Thursday, December 31, 2009

Friday, December 25, 2009

time travel hypothetical

It's the same old time travel hypothetical... You hop in your time machine and go back to 1930 Germany and meet a young, mustachioed man in a beer garden.  You know for a fact this young Adolf Hitler will soon be responsible for the deaths of millions of people.
What can you do to alter the time line and save the lives of millions of people?

1.  Kill him.
2.  Get someone else to kill him to prevent blood on your hands.
3.  Talk to him and try to show him the error of his future ways.
4.  Do nothing and hope for the best.
5.  Give him a blow job.

Unless you're a psychopath, the very idea of killing another human being, especially if he didn't do anything to deserve it yet, is against our laws of man and God.

Getting someone else to do it is easier but you're still responsible for setting up the hit.  Some people might try to talk to the man.  See where his head is at and try to get him to see your point of view.  Unfortunately, step three would never occur to most people.  Killing someone seems to carry more intellectual weight than conversing with him.

If you believe in the concept of doing nothing to disturb the fabric of the space-time continuum for fear that you can irreparably alter the future to a point where everything can go from bad to the very worst that can happen, you have no business having anything to do with a time machine.

Clearly, the best chance of saving millions of future lives might be giving this dictator-to-be a blow job.  Why not?  Maybe all the man needs is a little love and that just might be enough to alter the future for the better.  Sometimes it's the little things that make the biggest difference.

The question is, if you knew, absolutely, that giving AH a BJ would change his future ways, would you be more willing to kill Hitler and take the chance that you will end up in that very bad place where you suffer and cry and get waterboarded day and night and torn apart by demons over and over and over again for eternity or are you willing to set aside your pride and take out 15 minutes of your life and give the guy a blow job?

Perhaps if women made these decisions we would have more love in the world instead of killing.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

junkie's christmas

William Burroughs.  You da man.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Saturday, December 19, 2009

cooking budd-er video with Derek and McKenna

"Psychedelics are not illegal because a loving government is concerned that you may jump out of a first story window. Psychedelics are illegal because they dissolve phonic structures and culturally laid-down novels of behavior and information processing. They open you up to the possibility that everything you know is wrong." -Terence McKenna

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

a restored disaster

I've been taking my computer for granted lately.  Doing things like leaving it run for weeks at a time without a reboot, keeping 20-plus windows open at all times, never cleaning the internet junk, ignoring repairs on my registry, and perpetually waiting to back up my files when I get around to it.

That last one was problematic when my comp decided to turn itself off and refused to reboot.  No problem.  I'll just start in safe mode and take it back in time.  No dice on that.  This thing just kept trying to fire up, then quit, then fire up, and quit for a couple hours before I began to realize I might have a problem here.  I checked out all hardware and everything was working great so I had no choice but to restore the damn thing and bring it back to out-of-the-box standards.  I managed to save most of my programs but the thousands of pictures, videos, and movies were gone and replaced with a few of those idiotic sample pics they like to give you so you have an idea what a picture looks like.  Just like a basic full format, my data was irretrievably lost in the mists of time.

As I searched the internet for a way to get my stuff back, I found a program called File Restorer and spend a few minutes downloading it and somewhere between 4 hours and eternity trying to make the damn thing work.  I mean, it takes a long time to go through your whole hard drive looking for deleted files that you hope to bring back to life.  Every time I got close to identifying all that lost data the wind would blow and flick my electricity off and on, and all that effort and waiting was lost.  I must have ran this stupid program four times since last night, and finally when it actually locates all that data and promises me those thousands of pictures will be restored, it loses them again.  All my files got deleted, found, deleted, found, deleted, found, and deleted before I gave up on this program doing anything other than pissing me off!  That's when I remembered I had an external hard drive that's been silently backing up my files for several years.  I never paid much attention to it, since you can't really play with it.  It's not like it has any special features. It just sits there, blending into the woodwork, backing up my files without so much as a pop-up to remind me.

After a little digging I managed to locate all of my deleted pics and a ton of full length movies long gone from my temp files but snagged by this HD.

BTW, the computer now runs like a raped ape.

I guess my point in all this is if you wait til disaster strikes before you do something, you're going to take some nasty hits.  Like so many things in life, just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there for you.  Get your insurance squared away, stock up on food and ammo, and get an external hard drive.

You'll thank me later if ya do.     

Monday, December 07, 2009

A Christmas Show

A friend asked me to go with her to this new-agey place these two guys have.  She told me about the well kept, sculptured gardens and the new age work shops and the poetry readings and it seemed like an interesting place to check out.  She said there was a show these guys put on and it's really amazing.  She refused to tell me any more.  Said it would spoil it for me and I have to see this to believe it.  A show... Hmmmm...   Maybe they would read some poetry or do a scene from A Christmas Carol.  I was wondering what kind of show they could possibly do that I'd have to see to believe.

As we got closer to the place she told me a little more about these guys.  She said they're very talented, real artists, have a vast library, they lived in this place for decades, and they're gay.  Ok, I kinda figured the gay part, but the show kept my mind busy.  Perhaps they'll do something from Madam Butterfly or play all the parts in a Nativity scene.

She then told me they were very short, not sausage
fingered dwarfs with big heads.  Not like Billy Barty.  Their heads were pretty much proportional to their bodies.  Midgets, I told her.  No, not midgets or dwarfs, she said.  There's another name for them...  Little people, I said.  That's what they like to call themselves.  Little people.  But I had more important things on my mind, other than what category of little people these guys were.  Little people was a broad enough term to include anyone four foot and under.  I now had visions of what kind of show a pair of gay dwarfs could possibly perform.  My head was reeling.

When we got there we checked out the frozen, snow covered gardens, and the sitting areas all over, and the out buildings where workshops were conducted.  You could see how beautiful this place must be in the warmer months.  But this was no time for sight seeing.  We had a show to go to and I could barely control my unbridled enthusiasm.

Just inside the big house was a sign that listed the dates and times of various events.  Wow!  This place shows movies, too!  Koyaanisqatsi played just last week.  I was intrigued.  They had crystals, gong wind chimes, antique furniture, hand carved wooden bowls, paintings, and tons of stuff made by the crafty, indigenous people of the surrounding area.  All high quality and extremely tasteful.  Damn, I can't wait to see this show I've been hearing so much about.  People began to trickle in and help themselves to the free coffee and chatted amongst the new age books, sculpture, burning candles, window vistas, vaulted ceilings, expensive bric-a-brac, and paintings that filled the entire house.

We were the last to be seated for the show and it looked like the overture had begun.  Everyone was sitting on comfy sofas accented with sheepskin with a rather large, extremely ornate Christmas tree as the centerpiece.  This sucker was tall... I estimate over twenty feet and it almost touched the vaulted ceiling above it.  There was so much glass and crystal on this tree you could hardly see a branch and there must have been 20,000 lights, not including the gels on the level above us.  As the Christmas music played and the lights flashed I looked at the floor in front of the tree and wondered if there will be enough room for the show.  I was looking around for the little people.  Maybe they'll dress up like elves with little swords and little shields and have a sword fight in front of the tree.  The overture music stopped and the tree lights died down... This is it, I thought to myself.  Where are those little guys?  A thought of them coming out dressed as wrestlers body slamming each other fleeted through my head.  I could only wish!

