Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Thursday, March 31, 2011

This Looks Like The Lead-Up to One of Those Bar-Parking-Lot Fights

Doesn't it? Doesn't it? It's getting pretty confrontational, there huh? Especially when he gives the other guy the ""Da Da' to the hand, pal!"

I kept expecting the whole thing to blow up into violence. Glad they got their differences under control.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Kinky Confessions

You know, I feel like I'm a pretty kinky dude. But realistically, I try to pin myself down to particulars, and I'm not coming up with anything very outre. You know what I mean?

I think what it is is, sex itself to me just seems SO WEIRD and bizarre. You know what I mean? Just as a process. Sex is pretty freaky!

And I love it.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

You Should Read Their Fortune Cookies. Hilarious.

A Chinese restaurant I go to has a "complementary" egg roll on the menu. They charge you for it, but it really goes well with the meal.

If you complain about it, then their English is better than yours.

Man, Things And People Just Keep Getting Worse!

Labor leadership doesn't give a shit what businesses it puts out of business, or sends packing to parts foreign. All they care about is bragging to the constituency how much more blood they squeezed from the stone.

Business on the other hand, doesn't care about serving the customers or keeping employees happy - not really. Business just wants to make sure their quarterly earnings report looks inflated enough to keep the investors licking their chops!

Politicians don't care who they get into bed with or how badly the general public gets fleeced - as long as they can brag to their constituency how much sweet fat pork they brought home in the bacon barrel for the home team, and how they diverted all the nasty, contaminated, or radioactive stuff into other people's backyards.

People in general aren't interested in helping each other. They just want to feel like they "got over" on the other guy. They don't want fairness - they want special treatment. The dude who minds p's & q's and puts in the fair share, and takes out only what they "need" or "deserve" - conventional mores brand that dude a sap!

Scientists, don't get me started on those pricks. Fattening their coffers on research grants for things like skinless bananas, while AIDS and Cancer go uncured!

Man. Once I got rolling on the outrageously over-broad cynical generalizations, it was hard to stop! Look at how invalid half that stuff is. We all know honest, decent, true people in all those categories! People of high ideals, who put people first (ahead of the ideals, even). I'll try to do better, to balance the picture.

Lawyers are good folk. Decent, hard-working folk who strive to help the common citizen lost in a maze of intricacies they can't hope to navigate on their own. That's lawyers.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

When Jesus decided to love me, he wasn't wrong.

Man. When is that dude ever wrong?

Okay, so he did curse out a fig tree once. That was kind of a hothead move. You'd think he could have gotten some figs out of that thing, with a blessing instead! Miracle grow, so to speak. But even our sweet Prince of Peace needs to blow off steam sometimes! Probably felt good, to let off a little steam like that. You have to! Sometimes, you have to.

Man. I wish I had a fig tree.

Friday, March 25, 2011


I LOVE LIFE. I love life more than ANYONE. NOBODY loves life more than me!

You ever SEEN anybody loved life more than me? BULL SHIT! SHOW ME THE PERSON who loves life more than me!

I'll kill him.

Then we'll see who loves life more than me.

Nobody. That's who.

TCM Plans Elizabeth Taylor Film Marathon

Film actress Elizabeth Taylor has died, and TCM is planning an Elizabeth Taylor Film Marathon.

"It makes sense," I surmised. "She was in a lot of films. Elizabeth Taylor belonged to a select set of hollywood royalty, from way back in the glamor days of the silver screen's 'Silver Age' era I believe."

Taylor starred or appeared in easily more than forty films over a period spanning at least four decades I am sure. Her name is synonymous with a lot of things. But Taylor's personal life too, was noticeable - for other reasons. In an era of increasingly angsty zeitgeist and hand-wringing from Joe and Dotti America over the declining "sanctity of marriage," Taylor's example was often put forth as a sort of poster-girl situation for how Hollywood's example is or was getting it wrong, leading America astray. Such scrutiny must have been very unwelcome for Taylor, yet it's hard to deny that she was involved in many flashy, high-profile engagements, megawatt marriages, and splashy divorces - whether as a fiancee, a wife, or an ex-wife. To concerned, self-righteous Americans, the divorces in particular - at least four, by some counts - were most troubling of all.

Yet as the public controversy over such painfully private matters played out on the grand, shabby nationwide tabloid stage, it could not obscure the indelible mark Taylor was leaving on movie screens nationwide during her huge run. "Have you ever seen any of her early stuff?" I remarked. "She was beautiful. Truly gorgeous. It's not hard to understand the fascination she holds even today, in the eyes of many lesbians and gay men."

Still, one question remains: what is Elizabeth Taylor's link to Traditional Chinese Medicine? Why are TCM practitioners banding together in tribute to the passing of this iconic film legend? How is the film marathon to be organized, and where will the screenings take place? Details are sketchy. Messages left with several TCM practitioners were not immediately returned.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

"Hundos To Bums"

Once again it's time for me to bring it forward on the conscious tip.

It's a key feature of rap culture braggadocio to boast over one's heavy-spending lifestyle. Yet rarely if ever is this impulse put towards a positive direction, society-wise. When was the last time you saw a rap star spitting hot rhymes about how much they give to charity on a regular basis?

Yet if done right, I believe a few good examples in that charitable direction could open a veritable floodgate of ready cash for the needy, and others in need. The packed wallets of big-spending rap impresarios stand ready, awaiting the next big-spend status trend. Why not charity? We all know rappers are living large and spending hard. They're very up-front about that. What if such a powerful financial force could be harnessed and unleashed, to ease the suffering at large? Imagine how much good it could do, if the next hip trend became - to give? There could even be slogans to pump up the trend. I can't think of any, but hey it's my idea. I wrote the song! Others can come along after with slogans. "Live Large. Give Hard." Something like that.

Don't be scoffing, holmes. Why can't it happen? All that's needed is the good example, to turn a fluke genius idea into today's hot trend. Most of us want to do good. All it takes is a few to lead the way. And I stand ready to be first among those few.

Here, then, is my opening shot in the salvo. As usual - as almost always - I start from home, to keep where I live real, so my charity example is right down to street-level. But I expect that those who follow up in my footsteps, all up in my footsteps as it were, will put their own unique twist on it. Such as "I keep pimpin' them whores to give more to dot-orgs!"

That wouldn't be my twist. Whores, pimpin' - that's not true to my own experience, to my life. But let others whose twist it is put that twist to it!

Admittedly, even the below example is perhaps an exaggeration, but that only underscores the hyperbolic power of the street poet. I give you: "Hundos To Bums"

"Hundos to Bums"

Every bum who's the recipient of my largess, says
"what the fuck - is it for real?" I said YES
he said BULL SHIT
isn't it sad?
That's like a comment on the world
how many people are bad
for this bum to come, doubting my hundos
my hundos
my hundos flow
from the government fundo
the A.T.M.
straight into my hot hot hands
then I walk down the street
here I come! I'm the man
who gives hundos to bums
hundos to bums!
who gives hundos to bums?
I give hundos to bums!
left and right, hands out
high-five each one -
slap a hundo in each hand
I give hundos to bums!

my hundos are true
hey yo - I'm not a jew!
not like jews are known for counterfeits
it's more they're known for avarice
but jews can be so generous
and many are philanthropists!
yet still they get accused as if
it's all about the money, yo!
that's bullshit and you know it is
I'm giving out my funds as though
to cold-disprove this slight against
what some would say, my jewishness
it's true that I'm not jewish, but
the cold injustice hits me hard
somebody said I look jew-ish
and so I have to be on guard
to combat anti-semitists
and represent on jews behalf -

Break it down! Aw yeh that's right

I'm like a stone cold jew in a stereotype!!
trying to fight his way out!! hey now -
that isn't nice!! you know a stereotype is like WRONG,
and I'm RIGHT.

