like practice for killing?

Kid: I thought it was just play, and different from real life.

Cop: Let me put it this way, if I gave you my gun right now, would you try to shoot everybody?

Kid: No, I’m not a bad guy, and I’m not stupid.

Cop: What’s a bad guy to you?

Kid: Someone who treats others bad.

Cop: Why do they treat others bad?

Kid: You tell me. You’re the one treating me bad right now. Why?

Cop: Because you drew a gun and may be a threat to society.

Kid: Anybody can draw a gun, so that makes everybody a threat. So that justifies treating everybody bad?

Cop: Yes, if need be.

Kid: So you are a bad guy, and society is a bad guy, and we are all bad, is that what you are saying?

Cop: Yup.

Kid: Then why pick on me?

Cop: Because you’re an easy target, and we get paid: I get paid, your probation officer will get paid, your criminal psychiatrist will get paid, the FBI who will put you on their permanent watch list will get paid…We have the power.

Kid: So ‘power’ is the key because it keeps society getting paid? And good or bad does not matter?

Cop: It’s all about who has the power brother.

Kid: So how do I get in on this power?

Cop: You just have to prostitute yourself to it. If you’re not a whore, then you’re just another potential John about to get screwed.

Kid: Okay, cool... Well all this is just a mistake. I did not draw a gun, it’s a boomerang. The guy on the left threw it to the guy on the right who caught it.

Cop: Haha! I think you will fit into society well kid. You are free to go...

Finally Something Positive

2007-05-30T18:04:00.000-07:00

The chicks wandered into the tiger cub cage, and were not harmed. See, this is what I'm talking about!

This picture holds the meaning of life. It's right there all around us, all the time. Cherish it. Cherish the moments. Cherish the time we have.

(just thought I'd mix this blog up a little--you know, a little this, a little that...)

Season of Angels

2006-12-28T00:52:00.000-08:00

I could not find the infamous invisible flying plant in Australia. But I found a pub that served beer, bangers and mash, and kangaroo meat. And I found a Catholic Church with a huge stone Angel. All I could think of was how Divine she looked, and how ironic it would be if she fell on me and killed me—“Man killed by an Angel”

So that gave me an idea for a new mission—to search for a real Angel.

So I’m leaving for Singapore tomorrow to sin. I figure that ought to attract an Angel or two—you know, to try to save me from sin.

If I don't catch an Angel in two weeks, then I’m going to Paris to sin. If still no Angel, then I’m off to Rome and the Vatican (there’s gotta be Angels around there.) If still no Angel, I'll go chill in Ireland and settle for a Leprechaun. I won’t be back until April next year, so I’ll let everyone know what happens when I get back.

Have a nice New Year!

From Vince, to Lucy

2006-09-22T22:23:00.000-07:00

A full-scale model of "Lucy," the celebrated skeletal remains of a female hominid who lived 3.2 million years ago, is seen at a prehistoric museum in Bidon, France. Lucy will leave Ethiopia next year for her first-ever foreign exhibition, officials said.(AFP/File)

He approaches her from behind, he is close. She is napping, curled up in the fetal position, resting her wary muscles. But she senses him, and with one quick extension of her powerful arm, she shoves him back at least five feet and he retreats. She does not want him on top of her right now.

She opens her eyes. Her babies are snuggled under a bush in front of her. She is thirsty and the sound of the stream calls to her. The stream; it could be dangerous there, and as she walks towards it, her alertness sharpens. After-all, everything drinks from that stream. And a great deal of them could run much faster than she, and they are bigger, and they may want to eat her.

Oh, the water feels good. She looks back at her babies. Mam, the eldest of the females, is sitting next to them now. And there is Luk, watching her with one thing on his mind.

The past or future is not in her vocabulary. Neither is money, or time, or worry, or love. But she has the feeling of love with her family. And she has a similar feeling of love with the water that makes love to her body, the sky that tells her when to sleep, and the land with its endless wonders, and the berries she only knows as ‘Suk’--her favorite.

She leads a lonely life, but is too busy living to know it--a lonely life, because she is the only one inside her mind. Everything else is outside. She likes it when Mam scratches her back.

All that she wants is another baby. She walks up to Luk, turns her back, and makes her pose. All that she wants is another baby…

Editor's note:

Hi Blogland visitors (if anyone’s still out there)--hope you are all doing well!!! I've been away from Blogland on various extra-curricular excursions. I'm taking a journey next week to Australia again for 40 days and 40 nights. Then I'm back here sometime in November.

As some of you know (April 13th post) my last expedition to Australia to catch the first invisible butterfly (Belenois Invisibilis) failed miserably.

This time, I’m going after something a little less elusive. A plant! I’m tentatively calling this plant the Arundiganth Amamilis. But it’s currently an undiscovered new species, and still just a rumor, but my sources and instinct tells me it’s out there in the Northern Territory—and I’m going to catch one. I say catch, because according to my contacts, this plant can apparently uproot itself and blow with the wind.

With shallow roots, it grows on other plants length-wise (flat, not tall.) It’s transparent, and virtually invisible. It can easily be mistaken for a slug trail, or when in flight, a string of spider web.

The problem is the plants are thought to thrive in a region controlled by up to 90 trillion Yellow Crazy ants. These bugs shoot acid in your eyes to blind you then they run away. Then they come back with a swarm of friends from their supercolonies to eat you. They can devour an entire human body in minutes.

I’m bringing my goggles, magnifying glass, Petri dish, rubber ant proof suit, and my usual Safari gear. Wish me luck!

A World Without Men:

2006-08-24T02:26:00.000-07:00

Someone sent me a lizard in the mail. I’m going to take it with me tomorrow for a 4 day road trip to Reno for good luck. The lizard made me think of the Y chromosome. They say in about 125,000 years the Y chromosome will completely disappear, and along with it the human male. Females will become unisexual and capable to reproduce without the need for a man.

The Whiptail lizard already does this. They are all female. But since offspring are all basically clone copies of the mom, the species has to rely on mutation to adapt and evolve.

So what if we woke up tomorrow and we lived in a world without men? What would be changed? Well, here are the top 10 changes:

10. The death penalty for being gay that currently exists in 9 countries won’t exist—since everyone will probably be lesbian.

9. God and the Bible will be obsolete—maybe there will be a Goddess though.

8. No more tampons or cramps—the whole system will change.

7. A two day work week—5 day weekend to better accommodate emotional needs.

6. Nuclear weapons will be gone—women are just not too good in math or war anyway.

5. Open sewers will be popular again—when’s the last time you saw a woman plumber?

4. Everyone will live in a shopping mall.

3. Women will be more beautiful, their breasts will look better, and they will make love with whoever they want, and whenever they want—just to spite the ghost of man.

2. Movies will be boring—I mean really.

And the number 1 change…

1. David Hasselhoff will be President of the United States—don’t ask!

The Greatest American Dessert!

2006-08-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

I ALWAYS eat desert before or during my main meal. I just don’t want a terrorist to show up and make my last mouthful a spoon of green beans. I’d rather go with a banana split in my mouth.

But not all people believe in, or benefit from the banana split. Terrorists, for example, would surely be a more peaceful folk had they discovered the charms of the ultimate fruity delight. And you can’t find a banana split in China! Or in a Chinese restaurant for that matter! The Chinese I know simply won’t touch the stuff—“It’s not healthy,” they say. “It’s better to eat rice and vegetables, and green tea for meals.”

Hog wash!!! You just gotta learn to balance things.

Speaking of balance, there is a time in every man’s life when a banana split becomes more attractive than a woman. I mean a banana split ALWAYS shows you a good time. You can count on a banana split. A banana split won’t argue with you, it just submits to your ravishing. A banana split is variety all in one, not like most women. And women claim to be sugar and spice and everything nice; but they still fart like everybody else. A banana split does not fart.

So a banana split has a place on my bike anytime. But a woman? Well, maybe if her name is Kristen Scott Thomas. Or Gwyneth Paltrow. Or Ashley Judd. Or Heather Grant. Or if she doesn’t mind dressing up like a banana split. Or if she wears perfume that smells like flowers, yeah, that will work too. Or popcorn. Perfume that smells like buttered popcorn.

Why I ride

2006-08-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

A buddy and I have a smoke outside the sushi bar after lunch…

Bud: Why do you ride that motorcycle anyway?

Vin: It’s a chick magnet.

Bud: What, you like chicks that smoke, drink beer and have tattoos?

Vin: Heck yeah! Besides, it attracts all women—the danger, the inhibition—turns ‘em on.

Bud: It attracts skanks. You like skanks?

Vin: Heck yeah!

Bud: Liar!

Vin: What? You just don’t know the beauty of a skank.

Bud: Haha, what beauty? A crack head skank? You’re tellin’ me you would do a slutty, oily, sweaty, smelly dirty skank?

Vin: [I pause to think]

Bud: Haha See? You wouldn’t.

Vin: No, I was just thinking of some skanks I’ve met. You just don’t have a clue ‘cause you never get out. The skanks I’m thinking of—they’re the bomb man, I’d do ‘em in a heart beat!

Bud: You’re full of sh_t!

Vin: Fine, more for me, you’ll never know what your missing. A skank is like Heaven on Earth dude.

My buddy shakes his head, and just then a skank comes out of the liquor store and he starts cracking up.

Bud: Hey! What’s you’re tee-shirt say? [to the skank]

The skank turns around and shows him, it says “Guys and Brains Don’t Mix!”

Bud: Hey, I don’t agree with that!

Skank: You agree with this? [she lifts her shirt over her breasts.]

Bud: [Jaw drops]

Vin: Damn!

Skank: [puts her shirt back down.] You wanna help me carry this bag to my car?

My buddy helps her to her car, carrying her little bag full of probably smokes, condoms and booze. He comes back with a phone number and a big smile on his face.

Bud: Look what I got. Oh yeah baby! See how it’s done!

Vin: You got a phone number of a skank, wake up!!!

Bud: But you were just saying…

Vin: You gotta be choosey when you go skanking homer, not all skanks are equal. I can’t believe you just got pussy whipped by a skank.

Bud: Well I like this one, her name’s Sara.

Vin: I don’t care if her name’s Paris Hilton, you’ll need triple layer condoms with that one.

Bud: Don’t worry about it. Hey, I need to borrow your bike tomorrow night.

Vin: No way. Why?

Bud: I told her the bike was mine…

Give me some of that!

2006-07-24T17:55:00.000-07:00

Goodtimes

My first YouTube post--Josie does 'em, so I wanted to try too-- Remember this VID used to come with Windows 95. Good 'ole Bill Gates helping the World chill.

Frolicking balls from Josie's Place

HEY!

2006-07-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

Hey, I am switching my 'POST' schedule to once a week every Monday. Because my work has slammed me once again with stuff to do and I have to cut back on all 70 of my hobbies to accommodate. But I will still be reading blogs whenever I can. Cheers to a good Summer!

A professor working under a Hartford research grant was mauled to death by this Gorilla while he was trying to determine its intelligence. The only evidence of what happened is on this partial tape recording:

Prof: Okay, what letter comes after Q?

Gorilla: Arrrr!

Prof: Okay, good. Now talk like a Pirate.

Gorilla: Arrrrr!

Prof: Great, now what do you say when Jennifer Lopez walks into the room?

Gorilla: Ooo Ooo.

Prof: Terrific, good job.

Gorilla: Hey!

Prof: Excuse me? What did you say? Did you say Hey? Say it again!

Gorilla: (silence)

Prof: Common, say it again for the tape, say HEY!

Gorilla: (silence)

Prof: SAY HEY!

Gorilla: (silence)

Prof: COME ON, SAY IT AGAIN YOU DAMN DIRTY APE!

Gorilla: ARRRRRRRRG !! [SLAM! BAM! click*]

Hezbollah

2006-07-18T02:23:00.000-07:00

The sands of time were born from turmoil and conflict. Adi and Walter had barely exchanged greetings, when enters Hezbollah!

Adi: Hezbollah? I’ve seen you around. But you and your friends have nothing to offer me. It does not matter if I think you attractive, or admire your abstract for fine dining. It does not matter that you choose to live in a grave and play with dirt and explosives. I’m simply not interested in playing with you right now. As you should know, I am with Walter now. Trust me; a man of your charms will have no problem getting all the attention you require. Just keep asking for it, and you shall receive. Just not from me, right now.

Walter: Hezbollah? What you want to compete for Adi? Shii-ut! Do you know who I am? (oh wait, I think that line has been overused lately by a Hoss, or Huff, or Hoff or whatever.) Let me try again--I’m busy right now dude. But I’ll be civil for Adi’s sake, and as a token of my love for Adi, I am sending over my photographer Bert, to take your picture with his new Cannon RG9000. This way Adi will have something special to remember you by. Oh, and remember, when Bert gets there, don’t forget to say Goat Cheese!

Hezbollah, say CHEESE!

Epilogue: Walter and Carl create their destinies

2006-07-17T21:36:00.000-07:00

Walter has packed his trunks and is flying out tonight to start his new life with Adi. Actually the ‘trunks’ he was wearing was all he had left to his name after the fire--that and the leash and collar thing around his neck.

I gave him a beret as a going away present, and a French Cuisine Cook Book, and some seeds to start his own garden. Walter is happy and at peace, and can barely wait to unite with his true love Jewel (Adi) and his newly created family.

Carl left this morning carrying his cannon balls and some scuba gear. He’s hitchhiking to LA to reunite with Amber. Carl has completely rehabilitated the wound Tori Spelling gave him, and he’s stronger than ever. There is no room for his cannon balls in his backpack, but he cleverly chained them to his new Prince Albert so he can carry them in his pants.

Carl plans to take Amber to the Tar Pits. Then a quiet stroll through East LA. And to top off their first date, they will take a ferry to Catalina Island for a weekend of crab fishing and scuba diving.

Both Walter and Carl want to thank PDD for her diligence and match making ability, and look forward to living blissful lives with their new friends—love is in the cards for them.

Message from Walter:

2006-07-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

In response to Amichai’s correspondence, Walter wanted me to relay this message to Adi Goldstein (Jewel Ornament), Alona Mann (Oak Tree), and Amichai (My people are alive):

Apparently Walter broke up with Hellenisva early this morning. Hellenisva ate 12 bananas and a birthday cake for breakfast; then afterwards, while having sex in Walter’s camper trailer, she started farting something fierce. The small quarters made things unbearable, but worse, the romantic candle display exploded in flames and all hell broke loose. Not Walter’s idea of love spawned fireworks. No one was harmed, but Walter is now homeless.
Walter needs a home. Will Adi and Alona consider adopting Walter? After Amichai’s letter, Walter has fallen in love with the Whole Family. He said he’ll be a good little boy from now on, and will let Adi give him sponge baths and tuck him into bed on cold winter nights. Will the Goldstein’s accept Walter into their home, and be the loving family he’s never had?

Carl--Gets a date?

2006-07-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

Amber, I know you! I partied with you in LA last summer. Remember? Tori Spelling (your iguana) swallowed my Prince Albert; ripped it right off (Now I wear a clip-on.)

Then something fell off your face and I thought it was a jello shot. Remember I chucked up something that looked like an Egg Plant and you thought you was looking in a mirror? Ha ha, after that we started calling you 'Egg Plant'.

Do you still have this Egg Plant I gave you, the one I stole from David Hasslehoff’s fruit basket?

You rock girl, I can’t believe you don’t remember me. Let’s definitely hook up again, and I’ll let you hold my cannon balls. Peace out!

Carl

Hellenisva: Speaks on Walter's behalf

2006-07-16T13:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Jewel,

I am psychic Hellenisva. You have no love for Walter. Your heart is more into eating hairy Matzah ball soup and fellating Abalona’s fish, and parading around with shameless glee—admit it!

Walter needs a strong partner, not one that bends over every time Abalona wants to shove his big oak tree in your hairy sesame seed bun, and make hairy Matzah ball sandwiches.

Walter came to me a broken man. But I let him see the light, the truth. Walter is MINE now, and we are having the lesbian affair of his dreams.

You don’t know what you are missing! Did you know Walter is so in control of his muscles that he can make his WHOLE body VIBRATE? Perpetual orgasm baby! I’m still withering and we finished 10 minutes ago. Oh wait; here it goes again…aaaaaaa…aaaaa…ohhhhhhhhh…(pause to catch my breath.) Mmmmmmm.

You had your chance. But don’t cry honey, you can still have your old oak tree hit you over the head with Kosher bottles of wine. Have fun!

And get a haircut!

Editor’s note: Sorry, pdd. Looks like it didn’t work out with our match. But we tried, that’s what counts. If it’s any consolation to Abi and Alona (jewel ornamant and oak tree) Carl is still available. I think Abi and Alona are swell.

Walter: Letter to Jewel

2006-07-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

Hi Jewel,

Thank you for your recent response.

I thought LONG and HARD about you. I can’t seem to get you out of my head. I’ve come to the realization that I am Gay. I am not Jewish, but I love the name Jewel. I love Kosher Pickles (especially the little cute ones.) And I love Barbara Streisand.

No offense to Oak Tree, but I hate him. And I’m jealous of Kevin Space-sick. I want you to spend all your time with ME! I just want to hold you and protect you. I love you. I want you so bad, and love that you’ve taken on the gym and orgasmic foods. I’m amazed at your power to cut dialmonds. I can crush them, but can’t figure out how to cut them—I am egor to learn. We can make dialmond milkshakes together.

I love your beard and corn hole. I want to rub my face in them all night long. I want to kiss your other beard too, and smell it. But I am worried. You see, I am very submissive. But I love you and can relate to you, and love that you too are submissive.

And I’m nervous about asking you if you are ready for a lesbian experience. If you still want to be my girl, please dump the old oak tree (please) And send pictures of your soft round butt. I will make you very hapy.

From my breaking heart.

Walter.

Interview: Chief Dark Cloud

2006-07-13T01:58:00.000-07:00

Vince: What makes you happy?
Chief: My people, and their freedom.
Vince: What do you think of George Bush?
Chief: He is a Chief without a people.
Vince: How do you lead your people?
Chief: I listen. And speak from my heart.
Vince: And they listen to you?
Chief: My heart is their heart.
Vince: So what does that mean? How does that solve their problems?
Chief: If they follow their heart, their problems will be solved.
Vince: What if they have hatred in their hearts?
Chief: A heart big enough for hatred is a heart big enough for love.
Vince: What if they’re ignorant?
Chief: Knowledge is not the purpose of our hearts.
Vince: So what is the purpose of our hearts?
Chief: Listen to your heart, and it will show you the answer.
Vince: How about lawyers? What so you think of them?
Chief: Everything has a purpose.
Vince: How about women, do you have a woman?
Chief: To be had is not their purpose.
Vince: I see you have a Battle Axe. Will you use it to protect your land?
Chief: I use it to kill. The land does not need us, or our protection.
Vince: Why would you kill?
Chief: To survive.
Vince: Would you kill for revenge?
Chief: I kill to survive.
Vince: If I kick you in the balls. Would you find love in your heart and forgive me?
Chief: I will receive your gift. And in return I’ll let you feel the steel of my Battle Axe, and give you a taste of your own freshly cut balls.
Vince: You wouldn’t really cut off my balls would you?
Chief: You wouldn’t really kick me in the balls would you?
Vince: Okay, ah in closing, one final question: We know you are a fierce warrior, respectable leader, and fabulous dresser; but are you good in bed?
Chief: Is there a woman who loves you?
Vince: Yes of course, why?
Chief: Then bring her to me tonight. And if she rides with me tomorrow, then I must be damn good.

Carl...again

2006-07-11T18:50:00.000-07:00

“Hi, my name is Carl. I posted here months ago but still didn’t get a date. Maybe I was too picky? Anyhow, I just want to chill with an open-minded girl who likes kids. If you like ice hockey and waffles, that is a plus. Smoker’s welcome. I’m thinking of replacing these rings with fishhooks—what do you think? I have some money, and can throw a cannon ball over 50 yards. If you think you’re the girl for me, and want to hook up, please give me a holler…Peace out.”

Walter

2006-07-10T01:07:00.000-07:00

“Hi, my name is Walter. I’m looking for a girl who is smart, wears perfume, and enjoys cuddling outdoors. If you have nice hair, and like ice-skating, and romantic fishing trips, then you are the girl for me. No smokers please. And no pilots. If you fly a Cessna, then please do not apply. I have a job and can crack 40 walnuts with one flex of my stomach muscles. I can also crack a coconut under each arm, and two coconuts between my legs. All this while balancing an egg on my head--yes, I am that gentle. If you think you are combatable with me, then give me a shout, and we can mingle.”

Space Suit

2006-07-08T21:15:00.000-07:00

My buddy and I have another silly conversation:

Buddy: I wanna go to space.

Me: What for?

Bud: I wanna meet aliens, to talk to them.

Me: You’re already doing that. I mean, we’re already in space. The Earth is a big space ship. And we ARE the aliens. To anyone else out there that is.

Bud: No, I wanna go on a space ship and meet a REAL alien from another planet.

Me: You’ll need a space ship.

Bud: That’s possible nowadays.

Me: But a space suit alone costs around 10 million dollars—that possible too?

Bud: I don’t need a suit.

Me: There’s no oxygen in space. In direct sun light it’s 250 degrees. If you try to hide in the shade, it’s minus 150 degrees. Then there’s the cosmic rays and solar wind you need protection from—you need a suit homey.

Bud: So I’ll steal one.

Me: They weigh 350 pounds. Give it up! The earth is 99% water, why not just go scuba diving and meet a new fish?

Bud: Because I wanna meet a real alien.

Me: What if you do, and the alien is the size of an atom? How you gonna talk to him?

Bud: [no answer]

Me: What if you don’t understand his language? What if the one you meet is a rapist? What if he’s so big, when he takes a breath, he sucks you up his nose and you get stuck in his mucus? Is that what you want? Why don’t you just get real?

Bud: There are intelligent beings out there who can communicate with me.

Me: Think for a minute! Idiot! Why would an intelligent being want to communicate with YOU? That’s like me wanting to talk to a fu_king skunk. That’s like me wanting to talk to the bacteria in this mustard on my hotdog. Why the hell would they want to talk to you??? You fu_king Moron!

Bud: Fu_k you!

Me: Now me personally, I want to have sex with a female alien.

Bud: Yeah. In space in zero gravity.

Me: Yeah, and we'll have to be strapped together so we don't float apart.

Bud: But you'll run out of oxygen in about a minute?

Me: That's enough time...

The girls sitting next to us got up and left.

Dead Man’s Chest

2006-07-05T00:12:00.000-07:00

British actress Keira Knightley poses at premiere of 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest' at Leicester Square, central London (Phil Noble/Reuters)

I used to be as skinny as Keira. The odd thing I remember is that when I had a stomach ache, I could never understand how so much pain could come from a place where I had so little substance. Keira may be a size negative 2, but you can bet her pain is still in ‘full’ size. I know.

And every time I sat down, the only thing separating the seat and my bones was a thin layer of skin and it was so uncomfortable, when I had to take those hour long exams in school, 80% of my time was spend shifting my weight from bone to bone. I hate tests.

My waist was so thin, when I turned sideways, I could barely see myself in the mirror. I used to get two mirrors positioned with a space between to actually convince myself I was there.

One day, I lay exhausted and flat on the floor. My cat walked over me and didn’t even notice me. I think she just thought I was a new throw rug.