Then another Christmas song began to play and the tree lights went on and pulsated to the music and I realized that THIS was the show!  Ok, so this is only the beginning.  It can only get better, right?  I looked up and saw angels with trumpets hanging from strings and anticipated something mechanical will make them fly around the tree toward the end of the performance, or maybe they'll all lift their robes, like a miniature angelic chorus line doing a can-can as a grand finale.  The synchrony of the tree lights, gels, and music was getting better but I really wanted to see the gay midgets get it on under the Christmas tree but that scenario became less and less of a reality as the minutes dragged on.  I shifted my eyes to see the people who came to see the show and noticed Michelangelo's David and the eyes of 20 people fixated on this sound and light show, and the hope of seeing a pair of Billy Barty look-a-likes doing a scene from Oh! Calcutta! faded.  I know it was a Christmas show and expecting these two guys to come out with Snow White stretched the bounds of reality just a hair but the least they could do was something dramatic like a two man, shortened version of 12 Angry Men.

When it was over, she turned to me and said very quietly, "What do ya think?"  I said in the quietest voice I could muster, since everyone was still sitting down and the place was stone quiet, "Was that it?" and she burst out laughing.  I waited til we got out of the house before I described my expectations about the midgets with little swords dressed as elves and the angels flying around the tree lifting their skirts and I thought the two of us would have coronaries laughing about it.

It really wasn't a let down. It was an interesting evening and gave me some good ideas, but something else kept nagging my brain later that night...

Is it me or do I expect too much?


Saturday, December 05, 2009

Thursday, December 03, 2009

inch by inch is a cinch

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble."

-Helen Keller

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

happy thanksgiving

Norman Rockwell's first draft of his Thanksgiving "Holiday" proved too much for his New England ilk.
One look at those smiling, happy faces and you can see the carnal knowledge coursing through their Yankee nervous systems.
I always knew Norman Rockwell was a perv. Ever since he seduced my cousin to pose nude in front of my whole family just to satisfy his carnal urges, I realized this old fart was in it only for the T and A.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

vaccine theory

I talk to a lot of people every day about all kinds of things. Most people I talk to have no intention of getting the H1N1 shot. A very small percentage of these people don't want it because of the toxic waste that goes into this cocktail. Others say they don't need it or want it without any explanation as to why, as if a part of their brain is telling them to stay away from it... the same instinct that kept our prehistoric ancestors from eating poisonous plants and polar bear liver.
What frightens me is the number of people that tell me they plan to get the shot because they don't want to get the flu. No explanation. No thought process involved outside of having kids who pick up everything, and they could get it and bring it home to kill the entire family.

Interestingly, I don't know one, single health care professional who has the slightest intention of getting the shot and certainly won't let any of their kids get it. And these are people who come in contact with sick people every day. Why is that? I mean, the people who are closest to this vaccine and "cure" are the ones definitely NOT on the fence about this. Common sense tells these people that injecting poison in your body won't produce any positive results. It makes more sense to go to the barber for a series of blood letting to eliminate the bad blood from your system. The painful truth is toxic chemicals, like mercury, will not strengthen your immune system, and it's your immune system that keeps you healthy from dis-ease. It's as if common sense has been bred out of us, or at least, some of us.

Well, I have a theory. I think pharmaceutical companies are a natural part of our evolution to thin the stupid, weak, and common sense-free assholes from the human gene pool.

Think of it as hunting season in Pennsylvania. If hunters didn't go into the woods to kill the deer that were too stupid to keep from getting killed, they'd over populate to the point where you'd kill them on the highway with your cars.

Nature is simply culling the stupidity from the human herd antigen and big pharma is the antibody du jour.

My feeling is, if you're still on the fence about the H1N1 vaccine or if you still want the shot after all the negative information about this toxic injection, then do everyone a favor and go stand in line and get the damn shot.

Trust me, we won't miss you.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

CFR recording how they are trying to get the public to take the h1n1 vaccine

What you need to ask yourself is why the council of foreign relations is so interested in wanting people to take the vaccine in the first place.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009


"I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want."
-Paul (A.D. 1st cent.)

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Friday, October 23, 2009

Thursday, October 22, 2009

let's go shopping

If anyone believes the web bot project prediction that October 25th will be the beginning of the end of the American economic system, you have only two days left to buy stuff before your money becomes worthless.
Damn! Only two days to spend every dime in my bank accounts.

I've been thinking about what to buy that would make the best investment in a world where money is worthless. Mutual funds, IRA's, and T-bills don't seem like a very smart investment, no matter how much The Fed claims the recession is over.
It's got to be something that has enough intrinsic value that would allow it to become currency itself. It's got to be portable, fairly scarce, and something everyone either wants or knows others who want it. I came up with a list of things that may increase in intrinsic value and could be used as barter if our present currency becomes worthless.

1. Tobacco. Whether you smoke or not, tobacco is going to be the hottest commodity in the post-economic apocalypse. Every backpack, duffel, and cargo pocket can carry an amount of tobacco suitable enough to trade for a case of beans, gallon of gas, or to bribe an official.

2. Whiskey. Aside from being the hit of any party, whiskey is good as a coolant, antiseptic, and pain reliever. It also has an indefinite shelf life, which makes it not only an excellent survival tool but it's true worth as a bartering medium puts this item at the top of the list. Other items worth hording might be vodka, gin, and my favorite, rum.

3. Drugs. There are three basic drug categories. Prescription, over-the-counter, and street.

3(a) Prescription drugs include antibiotics, pain pills, tranquilizers, antidepressants, downers, etc. In the post-economic apocalypse, prescription drugs will have very little value due to the huge stockpile big pharma has been producing for decades and will most likely be passed out like beads at a Marti Gras. Keep some quantities of Cipro and class A drugs for yourself but don't count on any of this stuff maintaining any value.

3(b) Over-the counter drugs include aspirin, nsaids, vitamins, antacids, antihistamines, analgesics, and tons of other stuff not worth bothering with. Long before the dust settles, the over-the-counter stuff will be pushed over to get to the real goodies in the back of the drug store. Keep a healthy supply of potassium iodide for yourself and loved ones in case there's a nuclear exchange.

3(c) Street drugs include all those natural, time-tested remedies that are deemed "illicit" by the powers that be for their ability to get you high without making mega profits for big pharma. Cocaine, amphetamines, hash, pot, grass, weed, marijuana, heroin, opium, and any other substance that is tax free, gets you high, and makes profits for anyone other than big pharma could be considered street drugs and are worth their weight in gold as a bartering instrument. In the post-economic apocalypse, it's the street drugs that will be sought after more than any other pharmaceutical. It's scarcity will only increase its value and anyone who really wants this stuff will gladly pay whatever price you dictate.