Ask the bums - 'cause they know!

hundos to bums
I give hundos to bums!
who gives hundos to bums?
I give hundos to bums!
left and right, hands out
high-five each one -
slap a hundo in each hand
I give hundos to bums!

That's the end of the song, so far. It would be good to get a guest verse in from a known emcee, just to help move along the example, to help people feel inspired to maybe "pay it forward" as it were. Like a hundo. Charity could be a whole new kind of bling, except it's a bling you wear on the inside. That's my message with this one.

So you know - that whole conscious detour in the second verse took me a bit by surprise myself! The issue of antisemitism is one I feel strongly about though, and stereotypes in particular are bull shit, so, I'm glad it kind of came up in the midst of my free-form writing binge. Right on. I love working different issues in, around a central theme!

Feeling Bad? Try Placebosil.

Last time I had a bad case of ennui, I visited my ontologist and he recommended over-the-counter Placebosil - now available in new non-prescription strength.

Now I know, you skeptics out there will say: "If it's non-prescription, how can it be effective?" But you might change your mind after a look at the studies. Placebosil's active ingredient has been proven at least as safe and effective as the other drug in more double-blind trials than any prescription medicine.

Placebosil. It just makes you feel better.

Side effects may include dry mouth.

good night

May sleep gather you in
with the softest embrace
and forgetfulness
wash all the cares from your face
as the dreams of the night
take you where you most wish
to be held by the light
and caressed with a kiss.
May the love of your life
beat more strong in your breast
than a pessimist army could hope to contest
and when night quits the field,
and the birds sound their call
may you wake to a dream,
and your life conquer all.

Monday, March 21, 2011

National Security: Vulnerable Again, Where You Least Expect It

Here in America, on the political scene - what's happening on the international stage has never been more important. And it's not going to start now!

No way. As always, it's what's happening stateside that matters: jobs. Illegals. The Drug War. And the ever-burning question: Our State and National Parks!

That's right. Our State and National Parks have never posed a bigger threat to national security. Because with so many of them being shut down for lack of operational funding in the budget, these vast tracts of scenic land stand all but open, empty. All but unguarded. How soon will it be before terrorists move in? These vacated Parks have all the makings of a potential paradise on earth for domestic terroristas and Al Quesda cells alike! To move in and set up shop. To train. To pitch their dirty barracks in abandoned nature centers and campgrounds. To take scenic hikes, paddling about our pristine lakes and rivers, holding campfire singalongs and enjoying whatever unholy hot-dog substitute their various religions allow! Almost certainly to be accompanied by s'mores. Even the worst excesses of the Islamist terrorist fringe can't possibly resist the deliciousness of that hot graham, melty-chocolate-marshmallow confection.

What are YOU doing to protect our State and National Parks from becoming hotbeds for terrorism? NOT ENOUGH! Get out there! Tell your governors, your congresspersons, your senators and senatresses! Tell them our State and National Parks must remain open to the public, so that our ever-vigilant eyes - working in concert with our dedicated and justly gun-toting Rangers - can work to safeguard these treasured areas from those who stand for some, most, or all of what we as a nation don't.

As Ben Franklin said: Liberty isn't enough. Safety isn't enough. Tell those who give up the one for the other: Deserve's got nothing to do with it.

God-damn it he said something like that. Now it falls to us. We better heed those grim words.

This is the only man who I'll cheerfully admit is better at songwriting than I am.

It's a damn lie. "Cheerfully" is a damn lie.

"Cheerfully" is a damn lie.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

George Orwell: Dystopian Prophet? Or Full of Crap?

Everybody used to go on and on about George Orwell's 1984 coming true. Well, I have two problems with that: number one, the title. 1984? It's a little late, huh? 'Nuff said on that score, I hope! A bit of a loss of credibility, there.

But secondly, look at the rest of this guy's oeuvre! I don't see anyone worrying about Animal Farm coming true. Pigs taking charge, running things? Wearing suits?

This guy was no prophet. I wouldn't worry about it.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Deconstructing Friday

all lyrics quoted are from the song "Friday" performed by Rebecca Black

I am so sick of people criticizing this song and Ms. Black for being "shallow" and "inane." It's clear enough to me that these critics are the ones who are too "shallow" - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are too "dense" - to appreciate the hidden significance and depths of meaning amply contained within the lyrics of this deceptively-simple, yet sophisticated gem of the songwriter's art!

I'd be happy to take you through it.

"Yeah, Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ark
Oo-ooh-ooh, hoo yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah"
A powerful affirmation of this young woman's positivity.
"Seven a.m., waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal"
Spurred by a sense of her obligations pressing in on her, Ms. Black hurries about her morning routine. Playfully, she shocks our sensibilities with a winking drug reference, only to flip the risque bowl metaphor - filling it instead with wholesome, nutritious grains.
"Seeing everything, the time is going
Ticking on and on, everybody’s rushing
Gotta get down to the bus stop
Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends
(My friends)"
Oppressed by an existential sense of the passage of time and the futility of such rush and bustle, Ms. Black must nonetheless submit to these pressures - she's 13, what choice does she have? The sudden appearance of her friends provides the potential of escape - or at least, of going where she must go, but by means of her own choosing.
"Kicking in the front seat
Sitting in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?"
The choice offered here goes much deeper than surface: "front seat," with its connotations of command and control - of sitting where one can see and perhaps, take charge of one's young life? Or choose the "back seat" - a foreshadowing of grappling with one's emerging sexuality, perhaps?
"It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday"
Another comment on the coercive nature of teenage existence. Everything done must be done, even fun. We get down on Friday, because we gotta get down on Friday.
"Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Getting down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Looking forward to the weekend"
The repetitiousness of the song becomes a sly comment on the tedium of life's repetitiousness.
"7:45, we’re driving on the highway
Cruising so fast, I want time to fly
Fun, fun, think about fun
You know what it is
I got this, you got this
My friend is by my right, ay
I got this, you got this
Now you know it"
This part doesn't mean a god-damn thing. A comment on life's ultimate meaninglessness.
"Kicking in the front seat
Sitting in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?"
Still wrestling with the dilemma - the choice between taking charge and yielding up to the easy release of sexuality. Yet note the way the question is phrased: Not "Which seat do I take?" It is "Which seat can I take." The speaker is unsure as to whether the choice is even hers. Ultimately, will she be forced to simply take the seat that circumstances dictate?
"It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Getting down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Looking forward to the weekend"
Fun, fun, fun, fun. Partying, partying (Yeah)! Once again, we have no choice: we gotta, we must look forward to the empty revelry of the weekend, to numb us from the empty drudgery of our workaday lives. Sorry - schooladay lives.
"Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today is Friday, Friday (Partying)
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today

Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes afterwards
I don’t want this weekend to end"
You know what's funny? Just a few weeks back it seems, I was talking to my buddy about how there are so many songs about Saturday, Saturday night, and hardly any about Friday. It was a puzzlement to us both, and so we started experimenting, singing Saturday songs with a Friday substitution: Def Leppard's "Saturday Night (High and Dry) for instance.