I learned if I tied a stick around my chest like a cross-- under my windbreaker-- then on windy days I could ride my bike to school without even peddling.

The bully in school hit me in the stomach. But he missed!

When my parents took me out to eat, the hostess would always ask, “table for two?” They thought I was the coat rack.

At the Hospital, my parents bought me a ‘Danny ‘O” Day’ venquilatrist doll. But the other kids got confused. They were calling me Danny.

The Docs did find the remains of a tapeworm in my system. But it had been dead for 10 years—starved to death.

My sister got in trouble one day for using my belly button as an incense holder.

My father got in trouble just for looking at me ‘funny’ at the company picnic, when he couldn't find the other pole for the horseshoe pit.

My brother almost broke my arm when he thought it was a back scratcher.

At the pool, all the other kids had cool beach towels to dry off with. I had a Kleenex.

But the worst thing that happened was when the fat lady next door stuck my head upside down into her Margarita and tried to suck it out my other end.

Okay; I’m going to cut myself off here before I offend someone :)

Sports?

2006-07-02T15:16:00.000-07:00

When men watch women’s sports, they always end up thinking of sex. It’s because a woman exudes sex. Instead of wearing baggy shorts to play tennis, they wear short skirts with a cut-out to exhibit the private area.

When women play volleyball, they wear shorts that are shorter than the gloves I use to ride my motorcycle, and tighter than the gasket hugging my V8 engine block.

Sometimes I just want to see sports. If I wanted sex to show up in sports, let me see some size Zero models wearing high heel tennis shoes play badminton or croquet.

Mary

2006-06-23T00:47:00.000-07:00

Mary is a four-year old Asian girl. Three of her classmates are Iranian. Mary and her five other Asian classmates happened to run faster then the Iranians, and Mary concluded that Asians are faster than Iranians. A stigma was created. “Iranians are slow.” Oh, and they smelled of spices, but Mary only knew the word ‘stink’, so Iranians are slow, and they stink now too. Mary’s new Asian friends look like her, and they know Chinese. They quickly build a common bond, and then they forced the Iranians out of the playhouse because they are brown, and thus slow and stinky. And the Iranians are outnumbered, so they are weaker, and they don’t belong, like the cat does not belong on the page with the apple, orange, and banana. Besides they dress funny, don’t talk English too well, and don’t talk Chinese at all.

Mary had become an instant racist. Nobody had taught her this. It was a product of Childs play--a product of real life and growth—an innocent and natural occurring form of racism that led to pure oppression and discrimination! Mary did not feel ‘hate’ at all for the Iranians however. It was all play and fun. Mary was happy to play Princess and be the ‘bestest’ of the playground. But the Iranian girls felt hurt. And they hated that feeling. And they began to hate Mary and her Asian friends for delivering the hurt. They hated Asians because they were hurtful. And so they hit Mary on the head, out of anger, and called Mary “stupid.” So Mary now felt hate too. And hurt. And she hit back.

Mary had become an oppressive, hateful, violent racist within the first two hours on her first day of pre-school; and her first day around other children.

Racism, hate, discrimination, anger, oppression and ‘people in general’ are not the problem at all because these things just happen. It is Ignorance that is the problem, because ignorance does not ‘just’ happen. Ignorance has already happened! All we have to do is learn from what has already happened. You’d think that would be easy.

World Cup

2006-06-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

I watch the World Cup on ESPN2. When someone scores a goal, the announcer says, “he scored a goal.”

On the Mexican TV station, the announcer says, “Goooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllll. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL. Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooall.”

See the difference?

When Mexico, Germany, France, Brazil, etc scores, their WHOLE COUNTRY ROARS. The whole country knows. But when the USA team scores, some kid in Chicago is buying a hot dog with no relish--clueless. And some other guy is sitting in traffic with his radio tuned to Howard Stern.

My Portuguese friends’ root for Portugal, my German friends root for Germany, my British friends root for England. And it’s the same with my French, Japanese, Korean, Brazilian, Australian, Iranian and Italian friends—all for their country of origin. Who roots for Team USA? Who in the USA really gives a damn? Just me? Hell, we probably outsource most of our players from other countries anyway.

Where is our National Camaraderie? Where is our National Pride? Has it dissolved into the mixing pot? Is this good? The greatest game in World History has no place in the Greatest Nation?

Maybe we have become so anti-establishment that we ARE the establishment. And what have we established--a Nation of modern day Hippies? Not to say there is anything ‘wrong’ with the Hippie mentality, there are the attractions. But I want to see a Hippie who can play soccer--a Hippie who can see a competitive game as a means to enhance peace and love; a Hippie who can respect and command respect from other Nations in the game; a Hippie who can talk peace, yet can also pick up a ball or gun and get excited about something. Excited about America!

Such a Hippie leader can bring back the Bond America is missing. A Bond that will put us all on the same page when acting on ‘What is RIGHT’ for our Nation and the Nations we share the Earth with.

A thousand years from now, our history books may credit the salvation of our Nation to a shorthaired Hippie sporting a tattoo of the Grateful Dead and carrying a soccer ball.

Misty

2006-06-14T03:37:00.000-07:00

“Long ago, and so far away, I fell in love with you, before the second show...”
You loved Karen Carpenter; I remember. You loved life.
Remember the time, when you and I sat together and observed the world?
And for that moment we shared eternity.
And we knew what life was all about, it was so simple.
We listened.
To life.
As one.
Here’s to you, Princess. And I don’t even have to say it.

We don’t even have to say it...

Water

2006-06-11T17:28:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the writings that grow in Straw Houses

the wind comes

and leaves her leaning one way.

fruits fall,

roots dig in and water sooths the pain.

She runs and falls and loves

and sits,

then sees the memories of laughter

and me.

time cannot evaporate the memories

of what never was.

Alaska vs. Sad Sac

2006-06-10T12:42:00.000-07:00

So this was Alaska. Cool. I approached the float plane sporting my Indiana Jones outfit. Equipped with my adventurous look, I was confident that I was going to impress the two girls who were already inside. But upon entry, I hit my head on the door frame so hard that I fell on my back and my Skittles (which were in my shirt pocket) spilled all over the dock. All of a sudden I was an instant dork, and the smirk on the pilots face confirmed this. When we landed at our destination, I cautiously deplaned first, unable to ignore or hide the sprouting bump on my forehead. I had to walk to the trading post alone because the two girls wanted to stay and talk to the pilot dude, who had gallantly overshadowed my Indiana Jones outfit with his greasy hands, grinding gears, and general he-man mannerism.

So I took to the trail towards the trading post all alone. But then a miracle! There before me was the sight of two beautiful young Japanese girls, disembarking from a helicopter. They were obviously tourists, complete with expensive Nikkon cameras, floppy hats and brand new hiking boots. I quickly approached them and threw out a friendly greeting, “O-Hiyogozai-masu.” They responded, not with the flurry of Japanese yakking that I had anticipated, but rather with a simple, “You’re bleeding man,” in more than proper English.

After describing the crash landing, and close shave with death, I talked them into taking a short detour through the woods; to a place by the lakes edge where I assured them would yield great pictures of the glacier on the other side. They looked upon me as a seasoned adventurer with extraordinary knowledge of Alaskan tundra and woodlands.

Then the mosquitoes came in relentless torrents, buzzing and bumping and sucking the blood from all exposed skin and even through my clothing. I swapped and slapped, and screamed in futility while the Japanese girls, garnished with pre-adorned repellant, avoided the debacle completely. They also whipped out these electric wand things that exerted an inconsequential current to humans, but exploded mosquitoes on contact. It sounded like they were popping corn.

“You don’t have repellant?” They asked
“True explorers don’t bother with trivial things.” I said, very aware there were tears in my eyes at this point. The mosquitoes were getting stuck between my eyes and glasses, and engorging themselves on my bloody bump. They called in more of their friends—thousands of them-- and my head became a focal point, a feast, a living feeder. I must have looked goofy because the girl in the yellow hat mumbled the word “Bozo!” I had lost all reputability—I was no doubt a tactless fraud in their minds--but I didn’t care, I was just trying to survive. They offered to turn back, but I insisted we stay our course, and that this was an everyday occurrence for me, and just a minor annoyance.

When we arrived at the lakes edge, the girls took more pictures of me than the glacier. I had lost control and stuck my head in the lake. My hat disappeared into the ice cold water, and when I emerged, my hair looked like a frozen mosquito nest. The girl with the yellow hat blurted out, “Barney” to her friend--not even trying to hide the offending word under her breath to spare what was left of my ears. Then they took more pictures of me.

When we made it back to the trading post, it was lunch time. They served freshly caught salmon, deer, rabbit, and other delicious looking dishes. A buffet of kingly pleasures! Now this is what I’m talking about. But the float plane girls hooked up with the Japanese girls and they wanted nothing more to do with me. And I sat alone in the corner staring at the two aspirin on my empty plate, that the waitress was so kind to give me. My lips were starting to swell--yes, I am deadly allergic to mosquito bites. I couldn’t eat, or even stand up to get the food. The girls that once glanced in my direction with laughter in their eyes now stared with alarm. My face felt like a balloon about to pop. I could barely see through my swollen lids, and my glasses started bending and digging into my head. My hands could have doubled as surgical gloves that some wicked kid filled with water to shower an unwary victim. I couldn’t even hold the water glass to take the aspirin.

I looked down at the sight of my once baggy pants, now threatening to burst at the seams. But where were my private parts, my manly bulge? They were being squeezed in by emerging thighs. I was looking at camel toes!!! A distinct feminine feature that had no business in my pants! I heard myself scream. Then the gasps came. Then the camera flashes (those damn Japanese girls.) …Then the medi-vac.

The Wizard

2006-06-03T12:44:00.000-07:00

I first became aware of my powers when I was 8 years old. I saw the back of a man wearing a white shirt and walking a small black dog with a distinct background of a large glass wall. It was a dream. But a month later my parents took us to the county fair for the first time. I watched in awe as I saw the back of that same man and dog at a dog show there. The glass wall framed a large bleacher area.

Later, such dreams would occur time and time again. The most memorable happened when I was in my twenties. I started having re-occurring dreams of large mansions. In one dream, I was a little boy playing in a large room. I ran out of the room and into a narrow hall with wooden railings that shaped into a square. It was open in the center to the foyer below. There was a floor above me, and below me with similar railings, and the foyer was at the bottom for a total of four floors. I ran to the foyer and looked up to see the squares—the squares got a little narrower as it went up, kind of like a pyramid, but not so distinct. I had the feeling I did not live there, but enjoyed playing there. There were other kids there too.

In a second dream, I was also a kid. I walked into a side door of a mansion and there was a huge room with men eating and drinking on long tables. There was a bar or kitchen on one end. The ceiling was low and it was not a formal dining area.

A year later, I happened to be in Providence Rhode Island on business. It was very cold, close to zero degrees, and I was ill prepared with my isotoner gloves. But none-the-less, I ventured out to check out the Great Mansions which were open to the public for tour, and was recommended by business associates. There were tons of mansions on my ‘mansion map’, but I only had time to visit like six of them, and some of them were closed due to the cold and snow. One mansion, I was the sole tourist, and the mansion guide was an older female in her forties who could not hide her lust for my tall dark male frame. (I was young and arrogant.) I could tell she was fantasizing about me as she led me into room after room, her tail becoming increasingly welcoming and actually calling out for attention. But when we got to the foyer, my distraction vanished as I gazed up to see the three square halls. Identical to that of my dreams. I stood there looking up in awe for what seemed like minutes, and debated whether to reveal my dream to the female in heat who by then was giving me a quizzical look. I choose to keep my mouth shut. When we approached the room on the third floor, I knew what it would look like and my heart raced as we entered another familiar room. The woman in heat reported it as a play room. Despite my gentlemanly appearance and our age differences, I still regret not ‘taking’ her in the laundry room.

Another mansion reinforced my wizardly experience. The guide led me into a side door of a mansion where there were at least 30 children seated on the floor around another guide in what appeared to be a field trip. The room was identical to my dream, and still full of life. Other rooms in this mansion were familiar to me from my dreams as well, and a square piano which I so wanted to play in my dreams but did not. (like I was not allowed to play it.) And I had the same strong urge to play it in my present life, but with the guide at my side and the plastic cover over the keys, I was again denied.

The bottom line, is that I ‘saw’ both the past AND future in a present dream. I have powers. Wizardly powers. And I’ve exploited them a bit over the years. At the race track I won $1,800 on a ‘vision’ or a 7/4 exacta long shot. I strolled the Casino floor and it paid off. I locked onto one slot machine that according to my ‘vision’ would hit a jackpot on the very next spin. I put in two quarters and was $500 richer. The same jackpot I envisioned. But I still fail at trusting my powers. I passed up putting $100 down on the two double zero’s on a roulette table—Twice in minutes. I left in frustration for not trusting my visions.

So one day, I parked my car and closed my eyes. And I prayed to God that, “if these visions are real, then when I open my eyes, let there pass before me, a person in red.” The exact moment I opened my eyes, and between some low hedges, and across the street, a girl with a bright red jacked peddled her bike right in the middle of the space where I was looking! I was astonished! It WAS real. So I said, “God, if this is all real, then let there be a million dollars beneath my seat.” I looked and found nothing. So I said to myself, “well maybe it does not always work eh?” and was satisfied. A couple of days later, I realized I was parked above an underground garage. And I may not have been specific enough. I bet there was a car parked below me and my seat that contained a million dollars for my taking…

So last month I was watching the lotto balls come down the tube on TV. After the first two I decided to try a ‘vision’. The third and forth was a no go. But I got the last two and the balls positioned the numbers in the EXACT angles I had envisioned. So I need a way to envision ALL the balls well before they are dropped to give me time to buy the ticket. But it’s hard work. It’s hard to concentrate on six balls, I can only do one or two at a time.

So even with wizardly powers, I remain a failure. (that is I have to work for a living.) What a waste. I’m probably the only Wizard out there who is a loser…

If I were King…

2006-06-01T11:32:00.000-07:00

I’d be at the beach right now.

I’d bring my armies home from Iraq. Iraq is not my Kingdom.

I’d let Iran alone. But warn if they harm my Kingdom or my friends, then harm will come unto them.

I’d buy everyone in my Kingdom a brand new Harley, or a 72 inch flat screen LCD HDTV ready TV, or a grand piano—their choice.

I would dabble with acting and play opposite Vin Diesel as the bad guy.

I would live modestly in my Castle, but throw a smashing party at least once a month with plenty of good hearty meat and drink.

Drugs, prostitution, gambling--all legal. Except for minors.

Everyone can say ANYTHING they want. The ‘N’ word becomes defused and just another word. People of all colors and orientations love each other.

9/11 would never had happened and there is no threat of terror—Osama would get his 72 virgins without having to give his life.

Mexico would be thriving and illegal immigration not a problem.

Anyone can commit any crime they want. But they risk getting something chopped off--maybe their head or private parts. No need for prisons. (and their Harley would be taken away.)

Guns and shooting ranges are plentiful, and you can ‘carry’ concealed anywhere; but people will rarely have to, or want to.

Out of a job? Join the New Army. No age restrictions. There is a job for everyone. No need for Welfare.

And on the 7th day, I shall rest…

McDonald Land

2006-05-25T07:58:00.000-07:00

It won’t be long before the USA falls into the control of McDonalds, and Mexico becomes a thriving democracy. I see myself running to the Mexican border only to be stopped by our own Wall. A net is cast and I fall to the ground entangled in a red and yellow lace. “Get your filthy paws off me you damn dirty Clown.”

“Okay, Vince.” He says. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for this?”
My captor knows who I am. My whole life history flashes on the inside of his helmet visor, linked in from a database that joins the Global Tracking System (GTS) signal radiating from the implant in my brain. No DNA required although that data is available too. No need for an ID chip--just a simple GTS node and a unique personal frequency.

I am dressed in nothing but a black pair of bikini underwear. “Why are you dressed like that?” He says.
“Why are you dressed like a Clown, you over-weight Mayor McCheese wannabe.” I reply.
“Okay, we know you’ve been blowing your tokens on underground rabbit meat. Now all you got left to your name is a pair of black floss. What’s wrong with our McBunny sandwich? It tastes better than a real rabbit. “
“It does NOT you freaky brainwashed cartoon character! It tastes more like a nutty synthetic pork chop, you sick pufnstuf!”
“Now we know better than to talk offensively, don’t we? You’re already banned from McMilk Shakes. I’m afraid you just jeopardized your McChocobar privileges.”

I’m stunned. He knows McChocobar is my weakness. That scumbag. So I plead, “You can’t take that away. That’s the only real food you got. You can’t take that away.”
“Well, what can you give me to make me forget this little incident?”
“What do you mean? You know all I got left is this old pair of floss. What do you want? “
“I want you to tell me who sells you the rabbit meat, the EuroChino Union will be obliged to you.”
“But I’m no fink. I can’t rat out on the only family I got left.”
“The Corporation is your only family: Remember that.”
“Okay, okay. Just wait a minute. Okay, it’s John McCain, our president. He’s the one. And he has a Spanish girlfriend on the side.”
“What? Damn! This information is useless to me, McCain has immunity you know.”
I take a shot, “I’m useless to you too, believe me. Let me go. Let me go to Mexico.”
Then I hear the magic words, “Okay Vince. Go! Go find your freedom. And toss me over a burrito every now and then will ya? And don’t miss the McChocobars too much. They're made of recycled Starbucks coffee cup holders anyway.”

Suddenly a realization. “Bless you my son. I heard legends about you--a direct descendant of Jesus and Mary Magdelene. But how do you pass detection?”
“It’s the food.” He shrugs. “It has altered my DNA so I’m no longer traceable; but how did you know it was me?”
“I recognized your sandals.”

I climb over the wall into Mexico with the help of a well placed eucalyptus tree. I drop down and see some old graffiti. It depicts Bush shaking hands with Ronald McDonald. The beginning of the end…

The Monkey King

2006-05-19T21:09:00.000-07:00

It’s a good day, but I sense it’s the last as life as I know it. I’m sitting in my spot, high above the camp overlooking my happy tribe. But I am uneasy, and not feeling as content as I do usually. Then I see him in the distance. This time he is not alone, he has five other ruffians with him. They move with fierce intent, building up their confidence along the way. Knocking over and challenging everything in their path--and they're moving rapidly and without pause.

My adrenaline is peaked and I put on a show of dominance as they arrive. But I am older now, and my display has left me a little exhausted. He has challenged me several times before and failed, but this day he is determined. He is young, strong, and relentless. Everyone watches in awe and horror. I am defeated within minutes and outcast into the jungle.

I’m shaking now. I peer through the leaves from afar and see him sitting in my spot, overlooking my tribe. The five hoodlums are already raping my daughters. Then my favorite wife comes up to him, bends over and offers him her posterior as a gesture of total submission. This is his reward. This is what he lived and fought for. What he was born to achieve. My other wives line up and follow suit. Like a string of harlots bowing down to the jungle while he samples them from behind.

Oh, what’s this dripping from my eyes? It’s clouding my vision. Everything is a watery blur and I can no longer see the terrible scene through the leaves. I’m still shaking. I feel numb and alone. I think of my mother who dreamed of me becoming King. But did she know this day would come? She had to.

If only I was smart enough to make a gun, then I would have had a fighting chance. But then, they would make guns too. Maybe I could have made something stronger like a bomb or a nuclear bomb! And just have made more bombs then they could. Then I would still be King.

I am alone, but not. Something is there with me, embracing me, healing me--but what? Who is out there watching me? How is he penetrating my soul with such loving warmth? My eyes fill with water again. But I hear the birds singing. I see some bananas and a clear flowing stream. I am so thirsty. There is life all around me. I see a path through the jungle, no doubt paved by a herd of elephants. If only I were smart enough to make a motor bike. Then I could ride the path and see where it takes me. That would be fun.

Postponed

2006-05-04T00:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I had to postpone my Butterfly Expedition to a future date. Unfortunately we arrived in Sydney on Easter Sunday, and someone had the bright idea of an Easter egg hunt. We thought it would be good practice for our butterfly hunt—so we took it on-- but it took us the full two weeks to find all the eggs. The stupid “someone” had hid them all over Sydney!

When I bumped shoulders with someone in Australia, they said, “Sorry mate.” In Asia, they would say nothing and keep on moving. I guess it’s so crowed in the cities there in Asia, that if you were to say “sorry” every time you bumped shoulders, you’d lose your voice before noon. In the US, when I bump shoulders with someone I have to get ready for a fight!

I quit smoking, but I had to try some Australian tobacco ( I was on vacation!) Their government warnings are much larger than in the US and it really gets in your face. That's a picture of a clogged artery on the bottom right. I’m telling you right now, that the tobacco company that labels their cigs “POISON” or “TOXIC” with a skull and crossbones logo to compliment the Government “SMOKING KILLS” label—then they will make a KILLING!!! I mean I would have bought 100 cartons of those. So if there are any Phillip Morris executives reading this; then hire me right now!!! I got more ideas that will help you make Big Oil look like child’s play, and the Black Death look like a minor flu bug!

Expedition:

2006-04-13T22:41:00.000-07:00

I’m headed off to Australia to lead an excursion party of renowned butterfly hunters in search of the famous Belenois Invisibilis (Invisible Butterfly)-- So I’ll be back in a few weeks. My journey will take me to the largest remaining sub-tropical rainforest in the world—The Australian “outback”.

The transparent butterfly seen here is a direct descendant of Belenois Invisibilis, which roam the outback near the forest floor. Where there are transparent butterflies, there are Belenois Invisibilis’.

The only known photo of an invisible butterfly is seen here on this flower. One has never been taken into captivity. I hope to capture one towards the end of my expedition because their lifespan is only 5 days, and I want to show it off while it’s still alive.

It will be a tough hunt, because they are 99% invisible. Only their food and feces are visible, so we will be tracking their droppings, which are rather small, about the size of this dot (.)

I am equipped with a magnifying glass, butterfly net, safari gear and saddle bags, and my Crocodile Dundee outfit (I want to look cool in case I run into Jungle Jane in the bush.) I will meet my team at 0600 hours Sunday, and after a boiled egg breakfast to celebrate Easter, we will begin our journey.

I plan to sell my bounty on eBay, and donate the proceeds to my 'lint louse' expedition fund (my next project.) Wish me luck, and bon voyeurism!

Easter Bunny Shot:

2006-04-12T00:16:00.000-07:00

(rooters/file/Eson Eggheart) Rooter’s Press is following up on a disturbing report that Dick Cheney accidentally shot the Easter Bunny last Friday at his home in Washington D.C.

Witnesses say the bunny was found in Cheney’s vegetable garden, after a loud ‘boom’ was heard. The bunny was still holding a basket of eggs, and could not be revived. Cheney claims to have never touched a gun since he shot his friend in the face a couple months ago. He refuses further comment.

Pope (eggs) Benedict XVI elects a new bunny and ensures Easter will go on as usual.

Crispy Heads:

2006-04-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

The ‘Crispy Head’ goes on sale this month in Louisiana. The trial period will focus initially on select fast food outlets in an area where Cajuns have been demanding this delicacy for years. There is not much meat, but the tongue is absolutely delicious, and the brains taste like chestnuts—you’ll need a nut cracker.