4. Guns and ammo. Not really a barter instrument but guns can get you more than all other forms of barter combined, provided the person you're trading with isn't armed as well. But if you want to unload that .357 for a bag of street drugs, be sure you don't include the ammo. Besides, in the post-economic apocalypse, those high powered handguns without ammo will become as worthless as Hummers without gas. Better get a .22. The ammo is cheap and plentiful.

5. Food. By far the purest form of barter is sustenance. A can of pork and beans could not only get you some kick ass drugs but maybe a few drinks. When money is worthless you could burn hundred dollar bills just to heat up your creamed corn. Look for foods with a long shelf life and high nutritional value like sardines or kippered herring and stock up on chocolate bars and dried fruit, in case you want to barter for the charms of some female companionship.

Just as you would keep your valuables in a safe or a bank, you might consider a hide out as one of the last big-ticket items you buy before your cash becomes completely worthless. If you can afford one of those self-contained motor homes, now is the time to do it. If not, find an old bus and convert it to a home on wheels with storage space for all the items you feel are necessary to maintain your well being, and park it off the beaten path. Camouflage netting is crucial. You don't want your hideaway to look like a big yellow target. While your out buying stuff, get a generator, water purification system, propane or kerosene heaters, and lots of containers to store water and food. Don't forget your laptop with satellite uplink and a good shortwave radio.

And remember, It's better to have drugs and no money than money and no drugs.


"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, til it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."
-Harriet Beecher Stowe

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

death of common sense

An Obituary printed in the London Times - Interesting and sadly rather true, February 2009

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

Knowing when to come in out of the rain;

Why the early bird gets the worm;

Life isn't always fair; and

Maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies: Don't spend more than you can earn, and reliable strategies: adults, not children, are in charge.

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason. He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;

- I Know My Rights

- I Want It Now

- Someone Else Is To Blame

- I'm A Victim

Sunday, October 18, 2009

web bot october 25, 2009

Since the late 90's the Web Bot Project has been combing the internet looking for advance information and trends in order to make a killing on the stock and commodity markets. It seems the web bot project grabs hold of words and phrases throughout the internet, like taking a peek into someone's subconscious mind. Only, in this case, it's the subconscious of the internet. This program then analyzes these words, phrases, and surrounding text, and comes up with Nostradamus-like predictions, based on subconscious internet chatter. The predictions are sometimes vague but extremely accurate. For example, a few years ago, web bot said there would be a world changing event within 90 days. That prediction was made on June, 2001. Other predictions include the tsunami in Sri Lanka, the Katrina devastation, and the monetary shake up of October 2008. The latest prediction says October 25, 2009 will be the beginning of the end of the world economic system and the total collapse of the U.S. dollar. Since this last bit of information was leaked, they decided to tighten up security and prevent any web bot information going public.

I have mixed feelings about this latest web bot prediction. Now, I don't believe everything I hear and I take these predictions with a grain of salt, but the track record of this program makes me think about playing the odds. When Nostradamus looked into his pail of water and wrote down his prophecies, they could have pertained to anything and even after studying these quatrains for hundreds of years, we still can't predict anything until after it happens. A warning after the fact is useless. But web bot is different.

Gleaning information from the vast amount of internet chatter and forming accurate predictions tells me that it's us, the human collective, that makes things happen. All web bot does is interpret and translate the noise into information. What seems like a subconscious collective thought from the internet is actually the conscious chatter of the human internet users who are putting in their 2 cent opinions in blogs, websites, and every other internet forum designed for voicing opinions. If web bot's predictions are accurate, and I believe they are, then it stands to reason that it's our collective thoughts, hopes, dreams, and fears that form the universe we live in.

Who or what guides the emotional state of the collective? Or, is the total collapse of the worlds economic system a necessary purification stage for the 2012 transformation?

I don't know the answers but I'm sure by October 25 we'll be seriously considering another way of life other than over-consumerism and constantly buying crap we don't need.

Perhaps the new mantra might be:
Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Friday, October 09, 2009

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

I lost my leather jacket

I lost my leather jacket. I completely tore the house appart and it's no where to be found. I searched from basement to attic and every closet in between. I looked under beds and pantries and covered the garage from top to bottom. There isn't one, single stone left unturned. My jacket is officially lost.

Well, life goes on, so I put the leather jacket on the back burner and went off on other tangents, like making a video about my PVC CB modification. As I was downloading movie clips, I came across a clip I wasn't familiar with.

I made a post back in July about needing a new group of friends. In that post I mentioned a couple people who stayed the night at my place but refused to get up when it was time for me to leave for work. These are the people I had to wake up with a shotgun under the bedroom window, only to learn ten hours later they were awake but didn't feel like getting up. I found out later they got on my computer, ate my food, overfed the cat and lord knows what else. I had images of these two assholes going through my underwear drawer, reading my diary, and perusing my emails while sucking up what was left of my liquor supply and eyeballing things they could hock. I had privacy issues at that time, and they were very much aware of it, but that didn't stop them from taking advantage of my hospitality and spending the day mooching off of me while I was away.

Here are the facts...

1. The jacket in question was in the same room these people last stayed in.
2. It was July and I didn't need a jacket so I didn't bother looking for it until now.
3. My friends don't steal from me. Sometimes someone might leave something here and they can count on me holding it for them to pick it up later. This creates a very honest atmosphere.
4. These people were the last people to see the jacket in question.

As far as my leather jacket goes, is it too far a reach to accuse these jerks of taking it back to the Bronx with them?

Anyway... I found this previously unknown video on my cam and felt it fitting to share it with you. Remember. This can happen to YOU!


Monday, October 05, 2009


"In helping others, we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us."
-Flora Edwards

Friday, October 02, 2009

PVC CB Modifications

I was busy, alright.

The thoughts and ideas that flooded my cranium took form in two different components... A new ring generator and a modified frequency generator. I built the generator from scratch using old school technology like circuit boards, resistors, capacitors, and potentiometers, with an extra 9 volt battery that not only allows this unit to run three times longer but with increased amperage. The thought came to me that I should install a few solar collectors to let the sun power this succor up, with some caps to store the unused charge that can be metered out at night, but that idea will have to sit on the back burner for awhile. I got bigger fish to fry.

The ring generator was easier to make than I thought it would be. All it took was an angel-food cake pan and a short piece of PVC pipe for the mold, lots of micron sized particles of aluminum, iron oxide, brass, some ground up crystal shards, and a large mobius coil in the center. I found, in powered applications like this, the smaller the metals, the more powerful the unit becomes. The trade off is, it won't work without some kind of power. That's what the frequency generator is for.