It didn't work at all.
"(Rap Interlude)"
I'm not sure the rap interlude really adds anything to the song. I think it was done just for the sake of form - another comment on life's strict insistence on forms, and on our willing conformity to them.
"R,B, Rebecca Black
So chilling in the front seat (In the front seat)
In the back seat (In the back seat)"
In a moment of perverse self-will, we reject the dichotomy of front seat vs. back seat - taking both. But this is a fantasy. How can one chill in two places at the same time?
"I’m driving, cruising (Yeah, yeah)
Fast lanes, switching lanes
With a car up on my side (Woo!)
(C’mon) Passing by is a school bus in front of me
Makes tick tock, tick tock, wanna scream"
The exhilaration of riding free is suddenly broken up by the intrusion of a school bus: an unwelcome reminder that freedom can only be fleeting; that the inhuman clock of society's demands is forever ticking away, measuring out the moments we've been left free, cutting them short on schedule.
"Check my time, it’s Friday, it’s a weekend
We gonna have fun, c’mon, c’mon, y’all"
The tyranny of society's clock is rejected, in a bold carpe diem gesture. I'm going to check my time: It's Friday.
"It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Getting down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend

Partying, partying (Yeah)
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Looking forward to the weekend

It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin’ down on Friday
Everybody’s looking forward to the weekend

Partying, partying (Yeah)
Partying, partying (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Looking forward to the weekend"
As many times as we say it, will it prove any more true? Will "our time" Friday ever be anything other than time stolen? A momentary, bittersweet-at-best escape from the forces that govern our real time on earth? The hard time we serve, always in service to lockstep schedules and demands that ultimately, we have bought into? We sell ourselves each day, at the sound of the starting gun: the shrill bleat of an alarm clock.

The song gives no answers to the questions it raises. We party because we must.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Doodeloo #76


Some Say Sanity

Some say "Insanity is the only sane response to an insane world."

I don't. I say "Sanity is the only sane response to an insane world."

Sanity cuts you straight right through that world: sane or insane.

Let the world be as it is.

You be what you are.

Ah, A Quote of No Day In Particular, Then

"Just because you're an alcoholic, doesn't excuse you for being Irish!"

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


Thank You, Wells Fargo.

I don't even know. Maybe everybody's doing this, but when I saw the option today at my Wells Fargo ATM withdrawal to donate up to $249.49 to the American Red Cross, in aid of their efforts to succor the inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago - now, in their hour of great need, with towns and cities shattered by earthquakes, shorelines battered by tidal waves, the populace at large menaced by the threatening specter of radiation run amok - I almost cried, and I felt such relief to see that there was something, some meaningful contribution that I could make (small though my means may be), and that they could make it something so easily done. Paralyzed and confused as I always am when disaster strikes, I wish someone would always make it so easy to help.

I've read the reports. I know that there is always a sickening glut of profiteers rushing in to suck their ill-gotten lucre from the life's blood of these massive relief efforts, like so many filthy ticks on a hog! I suck at paperwork (if possible I suck even more at the clicky equivalent), and at knowing who to trust. And when I saw that message on the screen, the relief I felt was based on an odd realization. I suddenly realized that as much as they've pissed me off over the years with their fees, and with how they've handled my account, and with that infuriating ATM quirk where it insists on giving me two receipts now instead of one, even though all I want to do is a deposit + withdrawal (today I got three receipts! But that's understandable), I realized that...I trust Wells Fargo. I trust them to put secure measures in place, and to track and audit the disposition of funds. And with that realization, suddenly it seemed like maybe all that crap that's been ticking me off for so long, well...maybe some of it is my fault. Maybe if I'd only come in to speak with my friendly Wells Fargo representative, he or she could have explained to me what easy thing I was doing wrong in each case, straightened it out, and made it square.

And with that realization, suddenly as far as I'm concerned, all's right between me and Wells Fargo. All petty grievances forgiven. And like I said at the top, maybe everyone is doing this! Maybe all banks are doing this. I hope they are.

Thank you, Wells Fargo, for helping me do what I can to help. I know it isn't much. Thank you for making it easy.

Looking For Something to Jazz Up Those Bland Store-Bought Tomatoes?

Hot hint: try ketchup.


Monday, March 14, 2011

Spruce Up Your Facebook Interactions, With Unexpectedly Piquant Contributions to Friends' Walls, Photos and Comments!

"Nice status update. Didn't you use this one before? I remember it! A classic."

"Hey, do you ever get sick of this whole Christian shtick sometimes? I mean, that's like your 'thing' isn't it."

"Could you please do a better job face-tagging your photos? I might want to 'friend' some of these people."

"I can't believe I just watched that whole video. Thanks for that new experience, I never thought before I might puke from boredom."

"This is GREAT!! Why are you telling us this?"

"Hey, how come your face looks so much better in this one?"

"I was just looking through your Facebook friends? What a bunch of losers."

"You know what? I was just thinking the exact same thing myself! And how you put it here, so clearly - it just made me realize how stupid the idea is."

"How do you do it? I mean, your happiness all the time - what is the key? What's your secret? Tell me, I'll pay you ten bucks."


"GREAT PICS! Who's the hotass bitch in the titty top?"

Sunday, March 13, 2011

A Prayer For Modern Minds. Or Maybe Just Mine.

There is not a Divine Will that forces me, either infallibly or unyieldingly, through my life.

There is not a Divine Plan that maps out my path.

But there is a Divine Grace that helps me on the way. The way that I pick through a wilderness that is more beautiful than any high, wide way could be.

I speak for myself and my own will and way, in this. Follow yours, your way, your will, if you say God has picked it for you. That's your path to choose. Speaking for myself, God never picked mine. And God bless you on your way! And God bless me on mine.

Because there is a Divine Mind, that loves me, and wants to see me succeed.

On what terms, God?

On what terms shall I succeed?


I will tell you the terms, people. Because:

if I'm wrong,

if there is no God ~

Then all of this power is mine. Is in me.

But I don't think so. Insert long, drawn-out, ominous supervillian chuckle. Oh,

but I don't think so.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Quote of the Day: Unrealistic

"I'm not being unrealistic! The future is full of all kinds of unrealistic shit. You just have to look ahead a little and position yourself for the grab, before it slides on by."

Wednesday, March 09, 2011





Look at yourself. Would you please? Inside and out!

Nobody knows you better than you do, in either of those areas.

Sure, from the outside - the world as a whole probably sees more of you than you do. But when it comes to any one individual in the world, nobody comes remotely close to how well you know your outside. You are up in your face, day in day out, scrutinizing flaws with a tooth-brush for God's sake. You critique the picture you present to the world to within an inch of its life, and not just on a beauty basis, either! You critique how you come across emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, even give yourself shit when you feel like you come across better to others than you hold yourself to be! You treat it like a lie. Like you'll be found out.

Do you think the people you see around you don't have one hundred times the awareness of their own flaws that you have, when you look at them? Do you think they aren't walking around the same way: hideous, in tiny, imperceptible ways? An impostor, in how they are able to come across vs. how they feel inside?

And what about your inside? Oh, from the inside, you can see things there no one ever will. You hope. Yes, I know you have thought horrible things, even wanted horrible things. Darling you will say you have done horrible things. I don't judge you. Some things, you had to do. Some, you absolutely did not have to do. Some of these things - people know about them, to your everlasting remorse and sunburned shame. Some, only you know. And you hate those worse.

Do you think others don't burn just as painfully, from shame that you can't see? Suppose they all are burning? What if they all are? Would you look at them differently - worse? Would you then look down at them, as harshly as you look down at yourself?

Because these are the same people who save your life, every day, just by being in it. Who come in when you last expect, and do some small thing that rescues a part of a day you had rued. Who you wish you could be like. Well, what if you are? What if they are like you?

Have mercy on them, if so. But darling, have mercy on yourself, first. When it comes to you, only you can see the worst. When it comes to what you see in others - you don't see the worst, but what you do see is a real thing, a real part of who they are. The shape they are able to throw, and the action they are able to carve into the world - that is a real thing.

As real as what I see in you. The good I see in you is every bit as real as all of the good you have ever seen in others.