An acquaintance of mine, who speaks chicken, is seen here consoling his pet ‘Peckerwood’. Since he lives in Louisiana, he plans to make Peckerwood lose weight so he perhaps can fly away if they come after him, or at least look too skinny to fry. He’s just feeding him chicken feed now until he loses 72 ounces and takes flying lessons. His other option is to shave Peckerwood’s Mohawk, pluck him, over-feed him, and maybe he can pass as a pig. But pigs have their own worries…

Thursday Thirteen: can't believe I'm doing this

2006-04-06T22:51:00.000-07:00

Thirteen Things about Vinny

1. I think this TT thing is a cult!
2. And it’s for women.
3. But I’m doing it just to experience the technology.
4. See, I can cheat and write anything I want!!!
5. And nobody cares! Hahaha!
6. I like motorcycles.
7. I like food of all kinds.
8. procrastinating—should be working.
9. I’m going to Australia next week.
10. Prostitution is legal there, but I won’t partake.
11. I’m a Conservative, but all the political tests I take say I’m a liberal?
12. I think I’m a junk food addict.
13. I think all children are beautiful—why do we have to grow up?

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2006-04-06T00:26:00.000-07:00

Who wants a dismembered body? I would want nothing less than the the full body version. (functional)

Good start, but the ultimate model would be non-transparent except a small slit. This way a couple can be a couple anywhere under an umbrella made for two.

I dated a girl who wore butter perfume once. At least I think it was perfume...

Celebrity Spotlight:

2006-03-29T23:03:00.000-08:00

A life size sculpture of Britney Spears giving birth: 'Monument to Pro-Life: (AP Photo/Daniel Edwards)

Top Ten public responses overheard at first showing:

Doesn’t she have to be underwater for that position to be affective?
Pro-Life?--obviously not for the bear.
I would have paid to watch him mold her. Nasty!
Is this conception or childbirth?
I’d name it Pale Rider! Yeah!
Is there something coming out of the other end?
Mommy, is she a bear woman?
Does the bear sing?
I don’t know what to say; I mean no shoes, no handbag?

And the Number One response:

How can I get one of these in rubber?

For real though, did she have to pose for this?!?

Spiritless Ghosts:

2006-03-28T19:34:00.000-08:00

Researchers in Denmark claim to have cloned the first batch of Poltergeists. “Unlike ‘real’ Poltergeists, these clones are ‘soulless’, and not subject to Human or Animal Rights laws.”

These clones can move objects, or perform any simple physical duty you train it to. The potential benefit to mankind is unreal—here are a few projects already in progress:

--Poltergeist Pets: No mess, no loud barking, no veterinary costs.

--Poltergeist Companions: Won’t complain if you smoke; won’t take up a seat on the subway; endless electrifying, and safe sex; undetectable affairs; won’t eat your food; can be trained for simple tasks such as picking your nose and wiping your butt.

--Poltergeist tool set: Crafty Ghost can turn screws and nuts. Snake Ghost can clean out stopped drainage without caustic chemicals or a plumber; Garden Ghost can zap bugs to keep your garden healthy.

--Political Poltergeist: Tapper Ghost can infiltrate any location without need for warrant or wire tapping.

--Ordained Poltergeists: Can exorcize real Poltergeists without need of a Priest.

Critics warn the unholy alliance with Poltergeists can only lead to trouble and open a Pandora’s Box. “By God, these entities can be sent via email! Life has a way of ‘finding a way’, and it won’t be long before these spiritless clones learn to perhaps ‘steal’ souls and propagate.”

Sewer Main Lobsters:

2006-03-25T23:53:00.000-08:00

MAIN (Rooters) - Sewer Main Lobsters (SMLs) have invaded the Northeast. A Hybrid of Main Lobsters, these lobsters are unisex, super aggressive, and chirp like a cricket. “They eat their dead, so we didn't even know they existed until recently, and now it’s too late—it is estimated they number in the billions.”

The problem is this subspecies has discoverd they can crawl up the toilets and nip off penises, which are an apparent delicacy to them.

“We must nip this problem in the butt." Homeland Security has developed a system that will keep toilet water at a steady boil. This new toilet is expected to wean SMLs from penises in a matter of months. The added benefit is a built in humidifier along with a sanitizer making it possible to transfer trapped lobsters directly to the dinner plate, fully cooked and ready for consumption.

“The SML toilets will be provided free of charge thanks to special sponsors: Members Only, Johnson & Johnson, and Der Weinersnitchel.” But opponents to Homeland Security warn that the boiler toilet will solve nothing! “It’s only a matter of time before a heat resistant strain of SMLs evolve. But the real fear is they are already capable of surviving for months out of water, and seem to have an unlimited capacity for growth, enabling them to snip even the largest penises. "They will just by-pass the toilet and jack you when you sleep. We recommend a stainless steel penis muzzle that attaches via a testicle harness--to be worn at ALL times.”

May Freedom Come:

2006-03-22T23:37:00.000-08:00

What if Dr. Martin Luther King were alive today? Would he fight for our Civil Liberties as he fought for our Civil Rights? Maybe!

--Civil Rights involve Government ensuring equal treatment and focuses on who you are.

--Civil Liberties involve Government balancing our freedoms with order and focuses on what you do.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equally free of the bondage of the BAN." I have a dream that one day on the concrete hills of New York the sons of former victims of the BAN and the sons of former lawmakers will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood and smoke and drink spirits if they want to. I have a dream that one day even the state of California, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of communism and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the smoke they intake, or the SUV they drive, or the guns they own, or the seat belts they choose not to wear; but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring." And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring without the chains of the helmet law. Let freedom ring without the signs that segregate smokers from non-smokers. Let freedom ring without BANS on abortion or BANS on Fourth of July fireworks, or BANS on the internet. Let freedom ring for all suppressed brothers and sisters. Let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every county and every town, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, Smokers and Non-smokers, Junk food eaters and Vegetarians, gas powered lawn mower owners and electric lawn mower owners, prostitutes and virgins, drinkers and non-drinkers, motorcyclists and automobilists, drug users and non-drug users, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old spiritual, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Sad Sac—Casino:

2006-03-19T02:17:00.000-08:00

So Saturday, I took a day trip to the Casino. I arrive at the Cache Creek Indian Casino feeling kind of out of sorts after blowing away a Mustang on the way over in my Audi race car. I had thought it wanted to race and punched my turbo V8 to a 140 mph, leaving the Mustang in the dust. Seconds later my victory melted away as I sat stuck behind a stop sign and the Mustang caught up to me. The old lady behind the wheel did not look too impressed. And there was that blue handicap tag hanging from her rear view mirror.

But I try to leave that all behind me as I walk into the Casino. I switch into John Travolta mode and strut to the water fountain feeling cool and thirsty. I’m also intelligent and whip out my leather coin purse to shield me from the inevitable shock at the fountain. I notice there are women watching and imagine them noticing my wit and cleverness at the fountain. But I hear a “spack” and see sparks as I feel a sharp pain voltage into my tongue forcing my body to spasm and let out a very non-masculine shriek. And my coin purse falls to the floor spilling six months worth of spare change. Not a very cool sight to behold.

So I order a chilidog and lemonade from the Deli bar and the cute girl at the counter hands me my cup and says I am number #1. (my call number) So I say, “Yes I am!” But I only say half of it because when I expertly flicked my cup up in a summersault, it hits my nose and falls to the floor. Damn! I refuse a replacement cup.

I’m at a slot machine and very hot filly sits next to me. I try to act cool and flip out a smoke. I hope she notices my cool new lighter in the shape of a stack of poker chips, that matched my World Series Poker shirt. She asks me, “Are you going to smoke?” I’m thinking, “Okay, I got a cig in my mouth, and lighter in hand, what the f__k does she think I’m going to do?” All I could say was, “Yes.” So she gives me a dirty look and scoots out of there!?! I’m like WTF? The whole place is festering in smoke? What the hell?

So I can’t let these events spoil my fun, so I decide to cool off and plan what I should do next. So I’m standing in a safe place scoping the joint and a security gal yells at me, “No smoking here!!!” Everybody around looks at me like I’m some sort of public offender! “Oh, I didn’t see the sign. Where is the sign?” She points to a small eligible sign behind me. I say, “Oh.” And move THREE feet to my right where there is an ash tray!!! “Is here okay?” --Now I’m looking around and there is smoke EVERYWHERE! My eyes are stinging with smoke. People with cigs that walk through the 6 feet of non-smoking space are okay because they are moving. Again, there is smoke EVERYWHERE! But I get yelled at—sheesh!

So I go outside and light up. I realize my shoulders are getting stiff and I feel a headache coming on. But it was beautiful out there and I start to relax a little. I’m watching some workers plant these bushes. I put out the cig on the ground and a worker stares at me and says, “That’s a fire hazard sir, can you pick that up?” I notice the bushes are all dead and extremely flammable looking. I say, “Oh, sorry.” and pick up the butt. “Why are you guys planting all these dead weeds for anyway?” He said, “I dunno, it’s the look they wanted I guess.”

There is a fire burning across the street in a prairie looking field. I look to my left and there are two fire engines up on a small hill next the Casino doing absolutely nothing about it. Then I notice these guys are in training and there are four firemen in full gear moving up the hill with a stretcher. It takes them like five minutes to move six feet man, then one guy slips and the stretcher spills to the left onto the ground. I’m thinking, “What kind of world do I live in? Is everyone insane? Fumbling firemen, dead weeds, anti-smokers, old handicapped ladies driving Mustangs, water fountains that can kill, and enforcing a non-smoking section that’s absolutely deluged in smoke? ”

So I go to the buffet and have a ton of oysters, a steak, prime-rib, goat meat, eight desserts, five cokes, egg rolls, fruit, pizza, mashed potatoes and gravy, French toast with lots of syrup, salami, sausage, coffee, champagne, ice cream and some unknown food. I tip BIG!

Afterwards I am happy again and on a corner slot. A hot girl is sitting on a slot facing me with her legs parted open in a manner that would make the Pope look twice. Her tight jeans were shouting out to be noticed. She looked me in the eye for a second than her eyes locked onto my stomach. At this time I realize I am carrying around a beach ball under my shirt. I can’t even suck in a millimeter. It feels like it is expanding like someone is pumping helium into it. It must have been the oysters or something. My face felt flushed and something moved inside me as gases began to export from every possible opening. Her expression became concerned, and that was my cue to head for the bathroom which was just beyond the crap tables. I made it to a stall okay, but the janitor was working on the toilet next to mine which over flowed and brown water rushed into my stall all over my shoes. I heard someone say, “Oh, shit!” and minutes later a yellow sign was placed in front of MY door! When I got out, everyone thought I was the one who had an accident!!! Damn!

So I’m by my car ready for my journey home. I’m admiring two shiny Harleys that parked right next to me. Then, all of a sudden, two guys rush to the bikes admiring them too, and then start digging through the saddlebags??? They seem aggressive and indiscriminately rampage through the Harley owner’s stuff. I get very offended because I have a bike and know that you just don’t mess with someone’s ride. Then I heard myself shout out at them, “What the f__k you doin’ man, get the f__k outta here!” Big Mistake! I mean I’m six one at 240, but these guys were both even bigger, and meaner, and harder and were no doubt stronger than oxen. They turned and glared at me with eyes that said, “You’re already dead brother!” And it was just then I realized the colors they were pullin’ out of the saddle bags were that of an infamous outlaw motorcycle club (name not given to protect my ass.) And worse, I realized those were THEIR own bikes man!!! So I quickly pointed to the cell phone which thank GOD I had in my hand, and indicated I was talking to someone on the phone. I turned away and continued to yell in my phony remote microphone, “I told you not to do me like that!” I walked back to the Casino shouting profanities at my pretend caller and holding an invisible fake earphone to my ear. I never turned back. And I hid inside the Casino doors until they were gone…

It's only now I question why they did not wear their colors in the Casino. My only guess is it was either too hot, or they were trying to avoid trouble, or had met with clueless parents, or something? But there had to have been a good excuse not to wear their colors with pride and respect...P.S. If you happen to be the riders reading this post--I was just trying to protect someone's ride man. And you were dressed like cagers (someone who drives a car.) so I thought those were not your bikes! Nice bikes btw. Solid rides man.

Evolving Plant Life:

2006-03-17T00:13:00.001-08:00

The Eatamongus plant eats small birds and rodents, but prefers cheeseburgers and table scraps--makes a fine 'no maintenance' pet, but not recommended for vegetarians.

The Vampirus Oclitorus plant (or Swallow Plant) relies entirely on the human male for pollination. And it feeds by pricking the male organ with small teeth hidden under her lips, and sucks the blood much like a vampire bat. Because this creates a pleasant tingle and win-win situation, this plant is also one of the most intelligent. But intelligence comes at a price--90% of these plants are now obese and owners are asked not to feed them so much.

The Dillydo plant is an outdoor plant. But now totally dependent on the human female for pollination, it is on the verge of extinction. The idea was that the seed is injected into the woman’s saliva during pollination. Then wherever she spits, a new plant will grow. But nowadays more and more women are just swallowing the seed. Or taking the fruit indoors for personal use before fully ripe--makes a good St. Patrick's Day gift.

PETA in the news:

2006-03-14T13:54:00.000-08:00

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) attacked Ketchup makers and have called for a ban on Ketchup/Catsup, claiming that the process to make Ketchup indiscriminately kills tomato worms—“The Ketchup plants do not weed out the worms, and they are tossed into the mixing vats along with the tomatoes. At least 30% of Ketchup is worm meat, so they also violate claims that it is a vegetarian food.”

PETA also claims that eating too much Ketchup can lead to an uncontrollable drive to stretch your neck using gold plated onion rings.

But PETA's boldest claim, is that eating Ketchup is a form of cannibalism.—“Recent studies indicate that Brontosaurs were originally large worms that sprouted legs when they got too fat. Their skeletal structure is remarkably similar to Humans, indicating Humans are the direct descendants of these worms, and it’s a shame we continue to so callously devour our ancestors” said PETA spokesperson Rex Ringleworm.

Land of the Lost Sea Creatures:

2006-03-10T03:29:00.000-08:00

This photo released Tuesday March 7, 2006 shows the first documented crab with fur, discovered at an undisclosed location.

It’s so cold there, even the fish have fur.

Dog fish found there in air pockets of underwater caverns, can actually walk and breathe air. This fish was caught before a swarm of flying feathered fish chased the explorers out of the cave. She looks like an actual dog, but her poop is white and furry, and smells fishy. She has a tail fin, and is now the new lead for the "Who let the dogs out" canine synchronized swim team.

Travel Alert: South Dakota

2006-03-06T15:43:00.000-08:00

The CDC put out an emergency travel alert for South Dakota after a law was approved to institute forced slavery among women:

A new law will force women to nourish, nurture, take care of, and financially provide for unwanted babies forcibly injected into their bodies, affectively making all females potential slaves, and fair game for any parasitic entity that needs a Host body for their demon seed to grow.

“Be very careful when traveling to South Dakota, especially if you’re a woman—avoid if possible—no quarantine of South Dakota will be provided by our government.”

Warning: Increased chatter reveals extensive movement towards South Dakota of the following, who intend to capitalize on the new law to propagate their offspring:

Rapists
Murderers
Hell spawned Demons
War Mongers
Cannibals
Perverts
Lepers
Terrorists
Evil Aliens
Werewolves
Hillbillies from Dirtyback Mountain
Peewee Herman and his Gang of Wankers

“A woman’s body is no longer her own. The State Government has taken it hostage and stamped it as a piece of meat to be abused as a culture to grow any seed that invades it. “

Synchronized Swimming: The Bad Apple of Olympic Sports.

2006-02-28T13:39:00.000-08:00

A rare look at the most controversial sport in Olympic History: (Inspired by Jungle Jane)

1.) The whole thing began with a duck! Kings forced performers to strap ducks to their heads and swim around for entertainment. But eventually they became the first “Sitting Ducks” when a King took up a spear for some real sport.

2.) Then in 1907 a girl bought a ballerina suit and a giant fish bowl. She developed a dancing fish act and traveled the Globe for 25 years before she disappeared in the Mermaid Riots of 1932.

3.) The underwater ballerina act evolved into the most undefined, controversial and segmented sport in history. The Lesbian National Aquatic league, for example, is scored not only on beauty, but the number of synchronized climaxes they can achieve in a 5 minute period.

4.) The Brownie Troop Ornamental Swimming Team features young teens in full brownie uniform. They rise to the surface feet first and their skirts fall to the water like Lilly pads, exposing white bulbous panties and long young virgin legs that slowly spread open into full flower for all to admire.

5.) The Punk Rock Water Acrobatics Team has a colorful act, but the team was marred last month when excessive thrashing sequences, two drownings, bloody waters, and three missing bodies rattled the audience—the shark was simply a bad idea.

6.) The sport also inspired illegal underwater Horse races. I actually attended one of these events and my girlfriend had a chance to meet the winning horse. But the horse didn’t appear happy, so she tried to comfort him—“You are the Champion …so why the long face?”

7.) A prison recently sanctioned the first Synchronized Football League – featuring burley inmates in elaborate floral huddle formations, synchronized spinning pass patterns and flower plays, all to the music of the “Nutcracker Suite”. Judged not by number of touch downs, but by the artistic and electrifying manner in which they are executed!!!

8.) Today, men are still prohibited from the Synchronized Swimming games in the Olympics--And rightfully so I might add. I mean if they ever get allowed, then what message will it send? Like what will be next? Girls in the NFL? Coed bathrooms? Free sex in the streets? ...uh...Well then, maybe we ought to at least give it a go, eh? What can it hurt?

9.) Over 85% of men polled admit wanking it to Synchronized Swimming more often than any other sport.

10.) The all male Chip & Dale Aquatic Team put on a Royal exhibition for the new Princess of Wales, depicting the Iron Man Submarine Battle of WWII. Microphones amplified the battle scenes and intensified the underwater explosions. But the explosions were farts man. And you could see the bubbles rise up. And when a sub was destroyed, a butt would float to the surface with a Daisy sticking out the arse!!!
The surface torpedoes were neat, but the periscope sequence had all the ladies fighting for the opera glasses. Young girls fainted. The Princess fainted too, and totally missed the grand finale with the sperm whale. The show is banned now in 192 countries and “Blow-hole” has since become a dirty word.

Top 10 Figure Skating Facts:

2006-02-25T22:53:00.000-08:00

10.) Figure skating is the only sport where the most sought after photos are crouch shots.

9.) No butt ugly contestant has ever won a gold metal in figure skating.

8.) Sex acts between couples are judged as part of the sport. Exotic sex acts win points while penalties occur if the acts are too raunchy and basically a turn off.

7.) Fifty percent of the sport is about sex; however you get penalized if your outfit is too sexy?

6.) Only sport where the viewing of soft porn is deemed suitable for young children, and where young children are actually encouraged to participate.

5.) A gay couple has never won a gold metal in figure skating--yet.

4.) More affairs between coach and athlete occur in figure skating, than all other sports combined.

3.) More sexual abuse cases between coach and athlete happen in figure skating than all other sports put together.

2.) Only sport where a man can reach up under a woman's dress and grab her crouch, flip her into a 69 with his face between her legs and her face in his crouch, push her to her knees and hold her face against his crouch, grind his crouch against her crouch, cup her breasts, fondle her butt, put her face against his butt, jam his nose in her butt, place his crouch in her butt, rest his face on her bossism, rub his body all up and down hers then turn her over and do it from behind, and finally kiss her on the lips after the routine--then win a gold metal.

And the number 1.) fact about figure skating: It’s the only sport I really want to play, but can’t--Every time I even try to GRAB a girl for a pick-up game, I just get slapped away!?!

Dakota Burning

2006-02-25T20:17:00.000-08:00

The photo above is that of a sperm as seen through a common microscope. You can‘t really see it because it is too small, and I did not have an electron microscope handy.

The following is a script for a play entitled, “ Dakota Burning “
CHARACTERRS: South Dakota Legislature (SDL); Rape Victim (RV)
LOCATION: South Dakota Discovery Court of Humanity

SDL: As your entrusted servants and protectors, we will be passing a new law making abortion a crime even in circumstances of rape.
RV: So if I kill this sperm, then it is murder?
SDL: Yes.
RV: But people kill billions of sperm every time they use a condom and billions more with spermicidal jelly (Chemical weapon of mass destruction) How about that?
SDL: Murdering sperm is allowed, as long as it does not reach home base. That is if it reaches the egg, then it attains diplomatic immunity and becomes human. So if you kill it on home base, then it is murder and you get 5 years in prison.
RV: But South Dakota has the death penalty for murder, it seems this sperm is not given equal consideration as other humans, this is discrimination.
SDL: You are correct; we will make sure the law is changed so that if you kill said sperm, then the penalty is death.
RV: But this sperm is unwanted and if left in will shatter my life and my family’s lives, while the Devil rapist only gets two years prison out on parole in one? You’re telling me if I rip out this hell spawned sperm that no one can even see, an invisible Demon seed that was forcibly injected into me without my consent in a brutal violent rape, then it will be a crime, and you will have the right to hunt me down and murder me?
SDL: As your entrusted protector and servant, absolutely, and in addition to murdering you, we also reserve the right to call you a dirty filthy whore.
RV: But these rules are terrible: I’m allowed to murder all the sperm I want, unless it has reached home base. Then you’re allowed to call me names, and murder me for murdering an invisible sperm? I don’t know if murder is right or wrong anymore. I feel helpless, I feel as though I want to take up arms and revolt against you.
SDL: Precisely why we also have designs to ban guns and render you completely powerless to act against us in such a manner. Of course, we ourselves will retain our right to bear arms.
RV: But you must have mercy! At least give me a fighting chance like you did for the invisible sperm. At least allow me the same consideration as the demon sperm, and give me a home base that gives me immunity from your murderous death hunt.
SDL: Seems fair enough, so in all good will, as your protectors and servants, we will christen Abortion clinics as your home base for immunity.
RV: Thank you kind sirs. So if I and all women of South Dakota become certified abortionists, then we can make every home in our state an Abortion clinic. And we can perform home abortions, and be immune to your death hunts. Correct?
SDL: Technically, yes…
RV: So why even bother with this law you really can’t enforce?
SDL: We don’t have to.
RV: What do you mean?
SDL: We will simply outsource our police staff to mercenaries from the United Arab Emirates, who will have diplomatic immunity to kill you for us, home base or not!
RV: Scumbags!
SDL: As your humble protectors and servants, we will always find a way to punish you, hunt you down, and kill you where you sleep.
--end--

Funeez 2

2006-02-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

Life in the Bush

2006-02-22T21:31:00.000-08:00

This is a Durango—originally good for life in the bush, and then evolved for life on a motorcycle. Notice the blunt toe.

This is a Dingo--a wild bush dog native of Australia. Notice the big mouth. This puppy hunts rabbits and Kangaroos for a living and can leave any full grown domestic dog left standing in a pool of his own piss. This species actually evolved from a single pregnant domestic dog from Indonesia 5000 years ago--A classic example of Reverse-Evolution.

This is a Dingbat—Notice the big blunder. Also thought to be a descendent of a single pregnant domestic Bush dog, this example of Reverse-Evolution is native of the USA, and hunts Ladens, Husseins, and an occasional quail. As leader of his Pack, he is the Alfa. His second in command really has no importance, but they are leaders known for their aggression and can leave any natural enemy left standing in a pool of his own blood--And their Friends too--especially on a quail hunt!