When working with powdered metals it's important to mix the metal with the resin before you pour, otherwise it'll end up like gravy when you add the flour in the last step. It lumps together in dry bubbles of powder. Also, when this resin cures it shrinks. That's a good thing because it releases from the outer sides of the mold but when you use an inner mold, it tends to compress around it, giving it a very tight fit. Unless you can find something a few millimeters larger you'll end up machining the hole. Using vasoline as a release agent helps because the resin won't get past it and makes getting it out of the mold so much easier.

The first test was rather impressive. Firing up the ring with a piece of orgonite in the middle clearly shows the energy signature of the piece your using. This is the best way I know of to tell what shape works best for whatever application you're looking for. For this cloudbuster, a cone tested out as the best shape because of the laser-like energy coming out the top. The opposite end of the scale would be an orb, which sends out energy in all directions.

Assembled, this unit performed spectacularly.

It was a crappy day. One of those fall days you'd rather be somewhere else. Cold, dreary, and horizon to horizon clouds. Perfect for this test. I fired it up, pointed it east and within 15 minutes the sky turned blue where this unit was pointing and tiny droplets of rain came down, indicating the clouds were beginning to break up. The southern sky was still filled with clouds so I repositioned it and within minutes the southern sky began breaking up. A half hour after starting this test, the sky was now blue in the directions I pointed this cloudbuster. You could see the clouds literally falling apart and being replaced by sylphs.

The reflective character of the satellite dish really ramped up the energy flow and focused it like a beam. A nice thing about these dishes are they're easy to mount and swivel in any direction. You'll notice this is a Primestar dish. I got this dish when Primestar was bought out by Direct TV and everyone on the old system had to scrap these old dinosaurs for the new and better dish. If you dig around you'll be sure to find tons of these units for the asking.

I can't help thinking this unit has many more uses than weather modification. I wonder what would happen if I pointed it toward Washington?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I've always believed when you have things on your mind, that are not exactly part of your growth program, you tend to dwell on the details and fail to focus on the big picture. Your mind gets skewed into thinking these details are so important, so necessary in your life, that they fill your life and block out any forward progression.

Things like global warming, the economy, past relationships, emerging relationships, football, politics, current trends, employment, the fall season lineup, religion, same sex marriage, utility bills, mortgage, rent, and this years haircut are all details designed to distract us from the big picture and keep us stuck in a quagmire of crap until we actually believe all this stuff IS our life. It's like saying a cross country road trip is the equivalent of working overtime to make your car payments.

The map isn't the territory.

Six months ago I was making orgonite and piecing together the big picture in a blissful forward progression of unknown discoveries. To me, the details of life that everyone else seems so obsessed with were so far removed from reality that they didn't deserve any more of my attention than an offhand comment or observation. By distancing myself from these details of life, I was able to see from a different perspective. Life was funny and full of secrets and these little secrets were emerging like the Wizard of Oz pulling back the curtain, millimeter by millimeter. I was on the path, merging with the universe and my forward progression was unblocked. I was as happy as I could be, under the circumstances.

Then, out from left field came the negative emotions. All of a sudden I was waist deep in emotional baggage that led me to emotional fights over such stupid details as politics, relationships, mis-communications, football, and petty tit-for-tat paybacks laced with mental disorders. This must be some level of hell Dante couldn't put his finger on.

The menu isn't the meal.

Then it came to me... Just release. Let go. Let it be. Like sands through the hourglass, all we are is dust in the wind, dude.
I let go, alright. I released my aspirations, my hopes, my dreams, my past relationships, my future relationships, my bills... I just let go of all the detritus that was holding me back and I could feel the Earth tethers unwind from my feet and I began to soar.

I went to work the next day to find I was the only one who got a quarterly bonus. I also got a merit increase in pay. As I was pondering this synchronicity, and how it coincided with my recent release, a new orgonite enhancement for my PVC CB entered my head in a fit of cosmic inspiration and I could feel the energy of universal love coursing through my whole nervous system.

Then it hit me... The reason I haven't been making orgonite is because of my negative emotions surrounding all these mundane details. I was actually repelled by my own orgonite, and now that I've become unblocked, I've become re-imbued with a vengeance.

Looks like I'll be busy the next couple of days. I'll keep ya posted.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


"Listening is not merely not talking, though even that is beyond most of our powers; it means taking a vigorous, human interest in what is being told us."
-Alice Deur Miller

Friday, September 18, 2009

Monday, September 14, 2009

Friday, September 11, 2009

an open letter to the ex club

Eowyn, if I didn't know any better I'd say you knew all about love and relationships. Your blog is teeming with advice like compromise, listening to the other persons needs, both working to make it work, etc. I completely agree with you that a couple needs to communicate and strive to understand each other and compromise on issues in order to resolve them.

We never had any problems during the daylight hours. In fact, you were a joy to be with. Your eyes sparkled when I talked to you and I was comfortable with you as my best friend. My days off consisted of us driving to the flea market or having sushi for lunch or any simple adventure from checking out farmers markets, gathering supplies for a new project, or hanging around the homestead working in the yard. Since you weren't working, you would bring me lunch and we would share a few moments in the middle of the day and each morning you kissed me goodbye as I left for work. You had it made. I paid the bills, bought food, and kept you in rum and tobacco. All you had to do was buy a supply once in awhile and give me a few bucks when you felt like it. I put a roof over your head, because you were about to lose yours, and even paid your car insurance.

But night time was the problem. Around 4pm you would start your daily ritual of coffee and rum and by 9pm you stopped using coffee altogether, preferring straight rum by the cupful. I used to be alarmed as I sat downstairs and heard loud crashes telegraphing though the house when you fell off your chair in a drunken stupor. You never seemed to hurt yourself, so I learned to stop worrying. When you finally drank enough, you'd wander into the bedroom and demand food that usually consisted of something I made for dinner hours ago that you never ate because you don't have an appetite when you drink, which was every, single, day. I tried to tell you how anyone who drinks the way you do without eating is going to die. I reminded you, as did your doctor, how your liver can't handle this kind of abuse and booze and hepatitis don't mix. I also reminded you that your nightly, drunken, insane, obnoxious rants about how you hate movies because they aren't real and how Hollywood has lost their soul due to a total lack of morality and how you hate James Taylor because he broke up with Carly Simon and therefore, you refuse to listen to any of his music or watch any films he's in. Drunk girls can be fun if you pick them up on a Saturday night but the same drunken scene, every, single night of the year is overkill and nothing kills romance more than an obnoxious drunk with hepatitis. Although you were still my best friend, the alcohol and the late night fights made the love go away and I told you a long time ago, once it's gone, it's gone for good. But you would NOT compromise on your rum consumption. Say bye bye love.

I tried to compromise by suggesting we drink red wine instead of rum but you wouldn't go for that. I tried to get you to drink sensibly but that never lasted. You're own children tried to make you see what you were doing to yourself and they gave up in disgust. After more than enough late night fights passed I told you we can't live in the same house anymore and I offered to pay your first months rent, the security deposit and I'll even pay for the moving company. All you had to do was find a new place to live. You refused. You had your heels dug in and you weren't going anywhere. I made this offer dozens of times in the past couple years and I still have the check I made out to you for $2,000 just to leave.