Hey, tell you what. Someday, if you're really, really good...maybe I will tell you my worst.

Monday, March 07, 2011

All ants everywhere are after my cake.

The thing about ants is, ants can have their cake and eat it too.

"ye gods, girl"

I am thinking of you in ways
more suited to the classical studies group
of a federal penitentiary

all pent up,
some part of me caged like a tiger
and pacing,
and pacing,
and in-between sitting, and wasting

classical literature
a diversion at best from these bars
but better than this nothing
to live with, I suppose

those dudes
are in there, reading pieces,
discovering and deciphering allusions,
gods and myths and idols and
oh, those glorious sylphs and nymphs,
minor and major goddesses and other bitches
and it's kind of a revelation
how dirty all that legendary shit is!

one guy: "FUCK Pluto -
big bad god of the underworld, so he gets to be all
below the law - 'Rape of Persephone' my ass
meanwhile I'm in here
5 to 10 for the same damn thing,

another guy concurs

a third points out all those damn gods
were rapists. And especially right on up to Zeus. Mr. big
god of lightning, and supernatural nonconsensual bestiality
always turning into bulls, swans -
man, probably any time back in those days
when a girl got fucked by an animal,
people just said, "There goes Zeus again! - but..."
so they modified the story they told against her, "...she was asking for it."

To the side, one guy - "You think that really happened often enough
to explain all these stories? I mean,
it's generally instigated by the human. If you think back then,
animals really thought we were all that much more sexy,
I question that."

"What do you know about it, four-eyes?" Bristling from the bald guy
hurt glowers from several others, rained-upon looks. "What
do you know about it? What are you in for?"

Four-eyes, abashed, looks down

Etiquette for Discussion Groups. Point 1. Pt.2

Note: if you're a member of a discussion group, and some empty-head link-lobber is in bad need of the below tip, and you respond to a link-only post of theirs with a link-only post of your own that links them to the below tip, without so much as adding a thought of your own...under those "heightened circumstances," if you wanted to make the case that it's not hypocrisy but rather poetic irony, I'd be willing to back you up on that.

And feel free to do so! That's a service we offer.

Etiquette for Discussion Groups. Point 1. Have Something To Say.

Please don't post naked links, with nothing of your own to add.

This is a discussion group. If you have something to say about a phenomenon, anything under the sun! - if you have a single thought in your head about it, share! If you have a shred at all of your own perspective, with which to open a discussion - by all means tell us what you think! And if you then want to include a link as a reference, do. Links add value, but links are not in-and-of-themselves value. A link is great to illustrate or provide context for one's thoughts. It is no substitute for having a thought.

If you have no thoughts of your own on a topic, no viewpoint to share, if the topic leaves you with nothing at all to begin the discussion, no point, no observation, no objection, nothing at all to contribute except to slap down a link for the rest of us - as if in challenge! "What do you think of THIS! Start up my conversation for me. I'll chime in later, if you come up with anything interesting." Please.

Please, thank you very much but really there's no need. You didn't have to; in fact please DON'T.

You wanted to talk about this? Fine! Say something about it. Oh, you're simply curious as to what we think? That's flattering, but we're not curious to give you our thoughts on every random thing throughout the world that you yourself haven't any opinion on.

We can talk about infinite ranges of things. Why not? The world is open, our minds are open. But let's select something fruitful, something capable of at least putting a thought in one's own head. From among all those possible topics to introduce - why not choose something that puts at least one point, one view, one hard or soft or worried or laughing or stray thought, into your own head? Or more than one thought, of course! As many as you like, conflicting ones even!

But one at least. Give us that much, just to start things off and rolling.

A topic that can't do that much for you: give you one thought of your own worth sharing - that is certainly a bad bet for the rest of us. It is a bit of a strain on courtesy, for you to throw it down before us like a gauntlet, as if we don't all also have access to Google News. As if we need a homework assignment from you, an essay topic, or a discussion prompt.

A more generous and courteous discussion prompt would be: for you to have something to say. On a topic you put before us, ostensibly discussion-worthy.

Why start a conversation when you have nothing to add.

Sunday, March 06, 2011

Razor Ruddock: On Class.

Sunday God Blog Theology Postscript

I should note: I tend to trust God to make the judgment call. For my soul, or anyone else's! It's certainly not my call.

Any time anybody comes around ballyhooing that they're in-like-Flynn SAVED - the Catholic in me says "Hey amen to that, and may it be so! But you know, a little humility can't hurt you none."

Meanwhile, though, the part in me that gravitates Baptist is hollering "Alleluia!! TESTIFY!"

Anyway, I'm rooting for everybody who says they are. Anybody who says they are! I'd hardly be the one to say otherwise.

As far as my soul and God, we got an understanding.

A Sort of Restful, Eternal Parting Shot.

You know what? I just kind of had an epiphany, here. Well, okay, not "just." More like a couple months ago, but I just got around to finishing the post!

That epiphany? And this is a Sunday God Blog Theology post, so you know it's along that line. The epiphany?

My stalker's a Christian. She's got Good News.

I'm Christian too. You guys know that? Oh, man. It's sweet. As my buddy Paul used to say, it's "The deal." Paul was usually talking about something other than Christianity when he invoked that phrase, but still: it fits.

See, my stalker and I, she, look. Due to the fact that she never accepted that I need a friendship to be a consensual matter; due to the fact that I will never at this point after many things I haven't explicitly mentioned - I will never at this point ever believe she is harmless to me (she's quite formidable in fact) - due to the accumulation of aversion and caution I've amassed towards her, I won't ever want her in any part of my life. So if that's the case from where I stand, then...she and I are irreparably severed. Sundered from each other in this life. But that's cool!


That's cool, because why?

Because I am a Christian.

And because so is she!

And because I am a Christian, I can forgive her. Unconditionally! I did some time ago, actually. Let go whatever gripe I might've used to have. And I do admit - I used to have gripe! Mightily. But forgiveness is easy, so easy. It feels like it actually harms you, to carry ill will around with you on the inside, you know? But it feels like nothing but good, to let go of all that and unconditionally forgive!

It's not a risk, even to forgive someone you want nothing to do with, ever, forever. You don't owe that person a fat piece of your life or anything, just to prove you forgave! Unconditional forgiveness carries no conditions with it. Unconditional means there's nothing you have to prove.

Neither does forgiveness mean you need to make room in your life for a person with whom your interactions have been overwhelmingly and mutually poisonous. For goodness sake - I've fallen away from people I've loved, with whom I've had no grievance at all. Just from the pull of the currents of life! There is not a greater obligation upon us to give people who pursue and hurt us access. Sometimes forgiveness just means: you let go everything, and you let go blame for the bad as you do.

You will always have to direct and channel your life, your efforts, your attentions and intentions. You can't give and you don't owe the whole world a piece of you - there are many more billions of people in this world more than those who we can meaningfully touch. I try to put myself where I can do the most good, and keep myself away from what hurts my ability to do good.

So the unconditional forgiveness is one reason it's cool, but...Why Else is it cool?

Well, of course! It's cool because, in the end - because I am a Christian, and she is a Christian - in the end, no matter how sundered we are in this life, Christ has us both. So the theory goes, hers AND mine. So we're cool!

That's today's lesson. Practical concerns for personal safety are only for this life!

Jesus has got us both.

I know Jesus has me. I surrendered to that sweet fact shortly after being born, and Lord I've given in to it again and again, so many times since then. So many times. What can take me out of Christ's love? What can take me out of Christ's grace? What can sunder me from being one, from being part of the body of Christ on Earth?

Well, shoot. I don't even want to formulate the hypotheticals on that one. It sounds like science fiction to me. If I weren't aware that all things were "technically possible," I'd say it's impossible!