Funeez

2006-02-20T12:48:00.000-08:00

Top Ten:

2006-02-20T02:39:00.000-08:00

What pops into your mind when you see this picture?

Top Ten responses:

10. Discos are “in” right now in Italy--so are boots

9. Austin is not necessary in any of his movies.
8. Everyone is beautiful on the inside. But when it spreads to the outside, then it’s more noticeable.
7. If I were gay, I’d be a lesbian.
6. So what if a blond can’t dial 9-11 because she can’t find the eleven on her cell phone—she’ll always have enough guys around to dial it for her.
5. Abortion is just wrong.
4. Hey, I have a red suit just like that!
3. You can dance the Mambo without moving.
2. It's a myth that Austin lost his Mojo—Impossible!
1. Who's bright idea was it to clone Dr. Evil?

Karma and Valentine's Day

2006-02-14T22:12:00.000-08:00

This is a photo of Clinton and I at a fund raiser in Washington DC in 2003. Actually Clinton is shaking my hand in gratitude because I informed him of the large bugger in his nose. His hand was sticky, but I had some sanitary wipes in my pocket. We talked a little and he gave me some advice and I told him he ought to lay off the carrots for a while, and maybe avoid getting stuck alone in the men’s room with Howard Dean.

Anyway, it was Valentine’s Day, and I had to leave early to catch a plane to New York for a fashion show. So I rushed back to my room at the Watergate Hotel, changed, grabbed a sandwich at the deli, and caught my limo to the airport.

But the limo driver said he had to make one quick stop at the United Arab Emirates Embassy to pick up a few more people.

When we arrived at the Embassy, a sheikh (looking similar to the one in the photo) and his female companion wearing a beautifully sequenced veil adorned with gold chains sat opposite me. I immediately felt uneasy because I knew the presence and aroma of my Memphis style shredded pork shoulder sandwich might offend them. Their eyes immediately confirmed my suspicion, but I was hungry and took a big bite while sounding out my pleasure. The woman said in broken English, “That is disgraceful!” I replied spontaneously, “What? It’s just a sandwich; you’re the one who has to hide under a veil.” (rude, I know.)

But I talk with my hands, and the swing of my sandwich let fly a piece of pork that landed on her lap. She screamed and stood up to rid of the offending meat, and her head hit the ceiling, then her face came crashing down onto my crouch. Somehow the gold chains on the top part of her veil over her forehead got caught in my fancy belt buckle. She was stuck, and yelling something in Arabic. The sheikh came forward and reached for my crouch to help her untangle it but I brought my hand up for him to stop and warded him off with my sandwich, "I may eat pork, but I’m not gay, please stay away." (not that there is anything wrong with being gay, or for that matter, being a sheikh, or wearing a veil.)

Just then, four other sheikhs came into the limo, and there was a loud exchange as the first sheikh explained in Arabic why his companion was on her knees with her head in my crouch. The limo shoved off, but we were all still in chaos. I tried to relieve the tension by suggesting we all just calm down, let me finish my sandwich, and then we can think this through. The sheikh said, “No finishing sandwich!” So I asked if someone could hold my sandwich so I could try to fix it and they all just glared at me, no one wanting to come near the pork. Then I asked the girl if she could hold it and she shouted, “No, get it away from me!”

Then at that moment, the sight of the female between my legs sunk into my mind. And along with the vibration of her voice against my loins, something was triggered within the depths of my manhood. A process I knew may be difficult to stop. So I quickly put the sandwich on the shelf behind me and tried to untangle the chain. But I couldn't, it seemed impossible. And the way it was jammed, I could not even remove my belt. I said to the girl, “Can you just take off your veil?” She looked up into my eyes and yelled out, “NO!” Then her eyes widened as we both realized I had become fully emancipated.

With the sandwich no longer in my hand, I had nothing to ward of the Sheikh, who quickly made his way to my pants and worked to jar the chain loose. He failed and sank back into his seat exasperated. The girl had lost all energy to hold her head up, and relaxed it on the only place she could. I had to distract myself, so I looked back at my pork sandwich but it had spilled open and become uneatable. The sheikh looked at me and said, “You know, eating pork is foul. Each time you eat pork you are doing harm, and become in debt to Karma! A debt that has to, and will be repaid!” Just then, answering for me in spite and irony and for all to witness, my spasms forced the girls head slightly up and then down as if something was trying to escape from a hatch below. Exhausted, the girl released a surrendering sigh and the sheikh resigned to an incredulous stupor.

Trying to divert attention from the spectacle, I said, “I can cut the belt off, does anyone have a knife or a box cutter?” I guess not, because the sheikh just stared at me with daggers in his eyes. So I suggested I take off my shirt, and put it over her head so she can unveil and get a better angle of it. They seemed to like the idea but had doubts if I would somehow be able to steal a peek at her face. So I offered to even blindfold myself to make double sure there was no way for me to see. One Sheikh actually had a blindfold in his pocket, so we were in luck.

The girl was still quite liberally struggling under the shirt when we arrived at the airport. My mouth had contoured into an expression of pain as I desperately battled to suppress the flow of life trying to find a way out. The Sheikh yelled out the window at two airport policeman for a knife. The cops did not understand his broken English the first time, so he opened the door and yelled again, “We have a knife!” He should have said, “Can we have a knife” or “we need a knife.” Because all the police saw was a car load of angry Arabs, and me sitting there blindfolded, apparently in pain, and wearing a wife-beater tee-shirt--not to mention the added confusion of a girl on her knees working on my crouch under a shirt. Needless to say, none of us made our flights that day…

Moral of the story: The more constraints we impose on ourselves and others, the more indebt we become to Karma. And that debt must always be repaid.

Marshmallows Banned:

2006-02-13T00:37:00.000-08:00

Marshmallows were banned from Augar Elementary school in Holland after an eight year old girl was shot in the nose with a Marshmallow gun. “We take any aggression seriously. In this case, we’re going after the ammo as well as the delivery method,” said, Augar Security Director Ivan Lastermudd.

Some parents demanded that their children be allowed to use marshmallows in school for medicinal purposes; for their healing properties. But this notion was shot down by Augar lawyers. “Modern day marshmallows are no longer made from the Mallow plant root (found in marshes) and have no healing properties. They are now made of sugars, gelatin and gum.” Said Lastermudd. “We proudly suspended a third grader last week for refusing to wear his Marshmallow man tee-shirt inside-out when requested by teachers. We have a Zero-Tolerance policy for marshmallows, and this kind of rebellious behavior will not be tolerated.”

Also banned, was this marshmallow sucker. “The eyes can be bitten out and used as ammo. And we don’t condone the idea of children sucking on impaled heads. This marshmallow model also comes on a longer stick so the heads can be burnt over a fire before eaten—really sick if you think about it,” said Lastermudd.

Blue Star: Part 2

2005-12-07T03:31:00.000-08:00

Part 1 is in the October Archives...

Adrian was surprised when Kidd showed up in a Black Lexus SUV, and sporting a pair of slacks and a sport coat. But his new look still matched his seemingly adventurous lifestyle. They met in front of a Target store at 10am. It was Kidd’s idea—some odd gesture of chivalry or polite dating, as not to impose the pressures of disclosing private addresses at such an early stage in courtship. And meeting at the KFC would have been a tacky unimaginative suggestion. In lieu of flowers, Kidd presented Adrian with a new pair of ‘Eagle Eyes’ sunglasses—another off-beat surprise.

Adrian did not look pretty. She was beautiful. Adorned in a very low cut white dress with matching white heels, a light blue sweater, and the most eye catching necklace Kidd had ever seen; dangling on a silver chain was a light blue gemstone pendant at least an inch and a half in diameter. It sparkled like a huge 25 carat blue diamond. And when Adrian slid onto the soft leather ivory seat, she did so as if riding side saddle, with a grace and manner of a princess. This did not go unnoticed by Kidd, whose eyes immediately looked down and got stuck on pause.
“What are you looking at?” The gentle lady said, transforming into a modern day woman and effectively hitting play. Kidd looked up and apologetically replied, “Sorry, I was envious of your legs, compared to my own that I have to cover up with slacks to hide the horror beneath.”

Twenty minutes into their trip to San Francisco, Adrian pulls a 360 on all of Kidd’s glamorous plans for time out in the City. “Let’s go to Disneyland instead.” She said chuckling. “What?” Kidd replied, showing a hint of annoyance at being trumped, and knowing he would basically agree to anything she wanted.
“We can drive down today, and go tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” Her eyes sparkled as she stared at her invisible plans floating between her and the windshield.
Kidd heaved a sigh. “Sounds pretty good I guess, haven’t been to Disneyland in a while.” Adrian beamed a smile and Kidd added, “But I have a better idea. We’re half way to SFO already. We can take my leer jet and be in L.A. in less than an hour. Better yet, we can fly into Santa Barbara; spend the day there instead of wasting it driving. Then we can hop into Orange County tonight and hit the town, and recuperate in Disneyland tomorrow.” Kidd glanced at Adrian and raised an eyebrow, fishing for an approval. Adrian sat and looked at Kidd quizzically. Leer Jet? What kind of guy is this Kidd anyway?
“Okay. I can’t believe this?” Adrian said, incredulously. “I love Santa Barbara. You have a jet? You can fly?”
“Yup, ever since I was a kid I wanted to have a plane. After I read about the Hardy Boy’s flying their father’s Cessna. Fenton Hardy was the father.”
“I didn’t read the Hardy Boys. I only read Nancy Drew, and I read one of that other book, what was it? Umm…Oh yeah, Tom Swift!”
“I can’t believe you read a Tom Swift book,” Kidd said, surprised. “I thought only guys read that book. I had like 20 Tom Swift books.”
“Well, I was a Tom Boy as a kid, no pun intended…The book I read was about pirates in the sky or something. I think they ought to have a modern day version of Tom Swift.”
“Yeah, I read that one too. It was Pirates on an Asteroid or something. It would be cool if Steven Spielberg took over writing a new Tom Swift series.”
“Ha ha!” Adrian laughed.
Adrian gazed at Kidd and gave him a long level look. It seemed like a life time ago since last she felt this comfortable talking with anyone.

…To be continued.

Hmm...

2005-11-30T01:21:00.000-08:00

Red stains are seen running from the left eye of a statue of the Virgin Mary at the Vietnamese Catholic Martyrs Church in Sacramento, Calif., Tuesday, Nov. 22, 2005. According to Anthony Nguyen, a deacon at the Church, the stains first appeared more than a week ago, but they were wiped away. The stains reappeared a week later. Visitors have been flocking to the church to see what many call 'a miracle.'(AP Photo/Rich Pedroncelli)

So what do you think?

My thoughts:

Looks like the eye brows, lashes and outline of the eyes have been painted--probably just the oil base of the paint leaking.
One tear appears to be coming from above the eye--who cries from there?
Don't people cry from both eyes?
The janitor may be playing games.

Okay, let's say the tears are real:

I would like to see the DNA report on it.
Why is she crying, because of all the violence in the world? Or because religion is on a decline?
Or because she is made of stone and has an itch she can't scratch?
Or tired of being a Virgin (forgive me if you're real Mary.)
Why cry red tears? Seems devilish.
And I figure a Saint would be above crying, no?
Reminds me of that Indian who cries when he sees the polluted river. Makes you feel sad, I figure she ought to make us feel good instead.
And why is a tear such a miracle? Maybe if she started floating in mid air, then I would visit.

Anyway, I still believe in miracles, and pray we all can have one.

Catalina Coup

2005-11-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

The Communist Party Central Committee (CPCC) has publicly revealed a new World threat: Intelligent Cats. The Cat shown here, Son Lik Paa is the King of Hearts on the CPCC watch list. Working out of North Korea, this Cat is thought to be part of a world wide ring of intelligent cats thought responsible for artificially spreading the Bird Flu world wide.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), Son Lik Paa and other Cat gang leaders are believed to have the intelligence of 10 year olds. “This has extraordinary implication”, says WHO’s international director Mark Hamm. “Humans have geniuses, and so do animals. What this means is that these cats are capable of a dangerous level of thinking, communication, organization, and emotion.”

After thousands of years of cat consumption in Asia, Son Lik Paa has had enough. His underground is responsible for freeing at least 2 million doomed cats per year from being served on the dinner plate.

Meow Tse Tung, shown here, is the Ace of Spades working out of Beijing. He is purported to understand 7 languages/Chinese dialects, including Burmese, Taiwanese, Shanghinese, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Haka. The Center of disease Control (CDC) has labeled him the mastermind behind the spread of the Bird Flu to Canada and soon the United States. He lost his entire family at a New Years banquette celebration when he was just a kitten. Meow Tse Tung can actually write Chinese characters faster than humans by using his five claw nails simultaneously rather than one brush stroke at a time. Chinese is easy for him because he just needs ink, and it looks like cat scratch anyway. He has written to the Chinese newspapers with his intent to win by numbers. He reveals he has organized cat breeding facilities, and claims there are now at least 10 billion cats in China under his command. “There will be no negotiation.” Writes Meow Tse Tung. “You will be punished for your practice of Cat Rights Violations. We have allied with our sworn enemies, the Birds. And we have harnessed the power of the Bird Flu.”

“What’s scary,” says CIA director John Smith, “is that these cats have no intention of trying to stop the cat genocide per se. They are focused on eliminating Humans.” The Queen of Hearts, alias “Birdi”, seen here, is part of a cell in Canada with a plan to spread the Bird Flu across the border into the United States. She looks adorable, but has many disguises, blends in with other cats and is impossible to pinpoint.

Birdi has several son’s; the eldest is ‘Lunch Meat’, the Jack of Hearts, and operates a cell out of Wisconsin. He is less disciplined, but ruthless, shown here taking advantage of his natural enemy; the dog. He is actively recruiting cat pets in the US to their cause, convincing them that they are mere slaves to the Human thirst for companionship. There is known to be roughly 65 million cat pets in the US.

The FBI issued a code red Cat Terror Alert, and advises all pet owner’s in the US to be vigilant. Some things to look for in your cat:

Look for unusual behavior.
--If your cat no longer attacks birds.
--If they bring home suspicious looking friends.
--If they stay out late at night.
--If you find them sneaking around.
--If they seem detached and want to do their own thing.
--If they appear to be ‘thinking’.
--They get mad at you for no apparent reason.
--They’ve learned stuff you did not teach them.
--If you find them talking to birds, or other strange cats.
--If their claws have been dipped in ink.
--If they seem to eat more than usual (they may be supplying food for the underground)
--If they’re no longer interested in cat nip.
--They start watching TV.
If you see ANY of these signs, please contact you local FBI offices. Your cat may be in danger of being recruited into the Meow Tse Tung gang.

Bugga bugga bugga

2005-11-01T18:42:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm posting a 'list' thingy I got from Colleen's blog, who got it from Duskydawn. I don't know of any other 'guy' who has done this sort of thing, so I may be going out on a limb here, but I'm posting it anyway because I am a free spirit and refuse to be stereotyped as a symbol of masculinity all the time…

1. Name someone with the same birthday as you.
George Clooney (5/6/1961)
2. Where was your first kiss?
On the cheek.
3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else's property?
Not on purpose, the toilet must have been clogged before I got there.
4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?
We were playing football, and I hit her low and knocked her to the ground. I ended up on top of her and suddenly did not want to play football anymore.
5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people?
Yeah, I sang in a choir and a solo at Church when I was a kid. (Christmas songs.)
6. What's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?
Clothes/accessories. (but I’m not gay-- not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
7. What do you order at the Coffee Bean?
Mostly coffee, sometimes tea.
8. What was your biggest mistake?
Not taking life seriously (still don’t.)
9. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?
Yes. I discovered if I pinch myself at a certain spot by my ribs, I feel the pinch on my elbow. Really neat. So I tried pinching myself everywhere to find another spot, but just got a bunch of purple welts.
10. Say something totally random about yourself.
Bugga bugga bugga--wugga me.
11. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Yes. When I grew a beard, I was told twice that I looked like Stephen King. (yeah, I was at a book store both times.)
12. Do you still watch kiddy movies or TV shows?
Yeah, all the time. (but I’m not gay--not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
13. Did you have braces?
I wore a back brace once and actually liked it, but I got scared and took it off because it reminded me of a corset. And I was beginning to want to try on a dress. (But I’m not gay--not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
14. Are you comfortable with your height?
No, at six one I wish I was shorter so I have better balance in fights.
15. What is the most romantic thing someone of the opposite sex has done for you?
She asked if I were gay. (But I’m not gay--not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
16. When do you know it's love?
Immediately.
17. Do you speak any other languages?
Only in my sleep.
18. Have you ever been to a tanning salon?
Yes. But I thought it was a restaurant.
19. What magazines do you read?
In the Wind (motorcycle mag) Cosmopolitan, Woman’s Journal. (but I’m not gay--not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
20. Have you ever ridden in a limo?
Once with Shelley Long, and once with Victoria Principle. (Don’t ask.)
21. Has anyone you were really close to passed away?
Yeah, he was gay. Lung cancer, not HIV (but I’m not gay--not that there is anything wrong with being gay.)
22. Do you watch Mtv?
I heard a rumor about it once, but that’s about it.
23. What's something that really annoys you?
Getting rice stuck up my nose.
24. What's something you really like?
Ice cold cherry juice on a hot day. And hot Women any day. (told you I wasn’t gay.)
25. Do you like Michael Jackson?
Of course. But I can sing and dance better, and create better songs,I think--if only someone would give me a couple million in seed money to motivate me...
26. Can you dance?
Dancing right now. Yeehaww!
27. What's the latest you have ever stayed up?
The hands on the clock go round and round, round and round, round and round…3 days.
28. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?
No, but a drive-through emergency room is a good idea though.
29. Do you actually read these when other people fill them out?
Bugga, bugga bugga...Question should be why did I just eat a bag of popcorn, a box of malt balls, and a large Pizza while answering this thing--I feel sick right now...my stomach is scolding me...:(

Witch thought extinct rediscovered

2005-10-24T00:47:00.000-07:00

SALEM Oct 20, 2005 — The red ribbon witch, once prized for its red ribbon and sought by American Indians as magical, was thought to be extinct for years. Now it's been sighted again and conservationists are exulting.
The striking witch, last seen in 1939, has been rediscovered in the Dark Woods area of Salem Massachusetts, scientists and conservationists reported Thursday.
"This is thrilling beyond words … after 66 years of fading hope that we would ever see this spectacular witch again," Patrick S. Stumpworth, grand warlock of the Wolf Covenant, said at a news conference.
Since early 2004 there have been several independent sightings, including one caught on videotape, of one or more of the witches, Stumpworth said.
That video of the witches 4-foot tall frame and distinctive red markings on the head and feet confirmed the presence of the creature that seemed to have vanished after excess witch hunting destroyed its habitat.
The discovery of living examples of a breed believed to be extinct is rare, said Kassandra Pagany, director of science at the National Witching Society. "Wow," she said. "This is tremendous."
Interior Secretary Tess Desmond and Wicca Culture Secretary Anton Blavatsky promised millions of dollars in federal assistance to work with the state and local residents to protect this witch.
"Don't love this witch to death," Desmond added, saying there have been a lot of witch watchers swarming the area to get a glimpse.
Stumpworth’s report was released by the American Association for the Advancement of Science, which is publishing the study in the Journal of Witchcraft Science, and also announced by the Nature Conservancy.
Bevan Broomsmith of Ontario, Canada, said the discovery brought tears to his eyes. Broomsmith was part of the Blair Witch Covenant that spent a month unsuccessfully trying to confirm reports of the red ribbon witch in Louisiana in 2001.
"The implications are staggering," he said.

Loser

2005-10-20T00:18:00.000-07:00

This is what I wanted my Hurricane to look like. You know strong neck and chin, and fierce looking.

But here is Hurricane Vince on October 8th. My once in a lifetime chance at fame, and I get a pencil necked small chinned weirdo looking Hurricane. And they described it as peculiar, unusual, controversial. And they called Vince small and short-lived. (What did they mean by that?)

So I was feeling a little down when I met my buddy at the bowling alley. I carried my ball in a large paint bucket because my brother had used my bowling bag to hold the bounty he caught on a fishing trip.

The first thing my buddy said was, “you look like a loser. No one carries their ball in a bucket!”

So we sat down in the alley for a cup of coffee before our game, and my buddy asks, “Would you rob a bank if you had a ‘get out of jail free card’ ?”
“What kind of question is that?” I said.
“Well, would you?”
“Nah, I’d rather rob an armored car, less people involved.”
“How would you do it?”
“Without hurting anybody,“ I said. “It would have to be an inside job.”
“I could be the insider.” He said.
“No, you’re an idiot, and can’t lie if your life depended on it.”
“True.” He said. “But I don’t want to split it with anyone else, so you would have to be the insider.”
“Who said you’d be in on it?”
“It was my idea?”
“This is not even real, you’re not going to be part of it.”
“Then I’ll tell.”
“Go ahead, it’s not even real, and besides I get a ‘get out of jail free card.”
“I can’t believe you’d cut me out like that, and it was my idea.” He said.
“Well you’re ratting me out, before I even have a plan! Idiot!”
“I couldn’t trust you anyway!”
“Look who’s talking. Rat!”
He gets up to go to the head. While he’s away, a cute girl says goodbye to her friends, and comes up and looks in my bucket. She thought there was a kitten in there or something. We start talking and my buddy comes back from the head with a hand full of paper towels he uses to clean the holes of the rental bowling balls. He takes over the conversation and asks her if she knew where he can get some cheap bowling shoes. (he hates having to use rental shoes that others have worn.) And she knows someone! They get into a conversation and I find out she’s related to Pocahontas. I sit there watching them interact and realize I’m out of the equation. After 15 minutes they end up leaving together, and I’m left alone with my bucket feeling like a loser and thanking God I wasn’t wearing my bowling shirt. I did not even get to bowl. Whose cutting who out, I thought. And it was MY bucket, and she was MY catch!

So I order a cheese burger and pushed the bucket out with my foot to see what else I could catch. A girl soon comes up and looks in the bucket, then smiles at me. But she’s like 9 years old. I ask her, “your not really in your 30’s, but look really young are you?” (hey, you never know.) She says, “no” and walks away. Then I see her with her friends looking in my direction giggling. I feel like a Sad Sac and think about my dick wad of a hurricane. What a loser…

Right and Wrong

2005-10-10T03:19:00.000-07:00

Right

Wrong

Right

Wrong

Right

Wrong

How many black dots can you count at any one time?

Are the black dots really there? Or do we just perceive they are there?

Perhaps the difference between right and wrong is not there either.

Perhaps we just create a perception of right and wrong to help us survive in this physical world.

Blue Star: Part 1

2005-10-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, I decided to write a story as a hobby, in addition to my Monday Funny. I thought I'd post it on my blog as I write it, for those that may feel like reading sometime, and so I can read it too. I never tried to write a long story before because I have no patience, or any real writing skills. But if I do it in short parts, maybe I can hang with it. It’s fun so far, so I think I will just do it and see how it goes.