All the time this was going on, everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Love and kisses, sunshine and roses, and not a worry in the world. Your facade masked our reality from everyone, which made you look all the more sleazy when everyone found out you and Dave, who you met just hours before, fornicated behind my garage in the pre-dawn hours of July 5th. It wasn't an act of drunken abandon because the liquor ran out hours ago, and before you fucked him you checked the house to make sure no one was awake. Well, I was awake and saw the whole thing and if I didn't say anything you'd still be here, pretending everything is just peachy keen.

My question to you is, if you wanted to leave so bad, why didn't you take me up on my offer and leave sooner? It can't possibly be because you fell in love with Dave. He was clearly a one night stand. He didn't even have a place where you could bang him while I was at work. I was watching him at the party smoking all your cigarettes when you weren't paying attention. He was hitting on at least two other women before he hit on you, but you were the only one to take him up on it. Does Dave love you? Sure, like a glutton loves his lunch. Just like I was your meal ticket, you're his meal ticket and he'll say anything you want to hear and you'll keep up the facade. Yeah, sounds like love to me.

The real question is... What woman wants a guy who hits on another guys girlfriend? What guy wants a woman who fucks someone she doesn't know on her boyfriends lawn while he's in the house? Apparently, each other. That's why you moved out of my house and in with him. Because no one else wants either of you. That, and extreme shame.

And I'm the bad guy. I'm the one with anger issues. I'm the one who made your life so miserable. The reality is I showed remarkable restraint, under the circumstances. Anyone else would've shot you both before you pulled up your pants.

Ya know, I would have preferred you came to me that night and say, "I wanna fuck this guy." At least I would have had a little respect for you.

Angelzwild... What a piece of work. You've been waiting in the wings for Eowyn to leave so you can step right in. You managed to convince me that your past irrational behavior was all because of drugs and since you are off the drugs you're as normal as apple pie. All it took to convince me otherwise was a phone call while we were on IM. The attack you fired at me through email, IM, and phone calls were enough to make me realize it wasn't the drugs... it was YOU. You're just a very fucked up individual who gets her jollies by making crude comments about me on my own blog and glorifying Eowyn for escaping my psychic vampirism and actually make it sound justifiable and rational to fuck a homeless, dirtbag, crack head as the only means of escape. You send the most vile crap to me in every email address you know, only to call up five minutes later and apologize and do it again while you're still talking and telling me your sorry. And you tell me you do this because I didn't send you a "thank you" for some link you emailed me. A half hour after you slam me in a comment, you call to tell me you and two of your friends are coming up to spend the week at my place and I should be happy about that. AS IF! You can't be trusted, you're insincere, you turn on people you call your friends and then wonder why no one likes you. It's a good thing you're agoraphobic and a woman because if you were a man you'd be either in prison or six feet under. Hell, I know at least four woman who would like nothing more than to drive to your house and beat you bloody for being such a vile trouble maker, and they never even met you. From day 1 you never believed one, single thing I ever told you. You believe everyone else, no matter what they say. If Eowyn tells you something about me it's the truth and you act on it. Eowyn is a lot smarter than you are and you're too stupid to realize you're being played. FOOL!

If I have any anger issues it's only with these two pathetic losers who wouldn't know love if it slapped them in the face. One needs love so bad she'll settle for anything. The other is so particular she'll never settle for anything.

Well, I have my freedom and there's many more women out there looking for relationships than guys and I'm not afraid of dying alone, as Angelzwild is so fond of reminding everyone. But these two girls are scared shitless of dying alone, and they have my deepest sympathies.

Now, let's put these dogs to rest.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

rita says...

Rita says bite me!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


I've been ignoring the garden since my lawnmower went on the fritz several weeks ago. I figured the garden would have to wait, since my yard was turning into a hay field. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but there aint no sign of drought here. More rain than I ever saw in August and I only watered the garden once this year.

Anyway... I fixed the mower and went on to fixing the garden, only to find the Turkish tobacco plants were already flowering. This is my first attempt at growing tobacco so each step is a learning process. I figured, if Al Gore can do it, I can do it.

Note the difference between the flowering Turkish tobacco and the Virginia bright to the left. I wasn't expecting such a radical difference.

One thing I learned is I could have doubled the amount of plants if I had planted them in rows instead of using square foot gardening methods. Oh well, I'm new at this. No one is an expert, at first.

Shortly after taking these pictures I broke off the flowers to force growth to the leaves. I don't know what to make of the Virginia bright. I mean, they look bright enough to me, but I was expecting a flower stalk by now. No bother... I'll harvest whether they flower or not.

I wonder if those leaves will make good cigars?

Monday, August 24, 2009

fool the guesser

Every county fair has a guesser. You give the guy some money and he guesses your weight, age, etc. If you fool the guesser you get a teddy bear or some such prize substantially lower in value to the amount of money you put up. It's a good racket and everyone goes away a winner.

I wonder how many of you can guess this woman's weight? Any takers? I'll bet a dollar and a fuzzy thing on the end of a stick you can't guess.

If I was the guesser I'd have to physically pick her up and maybe check her fat to muscle ratio using my index finger and thumb in a couple dozen places.

Seriously, according to the AMA, this girl is considered grossly overweight and should immediately be put on a vegan diet and force fed drugs to bring her to the desired Barbi height/weight ratio.

Well, as we all know, Barbi is plastic with an empty head and has caused a lot of damage to female self esteem for 50 years, resulting in neurosis on a massive scale.

Any takers on guessing her weight?

I'll give you a hint... she's 5'6"

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

global health care

If you don't know how to fix something, all you need to do is study something similar that is working and try to duplicate it as best you can. As long as you have a model, you can reverse engineer and duplicate it with relative ease.

I'm no economist, thank God, but I think our present health care system is like an old Chevy you used for car pooling for the past 40 years without bothering to give it any maintenance. It worked fine back in '69 but now you have to pump up the tires, add a few quarts of oil, and jump start it every morning before you to get to the gas station for another tank of gas to get you to work. Your car pool buddies give you a couple dollars a week for gas, as they have done for decades, and stare blankly out the windows as this piece of crap smokes and sputters it's way through red lights and stop signs to your employment destination. You keep the windows down for this journey because the exhaust leaks through the floorboards. The carbon monoxide and heavy gasoline vapor from unburned fumes fills the cab, brings tears to your eyes, and deadens your senses at a time when you need to be your sharpest. This carbon monoxide/gasoline vapor bath lasts for an hour each morning and evening, draining your life force for two hours a day, five days a week, for your whole working life.

You're not the only car filled with people going to work. Each morning you notice the Germans in their Mercedes limousine blowing your doors off, going 90mph to the same place as you. It takes them about ten minutes each way with climate controlled comfort, an on-board espresso maker, and freshly ironed newspapers printed early that morning and delivered by courier to the limo just before departure.
The French workers get picked up in a Citroen Premier, the English get transport with their Jaguar XJ, and every other car pool has their national vehicle of choice.