Let's just guardedly say that for anything to come in at this point and sunder me from living in the light of Christ, well I'd say: it's impractical. And I mean that in the technical sense, such as Einstein said that time travel was likely impractical (even though possible theoretically). I believe by "impractical", "unable to be put into practice," Einstein's take was that the amount of energy necessary to perform the feat exceeded by a large factor all of the available energy in the universe. And besides which (though here I elaborate), it would likely require novel materials not extant in the periodic table, to withstand those forces in a way that could ever meaningfully "make the trip." Anyway even in the original assertion, I'm kind of paraphrasing, here. I'm sure it cuts more beautifully, brutally to the core in the original German.

Point is, I'm pretty cocky about how little anybody including me can do anything to keep Christ from having already forgiven me, and having already saved my lame ass. I mean, they taught me all about that shit in Catholic School! I believed it the first time. And I believed it every single time. Albeit, possibly they did not deliberately teach it to me quite so bold? They might have tried to shimmy some odd qualifications onto it. I might have "read into it" a bit. Same basic difference in the final analysis!

Bottom line, hey. I was saved, and I have been saved, and I am saved. Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the light - and what a wide way and a deep truth and a bright light that is! She's saved, too?


Then she can leave me the hell alone. She can leave me the hell alone, in this life. And in heaven, after a couple fifty billion years' worth of nigh-unendurable bliss, well who knows, maybe I'll get curious and look her up? See if she's up there. See if all her big talk was enough to make the cut. Big talker that I myself am, I'd be surprised if it wasn't! After all, it's not one's talk or one's walk that makes a difference in these matters. One sacrifice mattered. In all of time. And all I've ever done is yield myself up to it. I believe I would call it a sacrament.

True, true, I've been and I still am a bit rambunctious and combative! Faith settles in so deep, but belief never rested easy in me. I like to poke and question, and clash and harass (myself, that is, mostly) and much good and no ill has it ever done me! Maybe I had to be Israel to achieve Islam (in Christ, of course). But what can I say? I've loved it! And I love it, and I'm bah-dah-bah-BAH BAH, lovin' it still.

Um. My apologies. I don't mean to talk in cant. Sometimes I get on a tear! "Israel" = "Fought With God." "Islam" = submission to God.

I have no regrets at this point. I don't have a problem with my guard, in this world. It's up! Oh, yes it is up. Not for nothing is my guard up. I've got work to do, for the love of it in this life! I'd rather not cut myself, or be cut short. But I have no regrets, about that or anything else. This world will kill 'em all. And God will sort us out.

So, yeah! That's good news in itself. All of that there constitutes my future plan! I go through life trusting in God and that my soul is resting in good hands, but knowing also that here on earth, my life is in my own hands. I go forth with my guard where it needs to be; delicate and fragile as my body is - desirous as I am of not letting slip this gift. As far as my stalker goes, my epiphany is, between her and me if each of us is true to what we say we believe, well then shit! We can let this life go.

Just between us, we can let this life go.

Am I right or am I wrong? Can there be a case left to press? A case, that compels either she or I to have business between us, that needs be attended to in this life? As opposed to between me and Jesus? Covered! As opposed to between me and the 6+ billion other people besides her who I also have not happened to ever meet, and have no driving specific need to, particularly? Is there unfinished business, now between us? Here? On Earth?

No, there really isn't. There can not possibly be. I'm already square with the Lord. And hell, that's all I or anyone else ever need. There's nothing else to square. far as I can tell, she can leave me the hell alone! Right? Right?

See ya in heaven, bitch!

Deux Fois, Si Vous Êtes Chanceux

Saturday, March 05, 2011

New for A Pocketful of Poesy! The "Any Good" Tag

In addition to being a poet of unusual repute, I am also a quite keenly appreciative poetry critic - with faculties honed up the wazoo! I can critique the crap out of most poems. SO! I have a confession to make. It's long been a bit of a source of personal and professional embarrassment (well, amateur embarrassment) to me, that on any given random perusal of A Pocketful Of Poesy, there are always a lot of goofy little one-offs and experiments, and out-and-out japes, such as I would not submit say to a literary journal. Such as I would not, say rather, be proud to submit to a literary journal.

Now I will be as plain as this. I am proud of the japes. I love the japes. I don't want to leave out the japes. The japes stand in testament of how great poetry can be - how far more versatile than any wan panel of juried experts might wish to allow. I don't want to leave out the experiments, either! Successful or failed. The whole point of a Poem-A-Day(-On-Average)-Blog is to show your work: dorky warts and all. To impress upon the public (or those of the public within whom the yen poetical blooms!) that even the greatest of all poets, capable of producing the very greatest of poems, with mind-crunching regularity - can yet also work a far greater range of effects from his or her palette than just the bringing forth of one of that rather narrow range of poems that seem destined for the pedestals of white-walled exhibition halls. Rather, a great poet brings forth on an amazing basis, from his or her metaphorical lush stables and fecund grounds, a far richer cornucopia of sweet crops and gamboling livestock than merely the hand-picked "fit for publication" prize-winning sows, which in the paper-press days were the only poems that would ever even be submitted. And which consequently, hogged all the blue ribbons!

Poetry is more than that. Poetry is for more than the pedestal.

Every poem I've put out there, I want to stand by it and say YES: poetry can be used for this, too. Poetry is for this. Poetry is for way more than just sensitive, prissy explications of personal feelings and horrific self-experiences - or the lifting up into literature of some serious, hefty, ponderous issue. Poetry has ways to do anything infinitely more or less than such things! And through whatever poetry can do - its whole range sings. Poetry can toss off a wire-fine, peripheral-eye smartass crackling observational lightning blot, just enough juice to jolt! - and leave its tiny, offscreen point blackened and smoked. Poetry can throw a puzzle up into the air and let it come down - catch it! - solved. Poetry can just be looking at a cloud. Fuck. You go ask Basho about that, if you think otherwise - he will probably bash you for that, yo. You could catch a bash, for that. From Basho.

If only all poets' names were as fun to say as Basho! I'm sure the form would be just as respected as today as it was back then.

Even the poems that I can admit (from a distance) failed, I want to stand back from them too and say: these belong here. My spectacular triumphs do not tell the whole story. I want to show also where I've tried. And maybe, arguably, yeah definitely: failed. Because this may only be the first draft! And that will be instructive to see, when I circle back next for another hot take to jolt this poem's embarrassing corpse into something far more glorious! Sometimes the only difference between a try and a triumph is a little "umph."

But the pedestal poems are important too. The ones that I stand by not only proud but smug, as if to say, "Hey. You know? Poems of this caliber? The more of these I churn out and pile up in public working from total obscurity...? It sure does kind of make the supposed poetic establishment look pretty suspect by comparison, huh? Huh? I mean, you can go on the internet and click on some amateur, and his shit's better than you. Swallow that pride, bud. Feels good. Oh yeah. Now go digest it. And whatever comes out the other end...? Turn that shit into a poem."

See, that's how a real poet operates. Viscerally. And yes, my tip-toppiest snootiest best can and should stand and serve in some way as a "rebuke" to Poetry itself! Poetry fucking deserves it. How did Poetry fall so far, for so long? I'll answer that question for you, folks: slowly.

So bottom line: I'm going to start going through my poems, probably concentrating first on the ones people have rated or commented on. And I will be looking hard at those, with a critical eye. The poems that can bloom under that harsh, withering scrutiny and stand up "pedestal-proud," I will tag with the label: "Any Good." It's going to take me a while to work through the ol' backlog, but once I've got a respectable number tagged, bagged and ID'd, I'll slap a sidebar button on for all the world to see: click here to winnow out all that glorious dross, and glory in only the pick of gleaming golden kernels.