Kidd Parker was a big man with a big appetite. At six foot three and a trim 230 pounds, he found himself eating a lot. It was warm out, but he felt cool in his sleeveless black tee-shirt and blue jeans, sitting on his Harley Heritage Classic smoking a cig, and eying the attractive girl in the KFC through the window. He had already eaten at Arby’s, but now he craved a chicken sandwich, a coke, and the girl behind the counter. He put the cig out on the bottom of his boot and walked in, still wearing his shades. He took long fluid strides and moved effortlessly with animal grace. The enormous strength in his legs propelled him forward like a well tuned machine, and his confident demeanor gave him an overpowering presence.
“Hi.”
“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman behind the counter spoke calmly, but stared at the intrusive looking customer with a hint of fear.
“Can I have a Coke and a Horny Chicken Barbeque sandwich please?”
“Honey,” she corrected.
“Well, hi sugar,” he said whimsically as he leaned in with a smirk on his face, looking for a name badge, but there wasn’t any. She looked older than he would have thought for a counter girl—more his age—and that pleased him. And even in jeans and a light sweater top, she looked quite sophisticated and strikingly beautiful.
“No, I meant, it’s a Honey Chicken sandwich. Is that all for you?” She smiled, wondering why this older guy was acting like a big kid.
“No, I’d also like you to get something for yourself and meet me outside.” Kidd slapped a twenty on the counter and slowly walked backwards towards the door.
“What?” Her eyes twinkled. Now that was more like it, she thought. This is a man talking. She was used to men coming on to her, and why not, she was thirty-nine, available, and attractive. Well she had a few wrinkles around the edges, but her short sassy brown hair still graced her face, and her wide youthful smile made her look in her late twenties still.
“It’s too nice a day to be working; we’re going to the beach and you’re invited. You like the beach? “ Kidd paused.
“What? Are you kidding? Who’s we?” She did like the beach, and she loved the idea of going—but with a complete stranger? She was there at the KFC just checking up on a few things anyway--she owned the franchise, and stopped in occasionally to mosey around. And she was well off financially; she lived a comfortable life, created each day as it came, so yeah, she could do whatever she wanted to do.
“No, I’m not 'kidding', but your close, my name’s Kidd. And the ‘we’ is you and me. Come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll be waiting right out there," Kidd gestured to a point just outside the door.

One can’t do too much talking on a bike traveling 80-90 miles per hour on the freeway. But Adrian Miles felt safe clinging to Kidd on his bike. She felt a freedom she had never felt before--a freedom born from the sound of a V-twin, and the feel of the rushing wind blowing against her face. And the thunderous vibrations emanating from her seat overwhelmed her with yet another freedom that liberated her loins and tightened her clutch around Kidd. And without her permission, the vibrations and the warmth of Kidd’s closeness shattered her into a billion pieces as involuntary moans escaped her, and the raging wind penetrated her, ravished her, and became one with her and the Kidd. After three more cycles of inner explosions she became dehydrated and almost fainted.

Before Adrian could even start to think about what possessed her into going with Kidd, she found herself wrapped in a rented wet suit, paddling a double kayak in the Monterey Bay, with Kidd in back this time. She had never seen the ocean from a perspective from being on the ocean before. A seagull hovered just feet away from her head, she could almost touch it. A pelican dove into the water to her right and she could see it dive at least four feet under the water to nab a small fish. They coasted past a 30 foot long anchored metal boat, abandoned except for the six large seals basking in the sun on the deck, barking like dogs. How did they get up there? She felt another rush of freedom. And she felt an unfamiliar happiness.

Kidd powered the kayak towards a small beach landing where other kayakers were sprinkled about. A wall of rock separated the beach from small gift shops, restaurants and the main stripe, busy with tourists, bicyclists, and locals out for a good time. They beached their boat and walked up the stone steps with food on their minds--one can get pretty hungry after a few hours of kayaking. When they strolled into a small café that advertised clam chowder in a bread bowl, Adrian felt like she was in a James Bond movie. All eyes where on her and Kidd in their wet suits. She imagined that everyone was wondering who they were, and if they were thinking if she and Kidd were marine biologists or maybe secret agents on a mission.

The chowder was clammy but good, and they sat and talked about the animals and sights they’ve seen so far, and how they both smelled like salt. And Adrian could not stop looking at the Kidd. His strong arms complimented his broad shoulders and stern dimpled chin. He was hard and muscular, yet his dark hair and knowing look gave him a dignified appearance. Other than knowing that Kidd was good looking and can eat, she still didn’t know anything about him. They had only taken time for a brief exchange of names at the KFC. And Kidd had polished down his horny chicken sandwich in less than two minutes, tossed her his black leather jacket and skull cap helmet from his saddle bags, and off to the beach they went. Kidd did not even question how she could leave work on such short notice, or what such a sophisticated lady as herself was doing behind a counter at KFC in the first place.

“So what’s next Kiddo? “ Adrian finally asked, her mouth and eyes behaving more seductively than she realized. But she liked him, liked his mysteriousness, and had no intention to spoil the fun by analyzing anything at the moment. She just wanted to play and live, and feel her desire for this man grow. And get on that bike again!
“Do you like Cats?” Kidd prompted, struggling to control his own primeval desire to take Adrian in his arms right there on the table.
“I prefer dogs.”
“No, I mean the Broadway Show ‘Cats’, it’s playing tomorrow night in San Francisco. I happen to have two tickets, and you’re invited...”

…To be continued.

Monday Monday!

2005-10-05T01:56:00.000-07:00

I just got harassed by the Federal Blog Controller Agency (FBCA) for not making my Monday Post. They came to my house at 12:01 am Tuesday and dragged me to court. I tried to defend myself but Al Gore, the head of the FBCA, caught me dead to rights and fined me $5000. Here are the court proceedings:

Gore: Records show you were late on your Monday Post.
Vince: I posted it on time; it was a computer glitch, power surge or something.
Gore: That’s impossible, our computer technology is state-of-the-art and it does not lie. I want answers.
Vince: You want answers?
Gore: I think I'm entitled to them.
Vince: You want answers?
Gore: I want the truth!
Vince: You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has walls. And those walls have to be manned by men who make decisions. Who's gonna do it? You? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for the Blogger yet you curse a Late Post. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that a certain decision, while tragic, probably enhances lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, enhances lives...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall. We use words like blog honor, blog code, blog loyalty...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent achieving something. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very Blog I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you click on a mouse and man a Blog. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!
Gore: Were you late on your Monday Post?
Vince: (quietly) I did the job God sent me to do.
Gore: WERE YOU LATE ON YOUR MONDAY POST?
Vince: YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I WAS!!

Anyway, I met a kid this weekend who wanted to be President. Then I thought, what kid wouldn’t?

Whoop Ass! Haha.

HEY!

2005-09-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

Hey, I am switching my 'POST' schedule to once a week every Monday. Because my work has slammed me with stuff to do and I’ve had to cut back on all 60 of my hobbies to accommodate. But I will still be reading blogs whenever I want (kind of.) Cheers to good times!

Prof: Okay, what letter comes after Q?
Gorilla: Arrrr!
Prof: Okay, good. Now talk like a Pirate.
Gorilla: Arrrrr!
Prof: Great, now what do you say when Jennifer Lopez walks into the room?
Gorilla: Ooo Ooo.
Prof: Terrific, good job.
Gorilla: Hey!
Prof: Excuse me? What did you say? Did you say Hey? Say it again!
Gorilla: (silence)
Prof: Common, say it again for the tape, say HEY!
Gorilla: (silence)
Prof: SAY HEY!
Gorilla: (silence)
Prof: COME ON, SAY IT AGAIN YOU DAMN DIRTY APE!
Gorilla: ARRRRRRRRG !! [SLAM! BAM! click*]

Carl

2005-09-24T19:38:00.000-07:00

“Hi, my name is Carl. I’m looking for a girl who is smart, open minded and likes kids. She has to like Hip-Hop, ball-room dancing, ice hockey and most cats. No smokers please. I don’t have many skills, but I have a car, some money, and can throw a cannon ball over 50 yards. If you think you’re the girl for me, and want to hook up, please give me a holler…Peace out.”

Eye of the Beholder

2005-09-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

Cute.

Cute.

Cute.

Cute?

Editorial: Heaven and Hell

2005-09-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

I’m not totally sure where I want to go when I die, so I asked God and Satan to arrange a short tour of their facilities so I can better determine my final resting place.I found Heaven to be a bit Conservative for some reason; mostly Christians were there, but a few exceptions.

To my right, I saw a man with a beard, banging his 72 Virgins. And I thought, what a nasty awful place this is, it must be Hell for those poor virgins.

To my left, I saw a bloody naked long haired guy pinned up on sticks and wearing a thorn hat. And I thought how horrible a place this is; it must be Hell for that poor tortured man.

And the guy straight ahead was rocking back and forth in a corner with a fearful look in his eyes. So I asked him, “So how do you like it here in heaven.” He answered, “This place is terrible. All I hear everyday is God’s voice in my head. And they’re all around me, these white fairy-like things flying around with wings, and it’s driving me bananas. They do have cake here, and plenty of milk, but I am lactose intolerant, so it’s like a living Hell for me here.”

So I was not too impressed with Heaven, and looked forward to see if Hell was any better.

When I got to Hell, I found it to be quite a Liberal place—it seemed everyone was allowed in there, no segregation going on or anything.

To my right, I saw a replica of the White House, complete with 666 interns and maids, and even a few Laura Bush and Hillary Clinton look-alikes. There was a line of guys standing outside waiting for their turn to ‘play’ president. And I thought, what a hellish, disgusting activity, but then again, I always wanted to be president, maybe it will be a nice experience.

To my left, I saw Jeffrey Dahmer rotating an impaled guy on a stick and roasting him over an open fire. And I thought, how awful. And Jeffrey did not have a mouth, so it must have been Hell for him. But some other open-minded guests gave a taste and all agreed it tasted like chicken.

The guy straight ahead was Jack the Ripper. He was playing golf all by himself. So I asked him, “So how do you like it here in Hell.” Jack said, “It’s hellish for me because I’m not allowed to kill anyone. And Global Warming is a real problem. But it’s not all that bad really, and I have some time to practice my game before OJ Simpson arrives.”

So after my tour I was a bit disappointed in both Heaven and Hell. The ‘White House” thing in Hell was interesting, but I would have to avoid the likes of Dahmer and the Ripper. And it’s a bit too hot there. But Satan did try to bribe me by offering Janis Joplin as a room-mate—very cool. Heaven seemed more bearable, I mean if I can convince the bearded guy to share his virgins and avoid the thorns and cake, (I'm lactose intolerant too) then maybe it won’t be all that bad. But I’ll probably end up in Hell unless I stop these bad thoughts about the virgins. Darn. Maybe I can make up for it by including God when I recite the Pledge of Allegiance, even if our law ends up banning it. After-all, God did promise to introduce me to Kristen Scott Thomas someday if I was a good boy. Yay!

So I’ll shoot for Heaven. I mean I’ll endeavor for Heaven. And I'll just enjoy life and live here as long as I can. After-all, it’s not all that bad here; and it seems I can experience the best of both Heaven and Hell right here anyway!

John Roberts Grilled

2005-09-16T02:39:00.000-07:00

Roberts, pictured here as Senator Joe Biden (D-DE) grills him on his views of abortion at his confirmation hearing, and sticks him with this tough question, “Do you believe the opposite of being alive, is being dead?”

--What kind of ridiculous question is this anyway? Roberts actually paused to think before answering, “Yes, I do.”

Here is the complete dialog:

Biden: Do you believe the opposite of being alive, is being dead?
Roberts: Yes, I do.
Biden: So you’re saying, if you are not alive, then you are dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.
Biden: Then if you are not alive, and not dead, then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be just not born yet; you can’t die until you have been born and alive first.
Biden: So the unborn is neither alive nor dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.
Biden: So you can be alive, dead, or unborn, yet if you are unborn you can be either dead or alive?
Roberts: Yes.
Biden: So are you alive if you are born?
Roberts: Not necessarily.
Biden: So you can be either alive, or dead, or unborn, or born, yet if you are born you are not necessarily alive?
Roberts: Yes.
Biden: So you can be born dead?
Roberts: Yes.
Biden: But you said you can’t die unless you were alive first, so it would follow that if you are born dead, then you must have been alive while unborn, is that correct?
Roberts: Yes.
Biden: So it follows that you are either born and dead, or born and alive, or unborn and alive, or unborn and dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.
Biden: Then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be unborn, and neither alive nor dead; that is you may not only be unborn but you may also be un-conceived.
Biden: So you are either born conceived and dead, or born conceived and alive, or unborn conceived and alive, or unborn conceived and dead, or unborn, and un-conceived, un-alive, and un-dead?
Roberts: Not necessarily.
Biden: Then what else can you be?
Roberts: You can be born and conceived, and un-alive, and un-dead.
Biden: In other words, you are saying one can be either born conceived and dead, or born conceived and alive or unborn conceived and alive or unborn conceived and dead, or unborn, and un-conceived, un-alive, and un-dead or born, conceived, yet neither dead nor alive?
Roberts: Yes.
Biden: I can understand how you can be unborn, and un-conceived, therefore un-dead and un-alive, but how can you be born, yet neither dead nor alive?
Roberts: Well, do you believe everything has an opposite?
Biden: Yes.
Roberts: Then it follows that the opposite of ‘dead or alive’, is ‘neither dead nor alive’, so ‘neither dead nor alive’ is something you believe in by your own submission that everything has an opposite.
Biden: But what does this mean?
Roberts: This basically means that you believe in the undead, the walking dead, Voodoo shamanism, and Zombie movies.
Biden: But this is ridiculous.
Roberts: Exactly!!!

Mad Fad Disease

2005-09-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

This is the current rage in Japan. These skirts are not see through, but rather painted on prints. Will this spread to the USA?

IDIOT!

2005-09-12T00:39:00.000-07:00

A buddy of mine asked if I would ‘do’ a dog.

I said nope.

Then he asked if I would 'do' a dog if someone gave me a million bucks.

I said nope, because I would need the dogs consent, and I could not really be sure if the dog was consenting or not.

Then my buddy said everyone has a price, and he asked if I would 'do' a dog for a billion bucks if nobody else knew about it, and if it was a horny consenting dog.

So I said, "Okay, for a billion bucks, I would 'do' a dog, but it would have to be a nice looking poodle, clean and well groomed." (I was thinking of a poodle like this one in the photo.)

My buddy said no, and that I would have to 'do' an unattractive poodle (Maybe like this dog.) So I said, for a billion bucks, okay, I’d do it…Then my buddy called me a dirty whore for being willing to 'do' a dog…I told him, "So what, I’m a whore—F*** Y**. Give me a billion dollars."

Then my buddy asked if I would 'do' a guy for 10 billion bucks. I said, "for 10 billion bucks, yeah I would, but he’d have to look like Anne Heche."

My buddy said no, and described a guy he would have to look like—Like the guy in this photo…

He said I would have to do everything the guy asked me to do for an entire week including ‘eating salad’, and that 'golden shower' thing.

I said, “Okay, for 10 billion bucks, I could hire a surgeon to cut the memory out of my head afterwards, haha.”

He said, no, the rule is that I would have to live with the memory.

So I said, “Hell yeah I’d do it for 10 billion bucks.”

He said, “I don’t believe you.”

I said, “I’m telling you I would do it.”

He said, “I don’t f***ing believe you.”

I said, “I’m f***ing telling you I would do it.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“I’m telling you I would.”

“Liar.”

I said, “Put your money where your mouth is, gimme 10 billion bucks.”

He then tried to change the rules by adding all kinds of other disgusting stuff, and I told him he could not change the rules like that, and a big argument ensued. It ended when he stood up and yelled, “I can’t believe you’d let that fat f**k corn-hole you like his little bitch!” Then he walked out.

I stood up to follow him and noticed everyone in the Starbucks was staring at us. I apologized to the obese lady by the door on my way out. In the parking lot I had to explain to my IDIOT buddy that everyone in the Starbucks thought we were having a gay lovers spat—he was clueless. We had to find another spot for our coffee breaks after that…

Essay: Food, Sex and Guns

2005-09-08T23:58:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about how appetizing this turkey looked to me. But in reality it’s just a burnt headless dead carcass, which I would proceed to rip the dead flesh apart with my teeth, suck it down into a rancid acid pit, squish it through a dark pounding gastric torture tunnel, and then squirt out the remains into a nasty dirty toilet bowl. It’s a very violent and filthy sequence of events. So my mind fools itself into believing that eating is a rather pleasant activity. But in reality, it is a somewhat horrifying procedure.

Then I thought about it. What else is my mind fooling itself about? Let’s take Ashley Judd as an example. I think she is attractive. But in reality, she is not that much different from a common wart toad. I mean she may be a little different, with a tuff of greasy hair on her head, and some growths on her chest, but basically she has the same slimy internal organs and functionality as a slimy frog. So in reality, she is somewhat a disgusting creature not so much unlike a giant maggot with a nob head and some lanky limbs.

So my mind may be fooling itself in order to survive. Because for my body to survive and procreate, my mind needs to think it enjoys food and sex. So that leads me to the subject of GUNS. I think guns represent beauty and perfection. To me it’s the perfect tool that catch me food and protect me from harm as I compete for sex. Yup, I tend to believe all killing has its roots in competition for food and sex (love, procreation.) So I like the feel and weight of cold steal in my hand; the explosive power it wields, the thunderous sounds it makes, and the smell of gun powder. But if you think about it, a gun is nothing more than a nasty killing tool.

This brings me to this pig. I don’t find it appetizing, because it reminds me too much of a human with terrible steal shafts poking through it. But obviously others do find it appetizing, and also others do not like guns. So why do their minds fool them in the opposite manner than my mind fools me? Maybe it’s because each mind works from the different experiences of the individual. To the pig eater, the steal shafts may just represent the proper tools needed for pig roasting. To the anti-gunner, guns may represent an evil threat to their lives and loved ones.

So what does all this mean? It means this essay will mean nothing to some readers—and everything to other readers.

Steroids: The good, the bad, the ugly

2005-09-06T23:10:00.000-07:00

Lance Armstrong's Bike
Armstrong's Bike on steroids

Jack Nicholson
Jack on Steroids
Hillary Clinton
Hillary on steroids

Katrina Quotes

2005-09-05T22:34:00.000-07:00

Does anyone actually listen to these people?

Michael Moore--"Any idea where all our helicopters are?"

Jesse Jackson--"It is racist to call American citizens refugees.''

Bill Clinton --"Our government failed those people--one hundred percent of the people recognize that -- that it was a failure."

LOVE NEEDED

2005-09-01T12:12:00.000-07:00

--My heart and prayers to all the people and families suffering in the Gulf Coast Region--

--And blessings to the rescue workers putting their lives on the line, and everyone pouring their hearts out and offering what they can to help--

I have personal friends affected by Hurricane Katrina, and I am becoming more and more aware that many of my new blogger friends are personally involved, or have friends and family in that area also...

Red Cross: 1-800-HELP-NOW
Red Cross: www.redcross.org

On the light side...
(Events too small to make the Headlines)

Keeping order:Rover caught looting?

Rescue: Squeegie needs help too.

Recovery: Marty takes a break.

Michael Jackson finds Paradise

2005-08-29T20:16:00.000-07:00

Bahrain (Reuters) - Pop star Michael Jackson, who was acquitted in June of child sex abuse charges, is currently living in the Gulf Arab kingdom of Bahrain, where he spent an undisclosed sum to buy 14 acres of land next to a palace owned by his friend, Sheik Abdullah bin Hamad al Khalifa.Bahrain is an Arabic hot bed of child sex trafficking, where abducted children from around the world are subject to barter and trade like any other commodity. This sex slave industry goes unchallenged by Bahrain rulers, and unquestioned by Michael’s NAACP Image Award Spokesman.
Michael’s new “Thrill My Dill” Video is set to be released early next year at the completion of his new 500 room Aladdin Fun Palace in Bahrain. The theme palace will include a night care facility, a realistic slave boy harem, and a glow-in-the-dark theme park ride (basically a 500 SQFT King Size vibrating bed disguised as a giant Flying Carpet.)

Budapest: New rules for women

2005-08-28T02:12:00.000-07:00

BUDAPEST (AFP) - A district mayor in Budapest Hungary proposed a new code of ‘appearance’ for City Hall employees under which only women with "pretty legs" can wear short skirts. The European Union hopes to adopt this policy for their New World Order.

Also under the new law, the girl on the right would be suspended from work until she can make herself more attractive.

This girl would be put on probation until she can gain 4 pounds, and lose the boyfriend.

And this girl would be sacked without severance and immediately placed into quarantine.

Sad Sac

2005-08-25T01:21:00.000-07:00

The checker at the Walgreen’s was very large, and it had a man’s hair cut, hairy arms, deep voice and it’s name was Terry. I had no idea what sex it was. I couldn’t tell if it had breasts or not. One day I had bought a sandwich and a box of Tampons for my girlfriend. Terry actually was looking at me like it was not sure what sex I was??? So I had to clarify, “This is not for me, I’m a dude man. I mean I’m not a damn Butch!”-- Big mistake!

I was on a first date with a girl fresh from China. We stopped at a traffic signal behind a Mercedes diesel. It smelled really bad, like sulfur and rotten eggs. The girl thought I farted because she opened her window and the sun roof and looked at me with a disgusted look. I told her the smell was coming from outside, from that diesel car, and that she was making the smell worse by opening the window.. But she had never experienced a diesel smell before and she didn't believe me. She was totally turned off and started waiving her hands, and I was frustrated. I mean the smell was really bad and I could not believe she actually thought a smell like that could come from a human. Then I made a bad choice for a place to eat. I took her to my favorite burrito place and bought us each a burrito. Then I realized she was thinking I always eat beans. When I stood up from the picnic table I had dirt on the butt of my white pants. She joked and said I have fart on my pants. “Fun Pi” which I guess is fart in Chinese. The date was basically over, and she didn’t even touch her burrito.

A girl came up to me in the mall to ask me what time it was. Perfect opportunity, I thought, to get some interaction goin’ on. I said that it’s about 10 to 5 and positioned myself for conversation, but she said, “Oh, shit,” And ran off. I looked at my watch again and realized I blew it, because it was only 10 to 4. I bought a digital watch after that.

I was standing in the mall and thought I was stylish. I woman walked by and smiled at me, but her little kid pointed and yelled, “Hey, mom, look at the skinny man, is that Gilligan?” She gave me a bigger smile and then scolded the kid for pointing. I looked at my reflection in the display window and realized my new terry cloth hat did not compliment my red shirt and white pants.

At the mall, I waived at a pretty girl that I thought I knew. And she smiled and waived back. But then we both realized we did not know each other; boy was that awkward.

I was at a museum in Florida. They had actual train engines in one room and also a display of miniature trains and tunnels. I noticed a beautiful blond was following me around, so I tried to act cool. The room was very quiet and we were all alone. At one display of a long tunnel, she stood at one end and I was at the other. She was about 15 feet away. I went to stick my head into the tunnel to see what was in there and my face slammed into a clear glass barrier. My glasses went flying, and its bent frame crashed to the floor and the lenses popped out. My camera had banged against it too. The whole room echoed with a big bang. The girl came over to see if I was okay, and then started laughing at my face print on the glass. When her friend showed up they walked away giggling and I heard her say something. But all I could catch was the word ‘Barney’.