Each year, the Mercedes undergoes a complete overhaul by certified Mercedes technicians, replacing and updating all parts that aren't up to their demanding standards. This complete overhaul takes exactly 24 days, usually in August. Periodic maintenance takes place every day, checking the fluids and all systems and lasts about an hour. The French have 30 days each year to perform their annual overhaul with unlimited periodic maintenance, whenever needed. The English have a mere 20 days a year to maintain their Jaguar XJ but periodic maintenance is consistent.
The 40 year old American Chevy has 12 days a year to perform this annual maintenance but the mechanics (as opposed to technicians) have just enough time to give it a general tune-up and change the oil at Quickie Lube before they outsource it to a gentleman from Pakistan for his taxi business.

The health care system is just like this car scenario. German vacation time is a guaranteed 24 days a year paid vacation, the English get 20 days paid leave, the French get a whopping 30 days guaranteed paid vacation a year, unlimited sick days, full child care, and social workers who come to help new parents adjust to the strains and challenges of child-rearing.

Americans get, on average, 12 vacation days a year. In most cases, they don't even get that unless they work full time for at least 90 days. Some places require one year working for your present company before you're entitled to a weeks vacation, if any at all.
If you go to Germany any time in August you won't find many Germans. Why? Because they're all on vacation in places like Thailand, India, The U.S., Italy, Spain, and anywhere else because they have a whole month paid vacation no matter how long you work for that particular company.

Where do Americans go for vacation?

The shore closest to their homes so they can drive out, get a tan, party at night, and drive back to their jobs, tired, hungover, and sunburned.

What does all this vacation talk have to do with health care? Isn't it obvious? You beat yourselves up at work to have a vacation that stresses you out because of time and money restraints, just to go back the the same old, same old for another year. If you're lucky, you might have sick time to take care of yourself. Take off too much time and you'll lose your job. No pay, no vacations, lots of unpaid bills, and no health insurance.

Depression due to prolonged stress and a diet of fast food is no way to go through life, but to many Americans, that's exactly what life is all about.

After all, how do you expect to become wealthy if you don't work long hours with three jobs shoveling shit in hell for minimum wage? That IS the American way. This is the land of opportunity where anyone can strike it rich and become a millionaire just by waking up early and putting your shoulder to the grindstone for eight hours a day with a half-hour lunch and 2 ten minute breaks so you can discuss stock options with your workmates.

Isn't that the American way to prosperity and happiness?
Or would you rather have health care like the rest of the free world?

OMG! What a crappy post!

I was in such a hurry to get this done I totally missed my own point and it makes me look like a Chevy hating, foreign car buying, supporter of Obama's putrid health care plan.

Let me clarify a few things.

1. I chose a 40 year old Chevy because it stretches the bounds of reality to expect anyone to believe that a Ford can last any more than 20 years. Chevy is the only American car that can put up with that kind of abuse.

2. I was ranting about vacations and how a month of vacations a year can keep you more healthy than the best health care on Earth. In fact, vacations are the ultimate health care. Just ask those old fossils in congress. Most are octogenarians who have a vacation that lasts 9 months out of the year and they still have an active sex life screwing the American public every day.

3. The present American economic system makes any kind of universal health care virtually impossible. Insurance companies are deeply embedded in the system and aren't going to give up anything. Expecting the government to pay medical expenses for non-working, indigent, useless eaters ultimately comes out of the pockets of working people who are already overburdened with higher taxes, higher insurance costs, higher costs for everything, shitty jobs with shitty pay, and no end in sight of this socialist downward spiral of Wall St. greed with the blessing of an ass-licking congress. Uncle Sam's only job is taking your money and giving it to someone else, less expenses. Every dime you get from Uncle Sam costs some other guy a dollar.

4. If you want a health care model that works, look to countries that have a good working model and see what they've done and what their people think about it.

5. If you're unwilling to completely gut your whole, broken, economic system for the good of mankind, then don't do anything.

6. Pay for your own health care and quit complaining. If you want a free ride learn English and get a job on Wall St.

7. I think Barry Obama and his health care plan sucks!

8. I drive my own car to work.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Once In A Lifetime

Time isn't holding us. Time isn't after us.
That's all i need to know.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Thursday, August 13, 2009

it's watermelon time

When I saw all those dead watermelon vines, all I could think was green watermelon. Sure, green watermelon has it's place but not in this house. So, I set it on the counter and thought about who to give it to.

In the meantime, I needed bread for tomorrow so I made a few loaves of onion/rosemary bread. Not to sound too egotistical, my bread is the best, and packing a loaf of this food of the gods with ham, salami, cucumbers, and mayo is a gastronomical slice of heaven that would make Escoffier cry with joy with a single bite.

The bread was excellent but I kept eye balling that pitiful excuse for a watermelon on my counter. I figured if it was going to go, I may as well take a peek inside.

Let me tell ya, this scarlet morsel tastes just as wonderful as it looks.

As I was taking hits from a chunk of bread and then a watermelon slice it dawned on me...
The best things in life are the simple ones, where we don't expect much but are wondrously overjoyed when a harsh exterior holds something so sweet and delicious.

Just like some people we know.

Thursday, August 06, 2009

extreme stunt landing

I thought this was interesting.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium by Jon Rawlinson

weeding the garden

If you have anything to do with gardening, you can relate to the never ending weeding that it requires. Given the chance, weeds will over populate the garden and subdue anything you really want to grow. Left unchecked, this crabgrass, myrtle, and lambs quarters will entrench themselves into every corner of the garden until all that's left is noxious weeds that even the bugs won't eat. Say bye bye to your tomatoes and rhubarb and hello to poison ivy.

Your life is just like a garden. Given the space, you can grow and flourish and produce enough to feed a small army. As your arms reach to the cosmos in a balanced symphony of photosynthesis and Earth nutrients, you can't help but evolve to a state of total spiritual perfection.

And then the weeds set in...

By weeds, I mean the parasitic detritus in your life. Those useless eaters who feed off your soul like fleas feed on a dog. You can pull them out but leave their head under your skin and they come back with a vengeance. It's like an old, psychotic girl friend who "accidentally" leaves her hairbrush or ear rings as a reason to come back because she just hasn't sucked enough of your life force and, just like Dracula's daughter, she needs to feed from time to time. You might think an old girl friend won't be that bad but think again... She's not an EX- girl friend for nothing. There was a major reason why you got rid of her in the past, and just like a weed, the genetic structure doesn't change. It doesn't matter how much time passes... a toxic plant like poison ivy will never become a blueberry bush. If she was psychotic then, and you know she wasn't undergoing therapy, the chances are really good she's psychotic now and she's hungrier than ever.