I figure that in any given stretch of 365, there will probably be a good 20 to 50 to perhaps as many as 175 poems that will be good enough to put up as if to say: hey, world. Hey world of poetry. You see these...?

These is mine's.

"Nice People"

CHIEF - Nice People from Andrew Simkiss on Vimeo.

The video for "Nice People" by Chief. Of which I previously said: "The video is damn great. A low-key seethe of a nihilist caper flick." Directed by Andrew Simkiss.

Thank you for putting this back up, sir! Love this video. Couldn't find it anywhere for a while. I was looking every so often, and missing it much.

That's some cinematic.

Edit: Oh, okay. Well then.

Edit again (update 5/18/2011). Sad news, Chief to disband. The video above was not embed-enabled at vimeo, and has since been taken down. It is for the time being available at the director's website. I don't know why every where it pops up it gets taken down. It's a surpassingly fine piece of work.

Friday, March 04, 2011

Revised Quote of Jan. 1st, 2007


"The optimist tells it like it ought to be. The realist tells it like it is. The pessimist tells it like it will be."


"An optimist sees things as they should be. A realist sees things as they are. A pessimist sees things as they will be."

I like that a little better.

Kickass Sceenplay Pitch #17: JAIL MAN

A Fiction Friday Exclusive, right here on Consider Your Ass Kicked!

Rising like a dully-gleaming citadel from the heart of Prison City, Idaho, Prison City Prison has served and shocked the entire nation over these past two short decades of its history. What began as a bold experiment in civic planning, progressed as a thrilling criminological Cinderella success story, and became a shining example of the triumph of the new modern spirit of sociological courage, is now a model for forward-thinking correctional facility designers and administrators nation- and world-wide.

Prison City proper snugs and nustles up against these hard, sheer, towering walls from all sides. And Prison City Prison? Why, this crowning jewel of the nation's justice and correctional system sits, a somber palace of punishment and rehabilitation, set hard like a diamond into its impeccably-planned sleek and shining art deco setting. Prison City! A Utopiopolis, some have called it. Oh, happy city. Whose polite, law-abiding citizens thrive amid clean streets, plentiful parks and libraries, enjoying all the amenities and civilizing institutions of a major American city! A first-class Art Museum. A highly-regarded Symphony Orchestra! Not to forget downtown's state-of-the-art Big House Stadium - home of Prison City's beloved Triple-AAA baseball Prison City Cons! Nationally-regarded gourmet restaurants. Or, if you're feeling the need to step out, there's the Downandaround district's variegated semicircular strip of trendy discotheques, comedy clubs and other nightlife hotspots - such as the legendary dive cabaret/trattoria the Third Curtain, infamous nexus of Prison City's thriving, if somewhat snotty-and-insular, indie rock music scene.

Yet in the midst of all this peace and pride and bustling civic tranquility, in the very center of "Con Town" as some cheeky natives style their home 'burg - sits an unmissable monument to the seeming urban paradise's seemingly-jarring principle industry: the shocking edifice of Prison City Prison itself. The plaque at the foot MacNeck Isle's famous and towering Statue of Justice strikes a seemingly perverse note, almost as if in a satirical dig at its more storied counterpart at Ellis Island: Prison City calls out not for your tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free - but rather for your hard-bitten, hardened convicts, who may yearn to break free, but who harbor no illusions about breathing free any time soon. Prison City Prison has never suffered a single escape.

Prison City! This seeming paradox of modern metropolitan engineering. The City With The Lowest Crime Rate On Earth! - radiating out from, and ringed in around...the Most Enormous Prison On Earth.

But within Prison City Prison, at the center of the heart of the paradox within the heart of the greater paradox of Prison City itself, lies an even greater paradox. One few speak of...except in chilled whispers. Or with a shocked, disbelieving guffaw. A paradox that few can even conceive, can even believe could possibly be "for real." For Prison City Prison holds a secret within it! A ghost in the works if you will, that frustrates all of its perfect planners, even as it upholds the very values of law and justice that they strive to maintain! - by circumventing the flaws in the machine that they have built to enforce the rules of that game. For Prison City Prison's paradox is no mere abstact philosophical problem. This paradox is one man. A dark avenger, stalking at will through Prison City Prison's massive, labyrinthine campus of locked-down, interlocking buildings. An ever-vigilant two-fisted cheerful spirit of violence, who visits his own rough brand of justice in the guise of a one-man wave of mayhem - forever poised to break with a crash upon the criminals who inhabit his home! For he too is one of them! Once wrongly convicted, thence thrown into despair, shortly to be shocked wide awake by the unspoken, unspeakable flaws and unthinkable corruptions that have slept unmarked or crept discreetly into Prison City Prison's touted and trumpeted too-perfect "system," he now willingly embraces the full, unfair length of his sentence! He has taken on his unjust punishment as a mission: to redirect that whole stinging portion of unjust justice straight back onto the criminal element that feeds it in the first place! To fight crime from the inside.

Prison City Prison. One man has taken this stacked, sprawling warren of prison blocks that goes on and on for city blocks - and made it his own personal one-man protectorate. Feared by the predators and incarcerated elite. Hated and hunted by the wardens! To a select few guards and repentant inmates, whose eyes are clear enough to see what's going on - he is an implacable symbol of a hope too tenuous to state, too elusive to place, too pervasive to shake, and too enormous to mistake.

WHO is he? Who is this paragon? Who is this hero?

I'll tell you who he is.

He is JAIL MAN: The Grim, Incarcerated Guardian of Prison City.

"If you really want to hurt have to hit them where they live."

Thursday, March 03, 2011

Now How Is THAT Justifiable?

Okay, in the unisex bathroom - one locking door, one sink, one toilet, one urinal - of a fairly classy bar, how in the hell do I walk in there - into a single-user bathroom with a urinal and a commode - and somebody left the seat up on the commode?

In a one-person unisex bathroom with a urinal in it. Somebody left the seat up on the toilet.

That's the Patriarchy.

Now, Suppose Harry Callahan Had Been Brought Up Differently

"Now, I know what you're thinking. Did he fire four shots? Or only three? Actually it was three shots. So the question you've got to ask yourself is: is this gun half-empty? Or half-full?

The answer to that question says something about who you are as a person."

Self is perception

Reality is agreement.

YES Aldous Huxley! You SAID it, Aldous Huxley!

"Within the realms of science, art and philosophy the workings of what I may call this 'Will to Order' are mainly beneficent. True, the Will to Order has produced many premature syntheses based upon insufficient evidence, many absurd systems of metaphysics and theology, much pedantic mistaking of notions for realities, of symbols and abstractions for the data of immediate experience. But these errors, however regrettable, do not do much harm, at any rate directly — though it sometimes happens that a bad philosophical system may do harm indirectly, by being used as a justification for senseless and inhuman actions. It is in the social sphere, in the realm of politics and economics, that the Will to Order becomes really dangerous.

Here the theoretical reduction of unmanageable multiplicity to comprehensible unity becomes the practical reduction of human diversity to subhuman uniformity, of freedom to servitude. In politics the equivalent of a fully developed scientific theory or philosophical system is a totalitarian dictatorship. In economics, the equivalent of a beautifully composed work of art is the smoothly running factory in which the workers are perfectly adjusted to the machines. The Will to Order can make tyrants out of those who merely aspire to clear up a mess. The beauty of tidiness is used as a justification for despotism.