In a clothes store at the mall, my girlfriend was standing next to me and I held her hand. But it felt a little funny and when I looked it was a strange man, and I just froze. His wife was standing across from us with a curious look on her face, and then the man noticed his wife. He jumped and jerked his hand away and I had to explain it was a mistake. My girlfriend was just shaking her head.

At a department store in Paris I was standing in front of a mirror looking at myself. Then two slim French girls came up to the mirror, and one of them pulled off her shirt to try on a blouse. But for a moment, she just stood there admiring herself in the mirror, and she was bare breasted. There was a silver chain linked from a belly ring that split into a ‘V’ and attached to two nipple rings. The store was packed with people but no one else seemed to care, and she did not care either. But I was just mesmerized and could not look away, and my jaw dropped. Then my wife threw her shopping bag at my head and my glasses went flying. I had to run to catch up to her so I could explain. The rest of the day I had to shop with my glasses off. I could not see a damn thing.

I was at a disco (it was the 70’s) but was exhausted because I had played sports the whole day. It was after midnight when a fine girl asked me to dance. I looked at her then vomited on her shoes…

The helper at the dentist forgot to put the lead apron on me when he took the X-ray. Then my mouth was open and my dentist had a huge bugger in his nose, but I couldn’t say anything. I looked at his hairy chest and the gold chain that swung in his open shirt. No white coat for this guy. He looked like Tom Jones. When I looked back the bugger was gone!?! I think I actually cried. When I got out of that place my keys were locked in the car and my engine was running.

At a disco the fine girl sitting next to me was moving to the music, so I turned to ask her to dance, but another guy had already asker her. She stood up and turned to the guy but he had already walked away thinking she had rejected him. She was really embarrassed and I felt sorry for her. She just sat back down and I lost the momentum to ask her. But later I saw her looking bored and standing against the wall. So I maneuvered my way next to her ready to make a move when I stepped on her toe by accident. She screamed and everyone turned to look. The guy next to her tried to help her and his hand leaned on the wooden shelf above her. The shelf tilted down and mixed drinks and beer bottles tumbled on her head and crashed to the floor. Her pretty face turned demonic and very scary looking. Next thing some guys are shoving me. Then before I know it two bouncers had me spread eagled and threw me out the door. They swung me as they counted one, two three, then let me fly. But it was all just an accident!?!

At a dance club I asked a girl to dance. She shook her head. I asked the next girl and she just smiled and said, “no.” I was getting worried because I had never been rejected twice in a row before. And I felt that everyone was looking at me. I went down the line like a fool, but thinking I was cool like John Travolta, and finally the 5th girl tells me that I have huge green spinach stuck in my teeth…

I was getting on a float plane in Alaska, dressed like Indiana Jones. Equiped with my adventurous look, I was confident that I was going to impress the two girls who were already inside. But I hit my head on the door frame so hard that I fell on my back and my Skittles spilled all over the dock. When we landed, I got off first and there was a huge bump on my head. I had to walk to the trading post alone because the two girls wanted to stay and talk to the pilot dude. I felt like a complete dork.

I saw a cute girl holding a dog and I asked, “pretty dog, what’s her name?”. She looked at me like I was cruel, then I looked at the dog again. It was a baby holding a stuffed animal!

At the mall I was with a group waiting for the elevator. I had my hands in my pockets and decided to break the silence with conversation. I looked at the elevator door and there was a big green ‘3’ on it. And I said, “Hmm, I wonder what that ‘3’ stands for?” Everyone just looked at me and held back smiles. But one kid could not hold it and burst out laughing. Then he informed me that we were on the 3rd floor.

At the mall I wore my sunglasses inside the store. I thought I could pull a fast one on my wife since she could not see where my eyes were looking. But this one young girl was giving me the eye like you wouldn’t believe, and she was wearing shorts and no bra. My mistake was that my wife could still see the girl’s eyes, and could see the wicked smile on my face. She made a big scene and yelled out, “Why don’t you just go F__k her?” The girl’s mom was shocked. I new I was in trouble and just handed my wife the car keys. I had to walk six miles home that day.

At the gym, I went to take a shower. A gay guy was at the far right corner. I picked the shower at the opposite side on the far left corner. After I shampooed and opened my eyes, the gay guy had moved to the showerhead right next to me, and he had his arms up and turning all around like he was a strip dancer showing off his wares. I turned around and ignored him, and then he left. When I got out, he was using my towel, and rubbing it back and forth on his balls like a see-saw. I stood in front of him naked and said, “hey man, that’s my towel.” He said sorry that he took the wrong towel and started to hand it back to me. I said, “I don’t want that after you used it.” Then he offered his towel. I looked at it and it was a dirty white and had pubic hairs stuck in it. I said, “That’s dirty man. “And I ended up going back to the office feeling abused, and looking like a soggy idiot.

A very sophisticated and proper catholic lady visited our office from the east coast. I was elected to entertain her that night. I took her to San Francisco and made a wrong turn smack dab into a Gay Parade. We were stuck and the naughty boys were walking all around us. She gasped when a man wearing only chaps walked by and revealed his bare butt, and then almost fainted when men dressed in lingerie came by kissing and holding each other in places beyond imagination. After I parked we went to a quaint café. About 12 guys and a girl came in to pose for a picture right across from us. As we watched, they all quickly dropped there pants and drawers right before the girl snapped the picture. The lady was disgusted at the public exposure of all those well hung beef cakes. Then on the way to the show, we passed a pay-potty on the street just as three nasty looking men came out of it! The lady was absolutely appalled. Finally at the show, I had no idea it was an adult farce in very bad taste. She walked out and I followed. I lost the friggen account.

I was at a sales seminar standing in front of a large group of financial planners and multi-million dollar mutual fund managers on wall-street. I decide to start by livening up the room with a joke. So I said, “Okay, I’m going to divide you into teams. Everyone on the left side will be shirts, and everyone on my right will be skins.” Not a single laugh or even smile. They all just looked at me like I was a fool. The only guy that laughed was in the back row—the president of another software firm, our biggest competition.

Things that happened while working at Macy’s

2005-08-22T22:47:00.000-07:00

I watched two guys standing over a boombox arguing. They were pulling on it but it was tied down with cables. They were making a scene and attracting attention. One guy slaps the other guy across the head and says, “I told you to bring the bleeping cable cutters.”

I caught the janitor wanking it in the broom closet. I told operations manager and she said she saw him before too and told him to stop. He was Union so she had no power over him.

A large woman returned a lazy boy chair because it was defective. I pulled it off her truck and placed it on the ground. It was flat as a pancake. She looked a little embarrassed.

I was outside on break and a guy sprinted passed me. I watched in awe as he hurdled over the fence and fell 40 feet to loading dock below. I watched the ambulance take him away with two broken legs, but security kept the stolen watch.

When I worked in lingerie, I noticed I could see into all the dressing rooms from the stock space above. But a couple weeks later an attractive girl caught my attention and I realized it was wrong to look. So I reported it. I guess I was the first guy to work in lingerie so it had never been a problem before.

In the break room, the brunet from Juniors sat on the couch facing me with her legs crossed up on the couch. She lifted her skirt to her waist so I could see her underwear as we talked. The others behind her could not see it, but I think they noticed my reaction. She had a perfect body and very large boobs. I really liked her but when she would orgasm it sounded like the high pitch whales make. My ears actually rang afterwards. I heard she later slept her way up to become ‘buyer’ which paid a lot more.

I was in the mezzanine and looked down into the ‘carpet’ stockroom and caught two display guys doing something naughty. They had wrapped themselves into a carpet roll? WTF. The sad thing was the carpet had been tagged as ‘Sold’.

I caught a couple doing the naughty in the back of the furniture department where displays were partitioned. I reminded them that there were cameras everywhere, then walked away.

A lady gave me a $20 tip once for helping her out to her car with her new lamp. But when she slipped the $20 into my pocket, she took the liberty to squeeze my dong. It was embarrassing because for like 15 seconds she had caught her wedding ring on the thread in my pocket. Long enough for some other stock guys to see the incident, and from then on I got a bad rep as a lady’s man.

The word must have spread because the girl in gift wrap flashed me her breasts?

In the lamp stock room, the asian lady rubbed her butt where no married woman should be rubbing, and she rubbed it in a manner that just the memory of it puts viagra to shame.

The Godiva chocolate girl stocked her goods in small cool room in the housewares stock room. One day, she poked a couple of chocolates with her finger so I could eat them—she marked them as defective. So I kind of felt obligated when she caressed my chest and played with my nipples? WTF? I felt exploited, but did not mind too much.

The cosmetic girl asked to give me a BJ in the small stockroom right behind the counter in the middle of the sales floor. We could hear people walking and talking all around. I imagined her red lips and her caking white face down there and copped out. I mean I was young, but still a company man and had some morals and work ethics. Besides I was scared of her, I was not sure she was really a girl.

My reputation got worse when the little Mexican girl in Men’s Sportswear who wore the short schoolgirl skirt asked me to lunch.. Driving us back in my sports car, I made a sharp right to impress her on the handling. But her coke spilled on my crouch. I did not have time to dry it and when we walked in, she was giggling and I had a wet spot. They started calling me a cradle robber.

I liked the security girl too, but I think she was lesbian. One day she asked me to help her nab a guy because there was no other security available. We caught up to the guy at his car (a corvette) and took him in to the security office. He was wearing a suit and had walked out with a stolen $240 brief case. He said he had a wife and kid, and pulled out a wad of cash and offered $600 to purchase the briefcase at a premium if we would let him go. The security girl said sorry no, maybe for a small item but that item was too expensive and she had to call the cops. He cried. I felt bad for that idiot. She asked him why he did it, and he said he did not know.

Another time the security girl asked me to help nab two Vietnamese girls with a baby in a stroller. They had walked into a fitting room looking very slim, and came out chubby looking. And the baby had extra padding. In the security office, the Vietnamese girls propositioned themselves in exchange for freedom. I think the security girl actually considered it for a moment. I know I did.

And my reputation got worse when a cute 17 year old blond Christmas helper hit on me. I took her out but I swear I never laid more than my hands on her. Nobody believed me. I might as well of had cradle robber stamped on my forehead.

So my rep was getting worse and some guys resented it. One guy attacked me in the warehouse. I had submitted to his asian cousin who worked in Men’s Furnishings. He warned me to stay away, but it was her, not me. Well I happened to quickly defeat him with a judo throw and three other stock guys witnessed it. So now I had a rep of a Man’s man as well as a Lady’s man.

And word must have got out because the customer service manager started giving me presents, calling me to her office for private talks and asked me to the opera. But it was a private opera and when she sang out in bed it gave me the shivers. Word must have got out (not from me) and she was fired. Managers are not supposed to mix with the help.

After that, the girl in women’s dresses offered me her posterior end in the stockroom. She said, “Don’t be afraid, there’s nobody around. I’m ready for you, bleep me now.” But I was a company man and declined any promiscuity at work. I regret that to this very day, but I had heard she had the clap--maybe that’s what stopped me.

I watched a guy pick up a microwave and walk down the escalator with it. I followed him and he walked out the door. I called the security girl and she nabbed him. Apparently there were already 5 other microwaves in his truck. I heard there was a guy at the other end of the store trying to load two clothes racks full of clothes into his truck.

A lady customer asked me to do all kinds of things that involved me reaching up or bending over. I felt like I was being used. Then she grabbed my ass by the check out counter, and I really felt exploited.

Two salesmen were fired for stealing. They said the only reason they worked there was to steal. They would come to work with there backpacks and leave with their backpacks full. They were both from wealthy families and their other job was modeling.

My reputation became worse when the jewelry girl asked me for a weekend on the slopes. We skied in the day and played house in my buddy’s sleeping bag at night. My buddy put his sleeping bag through four washing cycles before he would consider using it again.

The Greek girl in Men’s furnishings asked me up to her apartment at 2am for some coffee. When we walked in, she introduced me to her twin sister. The guys never believed what happened next. I still wouldn’t believe it if it weren’t for the smile still plastered on my face 25 years later.

A half French half Vietnamese beauty talked me into becoming a sales person. But she was fired for taking $10 out of the register before I got to know her.

I won’t go into detail about the catholic girl in Men’s Sportswear—out of respect--other than she had the biggest knockers you have ever seen. Ten years later I told a co-worker about her. And the strangest coincidence was a year later he married the girl. I was invited to the wedding and it was very uncomfortable when she and I could not hide our recognition for each other and he realized she was the girl I had told him about.

I saw a beautiful blond in a transparent white dress. She had nothing on underneath. We walked by each other smiling and then she farted. “Oops!” she said. I turned to her and all I could do was laugh. Sorry, what am I supposed to do? I saw her again outside and got a better view with her dress against the sun. The fart had not spoiled the excitement.

A girl from ‘fine china’ department came up to a guy in the stock room and French kissed him. But she was looking at me the whole time, as if I would care. I think she was upset I had not made a move on her. But she was a maniac, the night before I saw her naked butt bobbing up and down on the short stock guy at a party. And the guy was married by the way.

There were more events involving girls I really liked including sisters, but it’s too personal to go into detail—They may be reading this…Bottom line is I worked at 3 different Macy’s stores over a six year period and during this time 5 Macy girls proposed marriage to me, and 6 Macy guys asked me out (or course I did not say yes.) But the one girl I really really liked, I never had the nerve to ask out. I was too shy, and she was shy. In fact, I never asked anyone out. They all asked me!?!

So I guess the moral of this post is: “All those stories you heard about Department Store women—are probably true, and even a dorky looking, skinny, half Asian shy guy with glasses like me can benefit from working with them …”

Things I heard at Fast Food Joints:

2005-08-18T02:44:00.000-07:00

At Jack-In-The-Box: “Can I have a Whopper with cheese.”

At Jack-In-The-Box: “Can I have a chicken faGEEta.” --Cashier corrects the customer, “faHEEta.” Customer, “no, not fa hee, ta go…”

At Burger King: “I’ll take a Jumbo-Jack.”

At Jack-In-The-Box: “Do you know why Mr. Jack was in jail?” Cashier, “Oh, I don’t know, I can ask the manager…”

At McDonald’s: “Can I have a Big Breakfast, eggs over medium.”

At McDonald’s: “Can I have a McRibb. Oh, you don’t have that here, darn. Ok, I’ll just take fries, do you have the classic fries, you know the ones that taste good? Oh you don’t have those anymore, shucks…And you don’t serve breakfast now right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll just take a Coke. Oh, you only have Pepsi… Hmm, okay, can I have an ice cream cone in a cup? Oh, shoot, out of ice cream huh…Okay, well thanks…” And finally walks away.

At Wendy’s: “Can I have a 99 cent chili, a 99 cent Frosty, and a 99 cent burger –Will five dollars be enough?”

At Togo’s sandwich shop: “Can I have the peppers on the side.” Cashier, “Left or right?”

At Carl’s Junior: “What time do you open?” Cashier, “We are open.” Cust: “How early?” Cashier: “It’s not that early, it’s already 10am.”

At McDonald’s: “Can you please change your baby in the bathroom; people have to eat on that table you know…”

At McDonald’s: “I just tripped on one of your five ‘Caution: Wet floor’ signs, and the floor is not even wet…”

At Wendy’s: “Do you have any finger foods?”

At Taco Bell: “Can I have a large pepperoni pizza to go.”

At Taco Bell: “What time do you close?” Cashier, “we don’t, we’re open 24 hours now.” Cust, “Even better dude, what time do you open?”

At McDonalds: “Can I have a Big Mac.” No answer. “Do you speak English?” Cashier, “Lo siento, no hablo Ingles.”

At Dominos Pizza: “Can I have a large combo.” Cashier, “We’re not taking anymore orders today.” Cust, “why?” Cashier, “because we just fired the cook, he was um, picking his nose over the pizzas.”

At Taco Bell: “Look at that, tell me what that is?” Manager looks at the pubic hair and gives him another taco. Me and the six people behind him are disgusted, but place our orders anyway…

At Dandy Dogs: “I want a refund.” Owner, “no refund, how do I know the bug did not fall from your head?”

At Dandy Dogs: “I wanna speak to the manager. You are the manager? Then I want to speak to the owner. You are the owner? I want to speak to your boss. No boss? You gotta have a boss, get me the franchise director on the phone now?” I tap the guy on the shoulder, tell him I’m a lawyer and will personally make sure the BBC complaint committee gets word of this outrage...He thanks me and walks away. The owner gives me a free coke.

At McDonalds: “To go or for stay?” --Is this proper English? They all seem to talk like this on the East Coast.

Togo’s Sandwich Shop: “Do you know you are making my sandwich with a bloody, soggy, band-aid on your thumb?” Sandwich maker: “I know, I’m sorry I can’t find my gloves.” Co-worker: “I saw a pair on the bathroom floor.” Sandwich maker: “Hey, can you get it for me?...”

KFC: "Do you have a whole chicken, original recipe?”

China wants the U.S. out of Asia

2005-08-15T23:44:00.000-07:00

China and Russia join forces and announce solidarity against the U.S.--Russia and China will hold their first ever joint military exercises this week as the once wary neighbors demonstrate their willingness to cooperate in the face of the U.S. military presence in Central Asia.

Bush immediately responds by re-deploying 16 commandos from Iraq to Okinawa in a pre-empted show of force. “The United States will not be intimidated. We have allies too. We still have Britain, and Italy, and um, Tonga.”

Howard Dean in an unofficial show of respect for China makes an emotional appeal for China to allow the U.S. time to disarm its citizens. “Not all Americans want to obstruct your goal for Asian Domination in the Pacific. As a token of the real American’s submissive stance, I honor the Chinese Prime Minister with this helpless cat.” —Ironically, the Chinese Prime Minister was humiliated when the cat arrived dead from massive spinal injuries and a ruptured eardrum

To Be, Or Not To Be--That Is What Matters...

2005-08-15T02:19:00.000-07:00

The following is testimony to my political beliefs. It was an attempt to help me discover my political identity. But after writing this, I feel like it really does not matter to me if I’m Left or Right. It only matters that I am striving for moral integrity, for good, and for love. I’m satisfied with just that.

GUNS: Pro- Gun. To the beautiful children who die in accidental firearm tragedies, I love you. To the victims of violent crime, emotional lapses, neglect, and innocent by-standers; I love you. And I love America too. And I love the American freedom to bear arms, and envision a responsible American citizenry empowered to exercise this freedom. Other Liberals will argue that this will deny them of their right to live free from the dangers of firearms. But I argue that no one is free from the dangers of life. And an armed, well educated and responsible citizenry is better prepared to face the dangers of life than an unarmed citizenry—better prepared for both internal and external threats to life. The act of not protecting yourself and loved ones to the best of your ability is a crime in my book. We simply live in a world that requires us to protect ourselves, and to mask that requirement is a big mistake. I fear most for the safety of our children. But it’s not our guns that I fear. It’s our own ignorance.

ABORTION: Pro- Choice. I would never recommend it, even under the most tragic of situations, but I am pro-choice. Life is beautiful, but I am for “Highly Educated” decisions to abort. It hurts my heart to see the way some children are treated, but it hurts worse to see them not even get a chance at life. I envision a day when no mother would choose to abort.

WAR: Pro-War. If our country is threatened physically in any way, we must ACT to protect it, period. Other countries who want to survive will do the same. Pre-emptive measures are part of WAR. The citizenry of a nation at war is subject to the hell of war. The stronger our military, the more chance we have to survive. War is hell for everyone, but it is a reality we should not try to pretend does not exist.

PEACE : Pro-Peace. And if someone tries to take that away, then I’ll fight for peace.

DEATH PENALTY: Pro-Death. If an individual delivers evil, his soul is prepared to accept it in return. It is our responsibility to protect ourselves the best way we can. It is my hope that evil doers will choose LIFE for themselves, and protect themselves from the evil within them.

GLOBAL WARMING: Pro-environment. Global Warming is a potential threat. We have to treat it as such and ACT to protect ourselves. Not ignore it just because we’re not sure what kind of threat it will deliver.

SOCIAL SECURITY: Pro-SS. Our government is there to serve us. Let them do their job.

TAX: Pro-Tax. If we don’t contribute, who will? If you have more money, then you ought to contribute more. Close the damn loopholes.

HEALTHCARE: Pro-HC. The government is there to serve us. So serve us already.

ILLEGAL DRUGS: Pro-drugs. Decriminalize it, legalize it and use it if you want. I won’t. And if you harm someone while on drugs, then you go to jail.

GAYETY: Pro-gay. You go boys and girls. You want to get married? You ought to be able to. You want to marry your sister? You ought to be able to. You want to marry 10 women? You ought to be able to. You want to marry your dog, don’t expect your company to include him on your health plan, weirdo.

PROSTITUTION: Pro-prostitution. I won’t partake. But if you want to, then feel free.

BORDER CONTROL: Pro-BC. You put a firewall on your PC don’t you?

POLITICAL CORRECTNESS: Pro-PC. If you want to be sensitive, fine. If you want to call your neighbor a “fatty”, then fine, because the PC thing to do is TOLERATE name calling--Idiot.

RACIAL PROFILING: Pro-RP. Who are we kidding? The perpetrator is White, Black, Latino, Asian or Other. They are not all grey. “All points bulletin for a suspected child abductor…Look for a man wearing tennis shoes, jeans and a grey shirt. His hair is black. His skin color is the standard variant shade of mahogany—nationality irrelevant.” --Give me a break. All races are subject to racial profiling.

FREE SPEECH: Pro-FS. NAACP, PETA, KKK, flag burners—you go boys. But harm anyone, and you go to jail.

CRIME: Pro-Crime. Go ahead and do the crime. Then do the time.

DISCRIMINATION: Pro-Discrimination. Want to discriminate? Feel free because I don’t want to work there anyway. Want to discriminate using affirmative action? Feel free, because I don’t want to work there anyway.

RELIGION: Pro-religion. Believe what you want. Harm anyone, and then go to jail.

SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE: Pro-SCS. Our government is there to serve our well being, not our beliefs. “In God we trust?”, “The national anthem?” Well God is not religious. People are. If the government wants to say “God”, that’s free speech; you can just live with it as I live with people calling me an ‘infidel’.

SPANKING KIDS AT SCHOOLS: Pro-spanking. Go ahead and feel free. But my kid is going to hit back. And in places you won’t like.

SPANKING KIDS AT HOME: Pro-SKH. Go ahead feel free. But I recommend loving your children, ALWAYS. Life is too short to do otherwise, even while disciplining.

EDUCATION: Pro-education. The battle against ignorance is never ending. Adults need a continual supply of education MORE than a child does, because they have more responsibility.

MERCY KILLING: Pro-mercy killing. Do what you gotta do. But I wouldn’t do it. And I wouldn’t wish it on me. Even in pain, I could still pray for others. Even brain-dead, my loved ones will know where my soul is. My spirit wants life as long as it can no matter what. And that’s what it is going to get if I have a say in it.

ARRRGH !!!

2005-08-14T02:50:00.000-07:00

I always thought I was a Republican:
I listen to Michael Savage.
I hate Michael Moore.
I am pro gun to the max.
I voted for Bush.
I can’t stand Feinstein and Boxer.
I like Clint Eastwood, and John Wayne.
I love my guns.
I continually slam my liberal friends.
I am pro Border protection to the max.
I am a lifetime member of the NRA.
I despise the ACLU.
I love my country.
I support our troops.