One look in my garden and I immediately saw the connection between dead-weight people and weeds. They both suck you dry. They both use vital nutrients needed for your survival. They both over-stay their welcome. They both increase entropy. Look at what happens to your pepper plants if left untended. First the weeds creep in, followed closely by insect life and vermin, feeding off all the hard work you put into maintaining this little plot of land. The weeds could represent the unemployed drifters you allowed into your space. The next time they come around they bring some insects, i.e., felons, low-life's, reprobates, and degenerates, who feed off the contents of your refrigerator, pantry, and liquor supply like potato bugs on an eggplant. If left untended, the vermin show up with a squad car because one of the insects rolled over on you to keep from going to the bug house. And the financial loss is nothing compared to the spiritual stifling.

The first thing to do to prevent this infestation is to identify the weeds from the productive plants. It's pretty easy to spot, sometimes. The productive plants produce SOMETHING. The weeds just multiply and get in the way and wait for the bugs and vermin.

The second thing to do is get rid of them! Go through your life, as you would through a garden, and yank these parasites up by the roots and discard them to the compost heap.

Make a list of rules.
1. No sleepovers unless the host taps you on the shoulder.
2. Bring something besides yourselves.
3. Bring your own tobacco. There's a store 2 miles down the road. Walk if you have to.
4. Bring a vehicle to take you home.
5. If the booze runs out it's your fault. Get some more or do without.

These rules can be added to when situations present themselves but think twice about deleting any.

Just because you like honey is no reason to stick your head in the bees nest.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

tuesday morning 6am

I love early summer mornings. The dew on the grass, the predawn light, the freshness of a day yet to be polluted by machines.

I took a stroll through the veggie garden this morning to see how the fruits of my labor are coming along. Already I pulled a dozen zucchinis, as long as my arm, out of the garden, as well as tons of cucumbers. The tomatoes are just about ready for green frying and the watermelon is right on schedule. I have to admit I only fed these plants once this year and allowed mother nature to provide the rest. I do believe the cloudbuster, as the centerpiece of this project, has much to do with that.

It seems I need to pay attention to the weeds a little more.

Not bad for a garden that's been on auto pilot for the last 2 months.

I wonder how orgone will affect tobacco plants?

Thursday, July 23, 2009

I need a new group of friends

I noticed some of these friends of mine tend to over-stay their welcomes. I'm not talking about someone who leaves just as you're going to bed, or someone who stays the night to sleep it off rather than try to drive home. I'm talking about a group of people who think it's acceptable behavior to not only spend the night but drink all your liquor, eat all your food, smoke all your tobacco, pass out in your favorite chair, and wake up late morning so they can sit around all day doing absolutely nothing but be in the way and complain because you ran out of food, liquor, and tobacco. One guy goes so far as to take the clock off the wall and disable it because the tick, tick, tick bothers him. Who cares if the owner of the house needs to see what time it is so he can get to work on time. Work? What's that? These moochers don't have to be anywhere at any time so they may as well plant their lazy asses in your living room or kitchen or spare bedroom because they don't have homes of their own. It would justify it a little if they'd do something constructive like clean up after themselves but all they seem capable of doing is dumping ashtrays in the garbage, sometimes setting the can on fire, with the occasional sound of breaking glass in the background. I was irritated when these parasites stayed after a party til 3 the next afternoon but I saw red when I came home at 6:30 the day after a party to see these leeches camped out in my place without the slightest thought of leaving. These are the same people who think it's perfectly ok to take a handful of cigarettes when they finally DO leave, as some kind of past party favor or something. I mean, when you see a guy sleeping on the sofa at 4am and see the very same guy still sleeping on this sofa at 6pm the next day and a girl walks up to you and says, "What's the matter? I just woke up." and the back yard is filled with these penniless deadbeats surrounded by empty bottles and cans and the thought never crosses anyone's mind to try cleaning up the sticky stuff all over the kitchen floor, you start getting the feeling you're being taken for granted. The kicker is these two assholes who come to visit (late night, of course) and can't seem to get up in the morning no matter how many shotgun rounds you fire under their bedroom window. I need to get to work so I leave a note that says, "Good morning. Help yourself to coffee and lock the door when you leave.", meaning drink your coffee and leave. I get back at 6:30 that night to find my door unlocked, my food eaten, and a note that says something about my alarm clock with a spent shotgun shell next to it, telling me they woke up but didn't feel like getting up. I later discovered they spent the day surfing on my computer, eating my food, and left the door unlocked so they could get back inside after going shopping. None of these people bring anything to the parties. I don't mind supplying a gallon of rum or a few cases of beer but these slugs can drain that in an hour and then drink the last of your wine collection and still mooch cigarettes because they forgot to bring their own and then they accidentally wear your favorite sunglasses home when they finally do leave.

If you happen to be one of these "friends," do me a favor and go someplace else from now on. That is, if you can afford the internet connection.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

15 days

The Kübler-Ross model, commonly known as the five stages of grief, was first introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book, On Death and Dying. The five stages of grief, i.e., denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, was described as a process that people go through when death is imminent. The end of a relationship is as devastating as the death of a close family member, therefor, the five stages of grief hold true when a relationship has ended.

Fifteen days ago, through a bizarre set of circumstances, my live-in girlfriend of three years packed her bags and left. Abrupt and final. The absolute death of a relationship as quick as a car accident with no possibility of reversal. The relationship may have been ill but it didn't go terminal until July 5, 2009, and one day later the plug was pulled, ceasing all life support.

I suppose I was in denial when it first happened. "I don't believe this. This can't be for real."
When it happened I had a semi-clear head and a distinct adrenalin rush that lasted all day, even though I woke up at 6am that morning and spent the day and night drinking with friends for the 4th. I wasn't angry but I was hurt. If you're hurt bad enough in a car accident you go into shock. Your mind becomes separated and distant and everything is disconnected. Your mind won't accept what happened and that's pretty much how I felt. Definitely, denial had reared its ugly head.

A few days later, as I was burning some leftover detritus she left behind, I suddenly became angry. I mean I was pissed off about how this woman, who caused so much hurt, was getting away so easily. That was only a small reason and the only reason I could rationalize as to why I was so angry. I then realized I was angry in a general sort of way and I was looking for reasons for my extreme emotional swing. Anger without a clear reason is frustrating and that made me even more pissed off. At least I wasn't depressed. That would be much worse.

A couple days later I was thinking of reasons why it all went down and the seriously crazy, life-altering, mega stupid decisions she made that put her in a situation that will mind-fuck her for the rest of her life, living with a dead-beat dad she doesn't even know who has no job, no car, no money, no education, and no prospects. She must have planned this, I thought. She must have been drunk and didn't know what she was doing. He must have seduced her by faking sensitivity and she gave in because he showed her he cared. WRONG! It wasn't planned and she wasn't that drunk. It was premeditated. I got through bargaining.