- Aldous Huxley

But then, especially after that big buildup in the Title of the post, I'm sure you knew who said that.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Pt.3

This post is a Pt.3. There was also a Pt.1 and a Pt.2

I just read through those parts one and two and had an awful feeling - like I was kicking and making fun of unfortunate people who, for whatever unfortunate circumstance, only have this weak little pastime between them to connect them, to go on, to attempt to hit some kind any kind of rapport! And here I come in all haughty and laughing, justifiably some might argue, at how pathetic they are. It just seemed kind of mean, for a minute or two.

Anyway, that's not really what I mean by it. It's just so irritating to me when these giggling, child-minded, so-called adults leer and wink making huge inflated deals out of distance intimacy. Out of what is, by any clear-eyed standard, nothing more than a little participatory impromptu mutual home-made pornography session. Giggle wow! Knock yourself out - there's nothing wrong with such things! I'm that sure many might class such activities among life's little innocent pleasures.

But the real thing is something else. It is something else entirely.

Sex between two people is - can be - the most huge and intimate and boisterous and celebratory and revelatory and sacramental and elevating and exhausting and carnal and divine and mind-expanding experience that it is possible for a human being on earth to have. When it all comes undone and done in one moment, and I could look into exactly one person's eyes - in a moment after my mind had been just wiped clean, in a moment when every tip of my being was alive with sense and reason - and see myself in her eyes, as - the look in her eyes changed. From something like a generalized, drifting abstract wow, to the returning conscious awareness of love. Reaffirmation. It was as if your soul's polarity can flip in an instant - and I was in those eyes. And she was in mine, I knew, smiling back at herself like a fool. And there is no other way in this life, to feel a truth so true!

To completely know in one moment, the force of how it feels to love just one person more than the entire world.

Have you had that? Can you have that? Would you want that?

The little things are worth so much, but the big things are worth so much more. It's just a shame to cheapen something that can be of such immeasurably great worth. Because make no mistake: and we all know, sex can be every bit as cheap and mean, every bit as little as a greasy glossy magazine crumpled up and shoved in a corner with your own stains in it. Ew, that's gross! But it can though...! - that's what I'm talking about! That is what's at risk!

We live as we wish. And I will not condemn or judge you - but as we live as we wish, we live at our own risk. And life means so much. That's all I'm saying. Life can mean so much - but there is nothing in life, but that you can cheapen it right down to dingiest copper coin.

I'm no prude. Just a steward. I am A Steward of Fuck. A Champion Of Sex, if you will. A defender and an apologist, on behalf of one of the greatest engines for energy and channels for communion that two people together can ever have.

Closeness, is what I am talking about. Not only union, but unity as well. To soulmate? Well, no. Something quite considerably closer to home than than that: to mate.

That two may become one. Intimacy? Oh yes, and then some.

There's nothing even the slightest bit intimate about this distance intimacy biz. If it's not sick, really - still, it is sure not very well. And if distance intimacy is the best you can do? Well, hell. That's a hard row for you. I hope for better for you, fast. I wish you well - my wish for you is that soon, circumstances will change for you (...would it be appropriate for me to wish, "for the two of you?"), and you will be able to make a better go of it. Meanwhile I guess, hang in there together, with whatever pretty-much-pathetic measures come to hand.

So yeah. I hope that clears it up a little, modifies, mollifies. Ameliorates. Apologies if I created a harsher impression at first! All big hard manifesto on the pure sex tip, like I was and am prone to put it. But what are you going to do? Put yourself in my shoes!

See? See?

You've got to admit. I've got a fucking point.

Thought of the Day: Your Direction

Life is not the "real world," life is the path you clear through it.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011

Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Pt.2

This post is a Pt.2. There was also a Pt.1

Here's where I really begin, in earnest: to speak on behalf of fuck. Yes: For Fuck's Sake.

I don't care whether it's between strangers or a married couple: "internet sex" is not sex. It's masturbation. Okay?

Two people typing? Or videoing? While...ya-knowing? That's sex? No. It most unequivocally doesn't even come close to being sex. No, not even with pictures involved. No, not really.

For god's sake. If a girl's picture gets loose out on the wilds of the internet, and some dude's all grabbing his dick over it - no. He has had NO KINDS of sex, with her. Not on that basis. Not even remotely.

And suppose further! Even if he knows who she IS - suppose he calls her number up! "Hey, how are ya?" - and talks to her so he can hear her voice, while he's...ya-knowing...he still has had NO KINDS of sex, with her!

He's masturbating.


Is masturbating sexy? Is masturbating titillating? I'm not advancing some anti-wank plank, here, mind you! Heck no. Who even CARES?( kind of the point!)? Who cares. I don't give a toss about masturbation. And neither should you. And neither should anyone. It's harmless. (As long as - well, they say there's an addiction risk, so mind that. And as long as you steer clear of that risk, it ought to be pretty damn boring and harmless). As far as I'm concerned, it's boring and harmless. Harmless and boring. So when people try to place this auto-hand-jobbery-with-or-without-telecommunicatory-or-implement-assistance up next to SEX?? Well yes, I do feel the need to introduce a corrective, into that bullshit. People need quit acting like this distance sex non-even-mutual jack-off session mess is somehow some sexy steamy HOT FUSSY DEAL. Okay?

Seriously. Fuck off with that. For fuck's sake.

You people who think distance masturbation deserves to be equated into anything like the same ballpark with sex? Deserves to be looked at as anything approaching to sex? You have clearly not ever had anything approaching good sex. Get out and do the fieldwork first, before you get all boasty about, "oh, I just had a hot, steamy 'distance sex' episode." That's a load of verbal masturbation, about literal masturbation that doesn't even approach close to the proper and true elation that one ought to at least experience. Once. Before comparing some pale and phantasmal bull shit to it.

I speak on behalf of sex. I speak for fuck's sake. I speak on behalf of something that is pret-ty dang awesome - and if you've experienced it, then holla AMEN!! (in the comments if you must!) And if you really think masturbation is tantamount, then holla SOMETHING ELSE, LOSER!

(um, also in the comments, I suppose)

Remote sex is not remotely sex. Even if the pictures are moving pictures, even if she's right on board and playing along, Talkin' D, even if she herself is jillin' - that doesn't make his jackin' or her jillin' a single quantum iota more towards intercourse. It's just a lot of jerking off. I don't get the "steamy" or "transgressive" aspect. Go titillate yourselves someplace else with that. Do what you like, but call it what it is. No shame in what it is, is there? For fuck's sake, can there possibly be any shame in just admitting that a given thing happens to be incomparably WAY LESS GREAT than sex?

Anyway. Those are pretty much just random thoughts on the topic. My stalker was OBSESSED with accusing me of all sorts of internet seductions and perversions. Also of being ugly, having a tiny dick, being homosexual, being a serial womanizer, being fat, being a sociopath - she was big accuser! I never understood why she thought anybody would be sensitive to grossly inapplicable accusations. I think she was just fishing for me to give myself compliments. I'm not interested in that game!

But I was always stymied and fascinated by what the fuck her huge forbidden attraction to distance sex was. Distance sex is a ridiculous and sad contradiction in terms.

That doesn't mean I think distance sex a bad thing in and of itself. It only comes off poor by comparison to sex. And it is very bad, very poor, by comparison. For some couples, it's a way to make the best of what you've got! But so is Nutrasweet, when that's all there is available - and that shit's not sugar.

I have no problem with any of the harmless things that people can consensually share with each other, together or afar. Just don't be all boss and frothy acting like a fool like it's some hot sex act you just had. "Yo - she or he just totally just FUCKED me. Rocked my world." REALLY? Wow. And with your own hand, too! Attaboy/-girl, you sex machine you.

Please. Don't come off all sassy like it's some big whoop. Because I for one will laugh my ass off in your FACE, and frankly THAT will be closer to sex that what you just had. Don't tell me about John Kennedy. I knew John Kennedy. What you just had is not John Kennedy.