But I took 6 different political tests:
And the first test was a quicky test and it called me a Centrist, then I took it again a few weeks later and it called me a Libertarian.
The next test called me a Liberal.
Another one called me a Libertarian Liberal.
Another compared me to the leftist Gandhi.
And another illustrated a chart showing me as solid LEFT.
And the most shocking, they called me a Democrat!!!

I WAS STUNNED!

The computers are calling me a stinking Democrat. They’re calling me a damn dirty Liberal.

At first I thought this was some leftist trick, that the tests were all part of a Liberal scheme to convert Republicans.

Then it hit me. Is it possible that deep inside I always knew I was a Lefty, but perhaps ashamed to admit it? I thought of myself as a warrior, not a peace loving hippie. I was a leader of men, not a wuss who was influenced by fraidy-cat women. I was a war monger, not a draft dodging two-bit scumbag you wouldn’t trust in a foxhole.

Am I a bloody in the closet Progressive? Am I outted? I thought you should feel relieved when you’re outted? But my whole world is turned upside down. I am not relieved at all. I feel depressed. Am I a filthy stinking hypocrite Liberal? I think I’m going to be ill.

Is it possible I’m Bi-political??? Is this natural? Now I have no identity. I feel RIGHT, but they say I’m LEFT. But I like Gandhi, and Martian Luther King. And come to think of it, I always bet for the underdog. Maybe the Republican ideal is more paternalistic and took me under their wing. Maybe I was sleeping with the enemy like a whore.

So maybe outwardly I feel RIGHT, but my gut tells me I’m LEFT. Well I’m going to follow my instinct, and my instinct says –Damn I still have a hard time saying it—I’m…a…I’m a…I’m a Li…Li…Liberallllllllllll. Yuck! No, I take that back. I’m not ready for this yet. If there are any Republican’s out there who can save me, please do it NOW…

Modern Art?

2005-08-11T00:32:00.000-07:00

I saw this painting in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. I think the name of it was “Who's afraid of red, yellow and blue.”

It was in a huge guarded room all by itself.

There were people pondering it in deep thought? WTF?

I thought I was on Candid Camera, except they did not allow any cameras in there.

There was a girl on a bench in front of the painting, sketching it?

It was a pretty large painting, but other than that, there was no frame or any other indication of its value.

A Japanese tour group spent 10 minutes discussing that thing.

I just watched the people in utter amazement.

So can anybody tell me what business that painting has in a Museum? I have a can of ‘Chef BOYARDEE’ sitting on my desk that has more appeal than that thing. Maybe I’m just not cultured enough to understand the attraction?

UFO Scare in Southern California

2005-08-10T01:22:00.000-07:00

UFO (top left) frightens onlookers in Southern California where Howard Dean appeared Tuesday to speak at the Green Peace "Save the Sea Otter" ralley.

But a closer look reveals it was not a UFO at all, but rather Howard Dean’s new hair piece.

Witnesses say during Dean’s hysterical speech, his hand knocked off the toupee, launching it high into the air and out to sea.

Dean was later reunited with his toupee after a Green Peace cutter retrieved it--but the mood was dampened when they failed to resuscitate the baby sea otter that had become entangled with the fake hair.

Some Worldly Notations:

2005-08-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

In Germany, you can buy a beer, play foosball, and watch the world cup on 8 TV screens, all at McDonalds.
In France, the waiter will wait until you have eaten eight 4X4 inch slices of cheese before informing you that it’s actually butter.
The girls in France like showing you their breasts.
The Belgium waffles in the U.S. taste better then the ones in Belgium.
In Switzerland, they tell you the ‘Titleist’ golf ball is actually pronounced “Tit-less”
Italians drive small cars.
In London, a lot of taxi cabs are Mercedes Benz’s, because Toyota’s are too expensive there.
London girls are loose.
The guys in London are crazy. They paint themselves blue, wear tall hats and call themselves Hooligans.
Folks in Ireland have beer running in the tap, and always smile when they slug you in the face.
The bathroom on a train in Russia is a box car with a hole in the floor.
If you’re a girl in Holland, you can smash into a guy’s car and get off with a spanking.
In Amsterdam, you can piss in the middle of the street, do drugs in a local bar, then shop for prostitutes in store front windows--All legally.
In China, they sell you a 4X4 inch piece of toilet paper for one third of one penny at the public bathroom. You can only buy one piece each. The lady next to me bargained for 5 minutes to get the price down to one sixth of one penny. Of course, the bathroom is just a room with a hole in the ground.
Some cab drivers in Beijing are members of the Chinese Mafia. They look just like the Sicilian Mafia complete with trench coats. I gave a driver $50 bucks to get to the Hotel pronto, so he crashed through the guard gate at 50 miles/hour then proceeded on the freeway at 100+ miles/hour. At night the road was filled with coal trucks and log trucks with no tail lights. We did not see the trucks until we were right on them and had to swerve to avoid them. I found out later that the 50 bucks was almost 3 months wages for the driver, so he was really, really happy.
The freeway from the airport to Beijing was new. In the past 3 months since it opened, 65 farmers were killed on it, trying to cross to the other side. They put up a fence, but still the farmers were getting run over. Worse than a deer in headlights man.
Very poor children in China look identical to the very poor children in Mexico.
In Mexico, if something falls on your head in the store, you can’t sue anyone—they just consider it a hazard of life—so you have to watch your own ass.
The food in Mexico is outstanding, unless they cook it in local water.
You can get noodles at the McDonalds in Hong Kong.
There are no obese people in china. (maybe one in a couple hundred million, but I did not see them)
I saw ONE obese person in Hong Kong. And only THREE obese people in Taiwan at the post office.
Back in the U.S., there were 14 obese people at the post office out of 16 people in line. And TWO big ones behind the counter. (so odds are I am offending a reader right now--But I'm obese too, so I can say big and fat.)
Pretty girls spit thick spit on the streets of Hong Kong.
In Vietnam, there is usually a large bug found swimming in your soup. But everyone just flicks the bug out and continues eating.
The penalty for smuggling drugs in Taiwan is DEATH, and if you commit a crime with a knife or gun, then you will be shot in the head until dead.
Guards carry machine guns at the Hong Kong airport.
I bought $200 worth of fireworks in a Japanese department store. Then celebrated the Fourth of July with 50 other neighbors in Japan for five fun filled hours. Back in the U.S., there are ZERO neighbors celebrating the Fourth of July in front of their house. It has been illegal to do fireworks in San Jose California for the past 30 some odd years.
The pigeons have slanted eyes in China.
A family of five can commute comfortably in Taiwan on a two wheeled scooter.
In Taiwan, you can pull up to a red light, but before it turns green, 50 to 100 scooters will have cut in front of you. In Beijing, same thing except they are bicycles.
In Beijing, everyone owns a store, and sells the same cheap junk.
After an hour spent outside in Beijing, you have to dig the smog out of your nose with a small spoon. (if you don’t wear a mask)
In Japan, you get a bowl of 30 small fish to eat. And they are still swimming.
In Japan, a cup of joe at one place cost me $29 American dollars.
And a dinner for 3 cost over $2000.
A fancy restaurant in Taiwan cost me $4000+ American. But I saw some cute Taiwanese movie stars and singers there; A couple of them were my wife's friends from high school.
There are karaoke machines at the KFC in Taiwan.
You can still get dog meat in Japan, Taiwan, Korea, Vietnam and China. In china, they had dogs hanging in the little street kiosks.
I had a chicken butt on a stick in Japan.
In China, they served a whole pig. And the anus was served to me in a little bird cage looking thing as the most prized and tender piece.
In the morning in Taiwan, the restaurants smell like urine. Because a prized breakfast to some old timer’s is cooked in horse piss. You can get that in the U.S. too if you go to the right place.
I had duck brain, duck tongue, and duck eyes in China, cow brain soup in Taiwan, and Monkey brain pie in Bangkok.
Southern women are tastier than hot grits on a cold winter morning.
Texas woman can make a man give up steak.
Some golf courses in Japan cost 3 million dollars for an annual membership.
Man’s worst enemy in the Fiji Islands is the mosquito that carries Dingus fever.
The Caribbean is more beautiful than Hawaii in some places, but you have to carry guns on your boat because of the pirates.
There are idiots and perverts anywhere you go.
A man was found in Alaska eaten alive by mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes in Taiwan are so small that they can fly through the mosquito net. In Texas, their so big that they tear holes in the net to get at you.
I hate mosquitoes.
I saw a fish with fur in Montana.
They hunt giant grasshoppers with guns in Oklahoma.
The blind American Indian panhandler in Arizona is not really blind.
The Prostitutes in Michigan call you “sugar” and “Honey”
The Prostitutes in Japan put the American prostitute to shame. Some have all their teeth pulled to provide maximum service. You only get that kind of service in the U.S if the teeth fall out from disease.
You’re a hippie in Tennessee unless the length of your hair can be measured with a thumb tack.
A delicious recipe somewhere in the world becomes extinct every 5 seconds.
The mansions in Rhode Island are like heaven on earth.
They will line up 10 deep behind you at a urinal in India, despite the fact there are three empty stalls available.
In Africa, it is miserable and you are sick the whole time, and mosquitoes provide your only shade and cling to you 24/7.
People in Georgia spend their whole life savings buying the Cherry Cobbler that the old timers sell on the road sides.
There are bikers all over the world. You seldom see a smile on their lips, but their eyes are always smiling.
Canadians are just like Americans, except they are different.
They eat a lot of fish in Greece, Portugal and Spain.
There are lots of beautiful people in the world, who have never seen a napkin, or a toilet bowl.
There are Chinese people in Peru and Ecuador. But they look South American, and they speak Spanish.
New Zealand is beautiful but far away. And there are Chinese people their too, with Kangaroo pets.
Australia is fun, but you can’t shoot the Kangaroos. You can’t shoot anything over there. Kind of like Great Britain and Canada.
I got to visit all 52 states. I like California the best, and worst.
I got to visit a lot of countries, except for the Middle Eastern ones. I heard that in some places they wash the dirt from their driveway with gasoline, because it’s cheaper than water over there.
The U.S.A. is the best place to live on earth. Only here can I have authentic Burmese Mohinga one day, and crawdad gumbo the next.

PETA Esposes Lobster Scandal

2005-08-04T23:00:00.000-07:00

This picture released by PETA calling for the boycott of sea-food giant BL over alleged mistreatment of giant lobsters--
“The captive crustaceans are routinely tortured and humiliated--forced to publicly mate with VW Beetles and in one case a ’67 Corvette Stingray.”

Hillary Rodham Clinton expresses her utter disgust with the debacle, and urges the crustaceans be "treated with total respect up until the moment they are boiled and served on the dinner plate, ha ha..."

Tech Support Follies

2005-08-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

It’s the year 1992, I’m at work in a tech support job, the phone rings, and I have to answer it:

Me: Tech support, this is Vince Parker.
Cust: Who dis?
Me: This is Vince Parker.
Cust: Trench?
Me: Uh, Vince.
Cust: Hi Trench, I need some help installing this software.
Me: Uh, do you have the latest version?
Cust: How I tell dat?
Me: Which size disk you have, 3 1/2 or 5 1/4? (The latest version was on a three and a half inch disk versus the older five and quarter inch.)
Cust: I don't know, how I tell what size dicks I have? Oops! Ha ha, I mean dicks. Oops, oh my lord. Ha ha. Di..Diss..cks. I can’t say dat word, ha ha…
Me: No problem, it’s a hard one.
Cust: (silence) Ha ha, oooh, I’m sorry brotha you cracken me up…Okay, how I tell what dissk I got? (Huh, I think she thinks I’m black.)
Me: Do you have the disk in front of you?
Cust: Yeah nigga got it right hea in front a ma face, hehe (Yup, she thinks I’m black, I think it’s my name Parker and the fact I tend to talk in the same manner/accent as my customers)
Me: Well, is the disk small blue and hard, or Big Black and Floppy?
Cust: (silence) Heeeeeeeee, heeee, akk*@choke$%, heee heee ha ha haaaaaa he he @choke$% he he...Okay...It's...It's...hehe...the Big... Black one he heeee.
Me: Okay, okay, so you got a hold of it?
Cust: Heeee he..Yeaha…He he.
Me: Okay good, now make sure the label is up, and stick it in the Big slot, not the small one…etc. etc…

I swear she could not stop laughing, she was a fun person, and I wanted to work in her office... The next two calls in combination one right after the other was very freaky:

Me: Tech support, this is Vincent Parker.
Cust1: Mitten?
Me: No, Vincent. (Who the hell has a name of Mitten?)
Cust1: Gretchen?
Me: No, Vincent, V-I-N-C-E-N-T.
Cust1: Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were a woman…
Me: ...May I have your name please. (standard question because that’s how we verified they were a registered owner)
Cust1: Vince Williams.
Me: I’m sorry, did you say Stinch?
Cust1: Vince, V-I-N-C-E same name as you boy…(he thought I was black too.)

So I finish the call and the phone rings again immediately after I hung up with Vince Williams:

Me: Tech support, this is Vincent Parker. (in a clear, deeper voice)
Cust2: Hi Vincent, I need tech support.
Me: Okay, may I have your name please?
Cust2: Mitten Adchareevulacul. (what?)
Me: Did you say Mitten? M-I-T-T-E-N?
Cust2: Yes…

I could not believe it, but sure enough there was a Mitten Adchareevulacul in the registration book. What are the odds or that happening on the very next call? Let alone at all? What kind of name is “Mitten” anyway?

Through the years on the phone, I’ve been mistaken for Dennis, Vance, Vinch, Stench, Ben, Benson, Trance, Trench, Gretchen, Finch, Pince, Prince, John? Smith, Wince, Pincent, Wincent, etc, etc…And Mitten!

Philosophy Gone Mad

2005-08-02T00:55:00.000-07:00

A Liberal, Conservative and a Wiseman meet on a mountain top to discuss the Secret of World Peace…

Liberal: So what’s the secret of world peace?
Wiseman: The secret lies in the philosophical definition of a Liberal. And it is the Liberal who holds the power to unlock it.
Conservative: So what’s the philosophical definition of a Liberal?
Wiseman: A Liberal is a progressive who chooses the losing end of arguments because the Conservative is too ignorant to do so.
Liberal: But that does not make any sense?
Wiseman: Precisely.
Conservative: But I don’t know what you mean?
Wiseman: Exactly.
Liberal: This is a stupid discussion, you’re wasting my time. I’m outta here. (The Liberal backs down and leaves the mountain. )
Conservative: Wait, I think I am getting it…The Conservatives already use the secret, so are on the winning end of arguments, but don’t know why? Right?
Wiseman: Correct.
Conservative: So tell me why?
Wiseman: Wrong question.
Conservative: Well, uh, tell me what the secret is?
Wiseman: Right question, but the Conservative already uses the secret, and merely revealing what is already used, won’t impact the progression of World Peace. As I said, the Liberal holds the power to unlock it.
Conservative: So it’s the Liberal who needs to know the secret?
Wiseman: Precisely.
Conservative: But he’s not here!
Wiseman: Exactly…

Learn the Secret of World Peace here.

Woes on Capital Hill

2005-08-01T12:24:00.000-07:00

Disappointed Bush seen here with Bolton after Bolton is spotted holding hands with Howard Dean in bathroom.
Shortly after, Bush recants Bolton’s appointment as US Ambassador to the UN.
Unfazed, and in an unprecedented move, Bush quickly ‘outsources’ Saudi Arabia's Crown Prince Abdullah to the task of US Ambassador to the UN.

Strange Happenings

2005-07-31T16:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I met for lunch with a group of prestigious spiritual adventurers. We met at an Afghan restaurant and the chicken curry was delicious. The owner of the restaurant looked like a terrorist, and he stopped by and started expressing the need for peoples of the world to get a long, and that we are all one family. I said, “Since we are family, can you give me the recipe for this chicken curry?” He said of course, but proceeded to ramble on for another five minutes until everyone forgot about my recipe…

We sat for hours discussing metaphysics, movies, cross dimensions, UFO’s, politics, religion, OBE, ESP, psychic phenomenon and any other mystical and spiritual topic you can think of. When the meet ended I headed for my motorcycle so I could get home before it got too dark so I could avoid the drunk drivers. But just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. They invited me to dinner. I was hungry again, so I agreed to meet them at Mimi’s Café only a few blocks away.

I had a hamburger and fries. (Very delicious) One psychic numerologist began discussing how the universe was communicating with her through the number “19”. Everywhere she went the number “19* would touch her in some way. I voiced out that this was hog wash, and that every number touches us in some way. I moved to prove her wrong and pulled out my wallet. I said I am going to pick a random dollar bill and if the number “19” is anywhere in the serial number, then she can have the dollar. Well there was a “19” smack dab in the middle of the serial number. They all looked at me with a ‘knowing” look in their eyes. I was disgusted. But I’m glad I did not have a twenty in my wallet. I said I hope this “19” thing is not catching, and they said it was, and that I too would be touched by the “19.” Yeah right, I thought. [Side note: I swear to God as I write this, I just checked my wallet to see if maybe all the dollar bills had a “19” in the serial number. All I had left in my wallet were one dollar bills. I scanned through them and not one had a “19” let alone smack dab in the middle. Then my heart jumped. I counted the dollar bills and there were 18!!! I had given the numerologist my 19th dollar!]

Well, back at Mimi’s, I had had enough and stood up, looked at my cell phone clock and said, “Its 7:48 I ought to be getting home.” The numerologist said, “19.* We all counted mentally and it added up. Shit. I ended up staying for another 3 or 4 hours. They started discussing the year 2012 when the Mayan calendar ends. I was amazed by this and did some research on the topic. Here is more info on the topic FYI: (http://www.halexandria.org/dward415.htm)

We finally adjourned and I was looking forward to my ride home. I got on the bike and the odometer read “66.6.” Damn, not again, this seems to be happening way too often. Just last week I met a buddy at the “Chicken Coop” for lunch, and when I parked the odometer read 66.6 then too, it’s happened like 9 times this past month alone.--On a bike, there is no “low fuel indicator” so you always have to check the odometer to calculate how much riding time you have left. Then when you get gas, you clear it and it resets back to zero again.--So I just shrugged it off and shook the numbers out of my head so I could enjoy my ride home.

Ha, no drunk drivers, no close calls, no nothing. I’m not superstitious and the “numbers” mean nothing, I thought. I mean that “psychic” girl could not even add up the check, how can she be a numerologist? I took a wrong turn and had to double back. I took some back roads and cruised through the quiet neighborhoods at night. Uh oh…Mimi’s was only ten miles from my house, but I had taken some detours. Shit. I pulled into my garage and looked at my odometer and it read “85.6” What the Fu_k? I had ridden EXACTLY “19” miles. And what the Fu_k, 856 adds up to “19” too!!! And Fu_k me, it was “19” minutes past the midnight hour.

This is all fu_king coincidence right? It clicked in my head the 2012 event will happen 18 years form now, ha! But when I checked some web sites, they said, “The End of the Mayan Calendar is scheduled for December 21, 2012. (give or take a year.)” –Give or take a year? So it could be “19” years right? Okay so maybe something is going on after all. I guess I ought to wager that the world will significantly change in the year 2013, “19” years from now. So maybe the universe does love me, but how do I return my love to the universe? All I do is piss on it everyday when I have to go to the bathroom…

Mississippi Running

2005-07-30T05:54:00.000-07:00

I hit Mississippi running in 1969 at age eight. We lived in a small trailer on dirt lot off a dirt road surrounded by very tall pine trees. It was very hot and my mom spent a lot of her time with her head in the freezer. The guy in the trailer off to our left used to sit outside and skin his rabbits. Until he died when his trailer got hit with lightning and it burned to the ground. A stray dog came by once with ticks in his ear the size of large grapes. Ticks are black, but when they get that bloated, they turn white. They looked like small balloons, so we took them out and lined them up on a wooden two-by-four. Then we popped them with a hammer (not a very pleasant pastime.)

We were poor, but not as poor as the Black family in the small one room house we passed in our Pontiac Tempest when driving to the Meridian Naval Air Station. I remember one time there was a dead horse in front of their house. The mother and ten kids always seemed to be sitting on the porch in front of the house, and waived at us as we drove by. We waived back.

I started the 3rd grade at the Eastside Westside School. Five years earlier, the school was operated under legally mandated segregation, with the Blacks on the Eastside and the Whites on the Westside. But in 1964, President Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act, and abolished segregation in Mississippi and throughout the South. But the classes themselves seemed a little segregated still. The Blacks and Asians were in one class, and the Whites in the other class. I was half Asian and placed in the 'Black' class. My teachers were Black. When I was bad, I was hit with a two inch thick, two foot long wooden paddle. The girl who sat next to me was bad all the time. One day, the teacher knocked her to the floor and threw her desk on top of her. Then she dragged her by the hair out the door and slammed her against the hall wall. She fell to the floor and just sat there. The teacher picked up the girl’s books and threw them at her then slammed the door. The girl had been literally kicked out of the class.

The school bus stopped to pick me up right in front of our trailer. One girl stuck her head out the window and caught her long hair on a tree branch. It ripped her hair right off and she crashed into the window frame like a rag doll. She had been scalped alive, but died of a broken neck. Two Filipino brothers road the bus, and they always had their fists clinched tight like they were about to hit someone. The bigger brother was in my class and I did not like him, he had a funny looking head like Bert on Sesame Street. One day I saw him and his brother in the woods, and I don't know why, but I gave Bert a shove. Big mistake! They beat the living shit out of me. Their bodies were hard and their fists were harder. The little brother hit low while Bert hit high. I had martial arts training, but I did not even get a chance to use any of it. They left me on the ground and walked away. Not a word was spoken from anyone during the whole ordeal—kids did not mouth off back then like they do nowadays I guess.

The next day I got on the bus and sat right next to them. (I guess to show I was not afraid) They ignored me, but kept their fists clenched, ready for action. A few days later I saw Bert and his brother in the woods again. And they were in a standoff with six Black boys—they were in trouble and something was about to go down. I went up to them and stood by the brothers and clenched my fists too, ready to fight. The brothers turned their heads to me, and then turned back to the Black guys, looking a little more confident about the situation. I wasn’t surprised the brothers made enemies, because they just attracted trouble somehow. I think it was their clenched fists. The Black leader seemed to recognize me and asked, “Are you Bonnie’s brother?”

I said questionably, “Yeah?”

He said, “I seen you and Bonnie with Maddie. Maddie’s my sister.”

I said, “Maddie-May?” He nodded.

"Maddie-May’s my sister’s best friend, you’re her brother?” I asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m Mike.”

Everyone seemed to relax and the fight was over before it began. Mike, Bert and I quickly became best friends. Bert turned out to be a very cool guy, and Mike was my first Black friend, and we all actually cried when I had to leave for Texas three years later. I still have the going away gift they gave me. It is a “High Chaparral” book signed by them—“Comrades Forever.”