Depression hit this week. This is the one the almost dead dread. As I sat outside, watching the clouds drift by, I thought about things. It was hard to talk to people, but I did. I wasn't my jovial self. I was more quiet, slow, and thoughtful and ..... depressed. I was soooo down. No real reason for it but I recognized the symptoms. Not wanting to talk and didn't care to get cheered up. I was quieter and just didn't care about life, the universe, or anything. And then it hit me........... DEPRESSION! Yeah, baby! Only one more step to go and WOOHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Acceptance is easy! Bring it on, baby! Get that depression going and let the healing begin. I'm not dead. Hell, man, my life has made a giant turn for the better and I aint lookin back. Gone are the days of "psychic flashes" from this woman who reads my mail for insight. No more drunken, late night arguements about how movies suck because "Hollywood has jetisoned their morally bankrupt souls" because now there aint a morally bankrupt soul in THIS house. At least I didn't fuck someone I don't even know behind her garage. I do wish her good health dealing with her hepatitis. I wonder if she told him yet? Probably not.
Anyway, this soul has emerged like a phoenix from the ashes and what's behind me is not in front of me.
Let the good times roll, baby!


Monday, July 06, 2009

a little haiku

Inhibitions rule

Behind the garage they were

The girl is leaving

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Sunday, June 28, 2009

health care reform - how to do it

I have a very simple solution for the present health care crisis. It's so simple, I don't know why anyone hasn't thought of it sooner. Perhaps the reason the big shots that rule the world haven't done something is because they were only thinking of themselves and not the little people who don't have their very own private medical staff to look over every bump and anal polyp they come across.

The solution to the health care crisis is simply to print up a trillion dollars and throw it at the health care professionals to take care of the little peoples bumps and anal polyps. This trillion dollars can be put in a big safe in The Department of Health and every time someone goes to the hospital or doctors office or gets a prescription, the bill goes directly to the Department of Health and is instantly paid in full. To keep this safe full of cash, the Department of Health can invest it in derivatives and credit default swaps, and high yield stocks like Chrysler, General Motors and A.I.G. This is such a sure-fire plan that every government worker, i.e., congressmen, senator, civil servant, will have all their health care from this fund.

What's so hard about that, Barry?

Sunday, June 21, 2009

an apology

Two weeks ago the weatherman said we would have relentless rain for the weekend. Since we were going to party that Sunday I had to do something, so the Thursday before, I set up the cloudbuster to earth battery and ground water, and pointed it south to stimulate the skies to make it rain. The idea was to get the water out of the sky so the weekend would be a bit drier.
Although the weatherman said Thursday and Friday would be dry, it turned out to be non-stop rain, turning the weathermen into the biggest liars since they invented aluminum siding salesmen. The day before the party I unhooked the cloudbuster from groundwater and spun it facing north to chase away the front that was moving in.
My plan worked, and that weekend, instead of torrential downpours, we had only a few drops. Not near enough to dampen our revelry.

The problem came after the party. I forgot to move the cloudbuster. For two weeks straight, we had nothing but hazy, rainy, humid weather. Every day it was ugly, rainy, and too hot, and too cold at the same time. The whole month of June became the shittiest time of the year. Everyone complained, and all the weatherman could say was we would have more of the same for at least another week and maybe, just maybe, we might have a little sunshine next weekend, but don't hold your breath, because this crappy weather is all part of the global warming/climate change, and it's the price we pay for driving cars and flushing toilets...blah blah blah. Even the weatherman was starting to think this weather will be here to stay.

As I sat outside of work and watched the shitty clouds drift across the shitty sky, I couldn't help thinking, If I'm so full of myself that I can cure a rainy day, why can't I do something about this?

The problem was the cloudbuster was still pointing north. Maybe if I spin it around... Hell, anything is better than this!

So, I pointed it south, put the orgone shotgun in the front yard -- and a half hour later, the sky started moving. Not just moving, but barrel-assing across the sky with a heading of south-south-east. (Sorry, Philly.) The sky above all this shitty vapor was azure blue, with puffy, white clouds. It was as if the crappy, low-level shit clouds were all heading directly where my cloudbuster was pointing toward, and disappearing into blue sky.

I never saw anything like it. It was as if the sky was like one, big, toilet full of crap, and someone just flushed. As I look out my window, all I can see is blue sky and sunshine. June is back again!

The news will say the stalled, stale air was moved by a low-pressure front, pushing it south and out to sea.

I have a different theory. I believe by setting the cloudbuster to north and keeping it there, I set up my own orgone front blocking the air mass to the north. The clouds kept breaking up with no where to go, so it just fell in the form of precipitation, when the relative humidity approached 90%.

All I know is the weatherman said we would have more of the same crappy weather for the rest of the week. I'm beginning to think the weatherman is full of shit because, as you can see by this most recent pic, the skies are blue and full of sun for the first time in two weeks.

Anyway, I want to apologize to everyone in NEPA for all the crappy weather you all had to endure these past two weeks. Just because I don't care if it rains or shines is no reason to spoil everyone's outdoor plans.

Please take these words in earnest....


Hey, that makes me feel so much better.
How about you?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Thursday, June 04, 2009

orgonite grips

The first thing I bought for my .45 was a Pachmayr grip. I later got a beaver tail safety, because I was tired of pinching hand flesh every time I fired it. The skeletalized hammer not only looks so cool but it came with the beaver tail.
I've been thinking about buying other things for this weapon like a skeletalized trigger, ambidextrous safety, extended slide release, and about 20 other items designed to make a 1911 even more accurate than government specs.
But then, I'd put this Norinco .45 up against any Wilson Combat 1911, as far as accuracy goes, for 1/50th the price.

Anyway... I thought it was time to do something nice for my gun so I got busy and made a set of orgonite grips. I know it seems to go against the orgone philosophy but what better way to bless a weapon that can blow a hole through something the size of a grapefruit than to adorn it with a nice set of customized, orgonite grips?

Each grip is embedded with a quartz crystal and several fluorite crystals in a matrix of clear resin and shaved brass.

Fluorite is said to absorb and neutralize negative vibrations. It makes one more receptive to the vibrations of other stones. Fluorite should be kept in every room of the home. Fluorite is known as the "Genius Stone". It also increases concentration and helps in decision making.

...... I should think anyone with a weapon in his hand should have good decision making skills and high concentration so you can shoot the bad guys and not the good guys, right? And if you're like some of the folks around here you'll have one of these little beauties in every room of the house to increase your concentration and decision making when uninvited guests decide to drop by at 3am.

I'm surprised Smith & Wesson doesn't have a whole line of orgonite grips and stocks for all the reptoid hunters out there. I wonder if there's a crystal that will improve common sense to make grips for all the fed swat teams and local doughnut munchers?

Now tell me, isn't that the most beautiful piece of orgonite self-protection you ever saw? The pics don't do justice to this piece. The clear resin gives it a 3D look making the embedded stones seem to float, and it just feels good in your hand. So superior to the rubber feel of the old Pachmayr. I can't wait to rock 'n roll with this baby tomorrow.

Looks like I'll be shopping for an ambidextrous extended slide release and a new holster for non-concealed carry next week. No sense in hiding this beauty.

I wonder what I can do with the 12 gauge?