ah pook is here

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.

junkie's christmas

William Burroughs.  You da man.

a junkie's christmas

on the planet earth in the 21st century

hundreds gather to protest global warming

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

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.     

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?

 

the last supper

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