Phone "sex," internet "sex," chat "sex," whatever you care to call it. To paraphrase Abe Lincoln - who you KNOW don't lie - distance sex is the shadow of a wing of a chicken that starved to death, compared to the big honking glorious goose of actual sexual intercourse. Whatever other light, silly, crazy fun we peoples of today are having, god bless us! Whatever floats our mutual and respective boats, let us charts our own course, to be sure! All hands on deck and batten down the ever-lovin' hatches! But whatever other extra activities you may place on the curriculum, just don't go impugning True Acts of Fuck by comparing your little doodling and diddling to that. Because whatever else you got, it's not a patch on that.

Except, from what I hear - the intravenous injection of heroin. Okay. I can't say, I wouldn't know on that one. But supposedly! Still: regardless, even if that were such a legendarily better hit, for all the various aspects entailed it's still nothing close to being sex. Let's not cloud the issue, please.

This has been a statement on behalf of fuck itself. Now for fuck's sake, please go about your bizzow.

Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Pt. 1

Yes, I speak for fuck's sake. I speak on behalf of fuck itself. As such, in that capacity, I have some preliminary remarks.

Cheating is whatever two people say it is. OK? Cheating can be breaking whatever line the two people involved have mutually agreed to reserve, each unto the other, exclusively. Get it straight between you and who's involved. Say what's off-limits, and then when either of you breaks that limit (whatever it is!): THAT is cheating. Doing with another what you've agreed to forsake with all others, is cheating.

The nature of a relationship is not based on ground rules that apply cosmically to all people in every relationship. It's based on the nature of ONE relationship: the one you're in, the one the other person is in - the one where you BOTH have the same understanding of what the relationship IS - or else, guess what: if you don't have the same understanding? Then you're not in the same relationship. Got me? Oh, yes you do. Don't whine about what everyone should psychically "know," welling up from the common decency fountain of humanity, or from Jung's collective unconscious or whatever bullshit theory you subscribe to that explains why everyone should already agree with you, without it ever being discussed. Instead, try this method: guaranteed results!

Be a damn adult.

Do the work. It is easy work. Frankly, it ought to be a joy, you big baby. Have a Hot Sex Conversation! Have a fucking five minute talk, lay out what you both consider to be decent and true, and then you can both be Conclusively. Confidently. In. The Same. Rela. Tion. Ship. 'K?"

Arguments against?

I mean, if all good people should be "agreed already" anyway, then it ought to be a pretty damn easy talk for you. Should it not? Why be a chickenshit about it? It's as easy as this!


"Just for starters, hon, I myself tend to set the standard here: No Lips, No Tits, No Dicks, No Clits, No Pussies No Asses, No Practice Dips and No Free Passes. Matching any of those aforenamed fleshy areas fleshily to any other of those selfsame areas on another other than your significant one - well, that constitutes 'Cheating.'"

Sound about right? Anything in there you'd say we need to 'rule out' as allowable? I'm open to re-definition.

And another question: is cheating a "big deal?" Like, is it such a "big deal," that we need to make so big a deal about it, as to make sure you both agree what it is, first? Is it that BIG a DEAL? Well, that's something else you should find out. Maybe the other person agrees with you on whether or not it's a "big deal." And what if they don't?

That's all just for openers! That's my foundational. Because if we have the talk, and she elaborates saying she's got some more things she'd like us both to consider as cheating, that's open for discussion! If she says, "well...I don't want you Jaying-O over the phone, with anyone else either," - I assure you. I will be more than happy, to carry that motion as well. As long as she doesn't mind the condescending pat on the head that accompanies said "second the motion, there, there!" while I do so. Followed by the steely glance as I assert: "...But that's a MUTUAL PROHIBITION."

Pretty clear, huh? Start with a clear standard, but infinitely negotiable from there - upwards or downwards, between whatever and wherever the two people agree. Right?

And THEN we're in a relationship!

It's-so-easy-to-fall in la-HUV! It's so easy to fall in love! It's so easy - dog-gone easy, dog-gone easy, FUCKIN' EASY! dog-gone easy, dog-gone easy, dog-gone easy...

But let's take an extreme case! Let's say it's understood in a given relationship that Jaying-O is wrong under all circumstances (which...for fuck's sake???). Fine! That still doesn't mean it's sex.

Remember. I'm speaking here on behalf of fuck, here. For fuck's sake.

Let's say two people agree that masturbation over whatever is wrong - "cheating." Well, that's binding, if they both agree to it! But that still doesn't mean that masturbation is sex. No way does agreeing something is "cheating" make it sex. It just adds an additional extra offense item to the don't-go-there-list. Making some random thing an agreed-upon "off limits" practice doesn't redefine it into sexual intercourse.

This concludes my introductory remarks. But wait 'til you see the Pt.2! That's where I uncork like a fifty-foot seahorse onto peoples' pathetic little fishbowl acquarium.

To Clarify The Previous Hiatus Announcement's Shakespeare Paraphrase quiz post will be the last Shakespeare Paraphrase quiz post for March.

Not the last Consider Your Ass Kicked! post.

So, sorry about that for the HEART ATTACK, if anybody, you know, took that interpretation!

Guess The Shakespeare Quote, As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob #27 ~AND~ Hiatus Announcement!

ANNOUNCEMENT: Today's post will be the last post for March. My Buddy Rob's Shakespeare will be on hiatus for the remainder of March, and will return the very first Wednesday in April. Today's topic alludes to reasons why.

SCORING RULES (CHECK BEFORE YOU ANSWER! - no credit for partials!)

Today's Guess The Shakespeare Quote As Reinterpreted By My Buddy Rob:

"Hoo, this working-for-a-living bullshit is some fucking scratchy and uncomfortable shit, man!"

Previous questions remaining open (THERE FOR THE TAKING!):

Scoring remains open until the first correct answer is posted! Full score for 1st correct answer, half score for all subsequent correct answers until close of scoring.

Potential "Fiction Friday" Bonanza Announcement

I just realized. I just suddenly realized.

I have a potentially endless supply of 'Fiction Friday' material! Look for it maybe not now, maybe not this particular Fiction Friday, but mark my words: SOON...

Fiction Friday: Impromptu Revenge Fantasies

Installment #1. Coming Pretty Soon to a blog near...this one.

Tuesday, March 01, 2011

Science Solves Another One: YES! BEES CAN FLY

I just looked this up. I hate to disappoint some of you quoters of hackneyed aphorisms and urban tales, who may not know this! And for those who already knew, to whom this old news is no news, still you can't blame me for putting it out there as good news - because I'm sorry to be late with the big front-page bulletin, but there are still people out there who seem to think bees can't fly! Who throw that in your face, as an affront, like you're some flat-earth chin-dribbler who can't tell which end of science is the business end. To these people, their ridiculous claim is that it is scientifically or mathematically impossible for bees to fly.


The bee flight problem, first pointed out in 1934 by French entomologist August Magnan, got finally and definitively solved in 2005. That's right.

What happened was, a couple dudes named Dickinson and Altshuler apparently figured it out with high-speed photography and a giant robotic bee-wing. They wrote it up in the November 28 issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. I haven't verified the nitty-gritty details myself, via my own reproducible experiments (except for a few dangerous and preliminary trials in the field, which tended to support the conclusions of the research), but it does seem to have held up. If you ask me, we can all be pretty safe just waiting for the movie with Russell Crowe as Dickinson. I can't wait for the inevitably thrilling scene where the robotic bee-wing breaks loose, and Dickinson has to pull out some kind of hero move!

There's your update, science fans. Bees CAN fly. And to all you nay-sayers, I say: I knew it.

I always knew it.