We climbed Goblin’s Glen together, explored the haunted house together and jumped over the spiked fence of the forgotten cemetery, hidden with vines and underbrush where baby tombstones gave us the quivers. We climbed pine trees and ate wild blackberries and peaches, and stole corn and watermelons from farms. My dog Prince and cat Niko would follow us as we walked through the woods. They were both black and Niko was a larger than normal cat. People said it was very strange for a cat to follow people around like that, but my Niko was an exception. One day Prince ran ahead of us and we heard a gun shot. A few minutes later Prince found us in the woods with a smile in his eyes and a chicken in his mouth. Bert, Mike, Prince, Niko and I ran like hell in case the farmer was still giving chase. Prince went off to eat the chicken and Niko followed later to see what was left.

In the woods, we would hear mountain lions roar nearby and carried sticks for protection. One day when Prince was not with us, Niko ran ahead in the brush and fought a bobcat that was twice as big as her. The noise they made was very scary and the fight seemed to last an eternity. Finally, the bobcat ended up running away. The bobcat’s footprints were the size of a silver dollar and we honored Niko for saving our lives against such a formidable foe.

We hung out by Mike’s house a lot. He was very poor and lived in a small wooden, unpainted one room shack. The bathroom was a roll of toilet paper on a low tree branch in the back. He had no electricity and no plumbing or running water. But Mike was wise and showed Bert and I how to spear frogs at night in the swamps. He showed us the bat caves and we watched the bats against the night blue sky at dusk. He taught us how to fish for catfish using a vine, hook, stick, and bloodworms that we dug up from a cornfield. He showed us insects and flowers I’ve never seen before or since. We all ran barefoot in the woods until the bottoms of our feet became as tough as raw hide. We developed a Southern Drawl and attended a small Baptist Church where everyone was Black but me and Bert. We were in Mississippi, running wild and free through the woods without a care in the world. Mike was our leader, and he showed us what life was about. He showed us that life was about having fun with whatever happens to be around you.

And as kids, we never knew or cared about the dangers that loomed in our midst. We never knew about the KKK or the animosity between the Whites and Blacks. If Mike knew, he never mentioned it.

Then I got sick again and they took out my left kidney. When I was in the hospital, Niko got in a fight with a water moccasin (a poisonous water snake) and she was poisoned from the bites and developed gangrene--I was always worried about her running off into the swamps at night. I was told she went off into the woods to die. But the day I returned home, Niko came limping into our trailer and stood in front of me as I sat on the couch. My family and I just stared at her in silence and awe that she was still alive. Her glassy eyes lit up and she dropped to the floor, but held her head up, still looking at me. She purred, blinked, then slowly laid her head down and closed her eyes. Then she simply stopped breathing and died. My family said Niko was strong and waited until I returned home before she would die.

They said it was unusual for a cat to die in front of people. I still remember the quiet times Niko and I spent together in the woods. We would just sit next to each other and silently enjoy the nature around us, and enjoy each other’s company. The silent understanding and connection we had gave us an even stronger bond then I shared with my ‘comrades’. I loved Niko, and she loved me--in Mississippi.

Terrorist Nabbed in London

2005-07-29T15:17:00.000-07:00

Scotland Yard nabs terrorist trying to smuggle himself into London dressed like a giant bag of Cocaine. Authorities say this may indicate a disturbing trend that the terrorists are becoming more ‘daring’.

New Threat

2005-07-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

Monster shark caught walking the streets in south Florida. Officials say don't panic, they move slow and can be easily outrun. But warn to get out of the pools if you see one approaching.

VIBES: The magnificent OBE

2005-07-27T01:34:00.000-07:00

I experienced my first Out of Body Experience (OBE) at age 17. I had been reading a comic called ‘Doctor Strange’, which featured a mystic superhero who could Astral Project. I was so intrigued by this that I wanted to do it too. I must have been thinking about it a lot, so it was fresh in my subconscious, because it happened. But I was not prepared for it, and did not even know what to expect. I documented the following in my journal on July 11, 1978:

"It happened, my God it happened. I was awakened by a strong and powerful force. A vibration. My body was caught in an unknown wrath. It felt like my whole body was being electrocuted except there was no pain. It was like God was giving me a full body massage—like every atom of my body was vibrating. My mind was awake. Fear was very strong in these few moments of vibration (approx. 30 seconds). I thought I was dead or dying. I was afraid. The most fearful thing that I have ever experienced. I could not move. I called for my cat "Misty" countless numbers of times, but no sound came out. I could not move. All I could do was fear and struggle in my mind for this force to stop."

"The vibrations got stronger and the high pitch sharp tone that is a constant visitor to my ears became so loud, almost unbearable as if it were amplified 10 times its normal volume. I was scared. I knew this was not normal. I did not know if I were dead or alive, but all I thought about was trying to get back to my normal state of being. As I was calling to Misty I could swear I could see the room in front of me (was it real or memory?) As the powerful wrath held me, my ears pounding with its own high tone, the physical world entered my ears and moments after I could see through the slight opening in my eyelids. The sound of the cars on the freeway became a dominant sound in my ears as if it too, became amplified 10 times. (The inner sound was still louder than the freeway noise.) Then the powerful vibrations stopped, as suddenly as it started. I opened my eyes, heard misty groan, and just laid there on my side for a while, thinking, afraid to move."

I did not actually ‘leave’ my body, but I knew the ‘Vibes’ had to be the gateway to OBEs. I did not know they were called OBEs at the time, but I went to the library and looked up Astral Projection (no computers back then.) I discovered that others had experienced OBEs and there were books on the subject. I read all I could find on the subject. And I learned that the vibrations (I call them Vibes) were indeed the key. Two months later in September I had two OBEs. In October I had five. And between 1978 and 2005 I’ve had thousands.

I learned meditation techniques to help induce the Vibes. I learned how to concentrate on keeping the Vibes active, and making them stronger by controlling them, and making them pulsate from head to toe. I lifted my Astral hand. I lifted out of my body. I’ve explored my room, passed through walls and flew through my neighborhood. The sensation of the Vibes is magnificent. The sensation of floating out of your physical body is extraordinary. It’s a fucking blast and I’m still not used to the Vibes—it’s simply not normal. That is why I never told anyone about it until 1994 when I wrote a small publication on it. I was afraid people would think I was a freak. And this is the first time since 1994 that I am blogging about it. Now I don’t care what people think, and people are more open minded now anyway. I tried it all: The umbilical cord thing; the light at the end of the tunnel thing; the near death thing; (when I was near death) the talking to dead relatives thing; the OBE without vibrations thing; the reading the book while in astral form thing; the visiting friends in their room across town thing; the touching other people thing; the visiting past and future thing; the having sex with other astral projectors thing—female astral projectors of course, I am an out of the closet heterosexual; the flying to other planets thing; the diving into the ground thing; the flying to heaven thing; and the healing yourself with the Vibes thing.

But I could never prove to myself for a certainty that I was really leaving my body. I would put a playing card behind my speaker without looking at it, and then I would go to sleep. When I left my body I would take a look at the card in my astral form and remember it. Then when I woke up I would check the card. I never got it right. So for a while, I believed the whole OBE thing was just a Super Charged Lucid Dream on Steroids (SCLDS)—see my post about SCLDs for more info on this. And I believed the room I was seeing, the neighborhood, and the friends were only recreated in my mind from memory, so it only seemed real.

My theory changed when I started having precognitive dreams, precognitive day-dreams, precognitive lucid dreams and precognitive OBEs. Psychic dreams man. I could see the future. Now this is one mind blowing reality. And I’ve had hundreds. And they always freak me out and amaze me. I’ve used them to win at the race tracks, the stock market, and a couple of weeks ago, the slot machines. But I’m not filthy rich because I can’t control when or what I can foresee. But I can without a doubt in my mind, see the future in my dreams. Now what does this mean? This means that there must be a dimension where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously. And I can tap into this dimension. And my belief is that if I can do it, anyone can—because I refuse to believe I am any more special or any less special than anyone else. This OBE thing has made me feel that everyone is connected and just one large entity. It has made me happy for life, no matter what tragedies and trials I must face. And no matter when the ultimate tragedy we all face will happen. (The death of loved one and death of self) Because I know that even in death, we still exist, because we are all so much more than what our physical senses reveal to us.

So how does this explain why I believe OBEs are for real? Well if you think about it, when you leave your physical body, you obviously perceive the world using different senses that you possess in the physical world. So with an OBE, you exist in a different dimension that occupies the same space, a cross dimensional reality. You can throw the rules of the physical world that you experience with your conscious mind out the window. And if you think about it, you are actually out of your body at any given moment already anyway. Just think about the infinite universe. It is as infinite outwards as it is inwards. Think of cutting a pencil in half. And keep cutting the halves in half. And when you are down to the atoms, cut them in half. And notice it never ends. Each of us holds an infinite universe within our own bodies. We each hold all the infinite wisdom of everything that ever lived and ever will live.

Most of us cannot comprehend this because we rely on our physical senses to determine what reality is. We rely on our physical senses to survive. But the truth is our physical senses only allow us to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch only a very small part of reality.

We all have suppressed or underdeveloped Extra Sensory Perception (ESP) capabilities. Some of us have some measure of active ESP capabilities. That is what an OBE is; it is an ESP, a form of clairvoyance that allows one to ‘see’ with a sixth sense, or third eye. . Maybe you don’t believe in ESP. Well I do. My precognition dreams are ESPs too; the ability to ‘see’ into the future. And the money I’ve made is testimony to this ESP. My mom uses ESP but does not talk about it. One night my mom was awakened from her sleep by the sound of her friend calling her for help, a sound that was in her mind. Her friend was at home 15 miles away having a stroke. My mom called 911 and told them to go to her friend’s house, and that she was in trouble. Her friend later remembered calling out to my mom in her mind. (She could not talk during the stroke) My mom saved her life. This is an ESP called mental telepathy; the ability to read minds. And her friend’s life is their testimony of ESP. And my mom ‘knows’ when I am in trouble. And she knows it is ESP but never elaborates on the subject. I’ve seen her move silverware, and break rice bowls with her mind. This ESP is called psychokinesis or PK; the ability to move/control objects with the mind. My sister is actively practicing psychic healing, psychic readings, and performs regressions into past lives. This ESP is called total weirdness, the ability to do weird things for people. (I’m sorry, I think this is just weird and don’t know the official term for it—maybe psychic? I tease her and call her psycho or telepathetic.) But her customers and those that have been healed by her are testimony to this ESP capability. I think ESP is something that runs in our family. I don’t know what powers my brother has—maybe all that dope in the seventies messed up his mind.

My sister and I can read auras. We just talked about it one day and found out we each do it. We looked at our father and we both saw a bright green aura, something I’ve never seen before. My sister said that meant something was wrong with his body and it was actively trying to heal itself. I just use aura reading when I travel by air. If I ever see people with black auras, then that means impending death. So I will get off the plane along with anyone else who chooses to believe me. This is not an ESP, because anyone can do it with their own eyes if they know what to look for, but I thought I would mention it.

The bottom line is I now believe OBEs are for real. And they are very fun, and worth talking about. And I believe that with practice, anyone can enjoy the OBE/ESP, and that it is something inherent in all of us. You know, like we all have a brain. Sometime soon, I’ll post a guideline on how anyone can have an OBE.

Superheros Part 2

2005-07-26T00:11:00.000-07:00

After the commotion stopped, I flew out of hiding and down to the front of the building where there were like 20 black vans and cars and a bunch of guys I assumed were all ‘good’ guys. I guessed maybe they were CIA or the equivalent. These guys did not see me, and one guy even walked right through me before I could move away. There were five bad guys lying dead and scattered around the front entrance. One guy was pretty mangled and looked like he fell from a high place. The superheroes and the ninjas were not around. One of the CIA guys identified the bodies and came across one he referred to as the “Catch of the Day.”

The ‘Chief’ looked at the catch and said, “Great, we got what we came for. Forget the others inside and clear out these bodies. Let’s move out!” He turned to one of the CIA guys and ordered him to call at least five different agencies whose acronyms I did not recognize. He told him to find out which one was responsible for releasing whatever weapon it was the killed the five bad guys. I was thinking it had to be the superheroes or the ninjas, because I did not do anything.

After I watched them dump the bodies into the vans and drive off, I realized that I really had to take a piss. So I entered the building to look for a bathroom. The first room was medium sized and there was smoke, broken boards, bullet holes and broken glass. And I noticed three or four dead bodies near the windows. I passed the room into a hallway and found a bathroom on the left. I unbuckled and unzipped. Darn, this means I will probably wake up soon. Just then, I heard footsteps and saw a man running past the bathroom door. He was a bad man in a white shirt with a shoulder holster swinging as he ran. I zipped up before I actually peed, thinking I can still prolong the dream. So I followed him. He went upstairs to a larger brightly lit room joined by another large room. There were about 15 bad guys there, and the holster guy was there at a table talking hysterically to five of them. The others were scattered about, some of them nursing wounds.

A woman came out from another room, probably the kitchen. She walked up closer to me and said, “Who the hell is he?” Everyone looked around confused—they could not see me, only the women could see me. She looked down at my crouch with my belt still unbuckled, and I grabbed her right breast. I know this was wrong, but she had cleavage. They were comfortably large and heaving, and sticking out of her blouse, and I did not have all my wits—it was a dream for goodness sakes. So I grabbed her breast and she screamed. Then she pointed at me and shouted, “ge…get him!” Everyone's eyes darted in my direction, there faces still sporting confused looks. I panicked and flew through the wall behind me.

I ended up in a dark room. There was a big guy facing down on the bed wearing a wife-beater tee shirt. I saw a door and flew to it, but it was a closet with just a bunch of suits hanging around. Darn, I had to take a piss really bad. I came out of the closet and saw the bedroom door open, and several bad guys were running down the hall towards me. Damn, I really gotta piss. I flew to the ceiling and tried to fly threw it but got stuck. It was gooey and I was loosing my powers. The bad guys were almost to the room, and I had to take a piss soooo bad. I knew this was the end of the dream, and I would never get a chance to find out what would happen next. Sometimes after waking up from a loud noise, I can go right back to sleep and continue my lucid dream, but not if I have to take a piss…

I woke up, opened my eyes, and then headed straight to the bathroom…But when I got there, the lady with the big breasts was sitting on my toilet looking at me with evil eyes! Damn, stupid dream is not over yet, and scaring me to death. Finally, I wake up for real this time and cautiously head for the toilet. Coming Soon: “VIBES: The magnificent OBE”

Superheros Part 1

2005-07-25T03:19:00.000-07:00

A lucid dream is where you wake-up and become conscious in a dream, like the Sausalito Bay sample I wrote earlier. And usually you just follow the story line of your dream in progress, with the power to control what you do and where you go. A Super Charged Lucid Dream (SCLD) is something I kind of came across on my own, because I’ve never read about it anywhere. This is where you wake up ‘before’ you have a dream, so you can control what kind of story-line you want to play with. Using an SCLD, I’ve swam with whales, walked with dinosaurs, explored other planets, drank water from a puddle in a dark jungle with a white tiger, and had wonderful (consensual) sex with strange women. You know, if I see a good looking ‘dream’ girl, I just ask if I can force myself on them, and they usually say yes. If they say ‘no’, then I walk or fly away.

The point is, an SCLD can be more fun than a regular lucid dream. And I started having SCLDs because I did not want to waste half of my life just sleeping. So I figured a way to have a blast when I sleep.

Last night, I woke up at that critical time when you are in a state between sleep and wakefulness. You can tell when you are in this state because your physical body is paralyzed and you can’t move. Your body has a built in mechanism that protects you from getting hurt by releasing a chemical that paralyzes you and prevents you from physically acting out your dreams. You may notice your sense of hearing is amplified in this state also. It is in this state where you can launch an Out of Body Experience (OBE) and actually leave you physical body (for me this requires control of what I call ‘Vibes’, which is a strong feeling of vibrations) or you can launch an SCLD. Last night, I did not get control of the ‘Vibes’, so I just settled for an SCLD.

I rolled over on my stomach and pushed up out of my body until I bounced off the ceiling. In an OBE you will ‘see’ your own room and be physically removed from your body and ‘see’ via your minds eye. In this case I just had the sensation of being Out of Body, but in reality everything was happening in my mind, so the room I ended up in was just some dream room. Once I can fly around the room, I have some time to decide what kind of dream I want. If I want to have an SCLD under water, for example, I just think about it, the pass through a wall to find myself underwater. In this case, I just left it up to chance as to where I would end up, so I did not ‘think’ of a theme. I just flew through the wall and out into the night air of a normal looking city. It’s a weird feeling to fly through windows/walls and such because it’s a sensation not normally experienced.

I decided to fly up high, until I came upon an alley below where two dogs were running. I flew in for a closer look and the dogs saw me and began barking and tried to nip at my feet, but I flew back up way out of their range.

I proceeded to through the city to see if I could find anything interesting to write in my blog. To my right, I heard some commotion and saw the flashing of light. I decided to take a look, so I flew in that direction. I looked below on a building top and spotted two figures crouched down—they were dressed in a blue and green superhero looking costumes, and looked like they were about to do something.

I flew down behind the female superhero and said, “You guys need some help?”

They turned and looked around like they could not see me, so I said, “You can’t see me?”

And the female said, no but we can hear you.”

I said, “Oh. Well, could you use some help?”

The male superhero said, “Sure, we need to have the floors cleared.”

I said, “What do you mean?” and he said, “You know, we need the floors cleared floor by floor. “

I asked him, “Okay, do you want me to start at the bottom or the top?” But before he could answer, I heard a noise on the other side of the building and told them to wait there a minute. So I flew around to the other side and saw four figures hiding behind some outcrops on the roof. They were dressed in black and looked like a cross between ninjas and commandos.

I flew up behind them and said, “Are you guys with the super heroes on the other side?”

They all turned in my direction and the one closest to me looked at me and said, “Who are you?”

I asked, “You can see me?”

“Yeah.” He said matter-of-factly, and pointing to the guy on his right continued, “So can he, but the others can’t see you.”

“And you’re not bothered by the way that I’m just floating out here like this?”

“No.”

“Oh.” I said, but before I could continue all hell broke loose. There were alarms and gunshots and lights and the ninjas just dropped from their positions down their ropes. And I heard one of them shout, “They're on to us!” And I just hid behind a wall until all the commotion stopped. You know I feared for my life. I mean, in hindsight, I could have just flown away, or protected myself with a force field, or just willed myself invincible, but sometimes even in a lucid dream, you get caught up in the action and don’t think of these things. I mean it all happened so fast. Occasionally I will lose my lucidity in a dream, but I knew I was still lucid because I was thinking, what kind of stupid dream am I in anyway? And I have died in lucid dreams before, but merely brought myself back to life. But non-the-less, I hate dying—it feels terrible. So I hid like the invincible coward I am.

Anyway, I have to go now, so I will continue this story in my next post…

I became a soldier

2005-07-21T17:51:00.000-07:00

I became a soldier in Okinawa, sometime between 1967 and 1969. The Vietnam War was raging. It was all over the TV, fighting, shooting, bombing, monks setting themselves on fire, and naked children burned alive from napalm. We watched war movies like ’The Green Berets”, war shows like “Combat” and we played war with plastic machine guns and grenades. We played war in the same jungles where thousands lost their lives in the previous war. We found old bullet shells, bayonets and dozens of tunnels and caves where the Japs hid out. (I can say Jap because I am half Japanese)

Jets flew over our house daily, and I dove for cover, pretending they were Japs attacking. The double bladed helicopters were my favorite and I used to call them Grasshoppers because that’s what they looked like. They were huge helicopters used to move heavy equipment and vehicles. Outside of Kadena Air Base there was a clearing where the Grasshoppers dropped off all the damaged trucks, jeeps and tanks form Nam. The clearing must have been at least a square mile and it kept growing. As far as the eye can see, a mass of olive green mangled steel. I got in trouble for playing there, but I did get to play in some neato (word we used back then) tanks, jets and Grasshoppers. And the GI’s gave us rides in their jeeps, and I got to ride in an amphibious tank once too. My father was in Nam, but some of the GI’s on base showed me their guns and gear. They let me shoot a machine gun. It was set up on tripods and I got to shoot at least a hundred rounds at a silhouette man. I blew that silhouette man to shreds. But I picked up an expended shell and burned my hand before the GI could warn me. I got to climb up a tall wooden tower where they rigged me in a harness and slid me down a cable that emulated a parachute jump. The GI’s used it for practice. I must have done that a dozen times before it was “shit on a shingle” time.

All I wanted to be was a soldier and fight for my country. Fight for Lyndon B. Johnson. But when I got sick I saw the other side of the war. The Military Hospital was filled with wounded GI’s, missing legs, arms, hands, feet and eyes. They were lying on stretchers moaning, and so was I. I had a tube sticking out of my bladder for about a week. It was held in place by prongs in my bladder much like an arrow head. The only way to take it out was to pull it. I did not know how to curse back then, but Damn! When it got infected the Doc opened up the hole and I could see the pink flesh as he scooped out the pus with his finger. Damn! But I never cried. Not even when they stuck a tube in my penis and jammed it into my bladder for some stupid test, then pulled it out again. (Although I did tear up from the pain) It was the most painful thing I ever felt. They did this procedure six times, and by the seventh time I said, “no more.”

But a GI wheeled into my room with the same tube, only his tube was much larger, and he said he heard that I never cried or screamed. He said he was going through the same thing and it was something that the Docs had to do. He said he knew how it hurts and was proud of me no matter what, but if I let the Docs finish the tests, I would be braver than most men in his platoon. The GI looked like hell. He looked like he was the one that needed the pep talk, and his eyes were tearing up from pain too—I heard that the test hurts worse for an adult.--so I said, “Okay, if you finish, then I’ll finish.” I felt sorry for the guy, and I did it for him. And I was prouder than ever, to be among soldiers.

I’m still a soldier at heart today, and trust our leaders act on what’s best for our country. Sure our leaders make mistakes, but it’s a soldier job to follow orders without question. If they don’t, then we won’t win the wars that need winning.

My grandfather killed Japs in WWII and I’m proud of his service. That was his job, and he did it for our country. My mom was a little girl in Tokyo when B-52 bombers dropped their bombs. Most everyone in her school was killed and she saw her best friend screaming and burning alive. My mom was hit in the chest and stomach from shrapnel and almost died. But her father was a doctor and saved her life. My mom loved her older brother who was drafted to become a Kamikaze. They drafted college students because they can more quickly learn how to fly. He was a soldier on the “other” side willing to die for his country. But he died of a stroke before his mission.

After the war, my mom’s uncle became General Douglas McArthur’s tailor in Japan. McArthur used to bring my mom gifts, and he taught her some English. He gave her an apple when all she had to eat was powdered milk and crackers. My mom admired McArthur, and grew up wanting to be an American.

Today, sixty years after WWII, I still get blamed for bombing Pearl Harbor (where I was born, by the way, in Tripler Hospital right by the harbor.) I am called a nip, jap, gook, slopehead, chink (?), slant eyes, and dirty yellow monkey. My white relatives hate Japanese. My white, Vietnamese and Korean girlfriends all hated Japanese. And my Chinese wife hates Japanese. And this is because they all lost loved ones or relatives to the Japanese in the war. And I think this is natural and healthy response to the atrocities Japanese committed in the war.

So even though I never personally ever killed anyone’s loved ones, I take the shit. I take the shit for the GI in Okinawa who took shit in Vietnam for you and me. And I take the shit for the American soldier in IRAQ who is taking shit right now, for you and me. Because if an American Soldier has to take shit, then I’m right there beside him. Support our Troops.