this is a 1 post thread.No bantering back and forth,just 1 post,so be very careful about what you say.O.K.i'm done that was my post.peace
I'm watching American Idol right now and praying to God that Taylor Hicks doesn't get kicked off the show this week.
Why did the Chicken Cross the Road? To steal a job from a decent, hardworking American. - Pat Buchanan Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes! The chicken crossed the road, But why it crossed, I've not been told! - Dr. Seuss To die. In the rain. - Ernest Hemingway I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question. - Martin Luther King, Jr In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us. - Grandpa Because the chicken was gay! Isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to 'the other side'. That's what 'they' call it the 'other side'. Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrase like 'the other side'. That chicken should not be free to cross the road. It's as plain and simple as that. - Jerry Falwell It is the nature of chickens to cross the road. - Aristotle It was a historical inevitability. - Karl Marx This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it. - Saddam Hussein What chicken? - Ronald Reagan To boldly go where no chicken has gone before. - Captain James T. Kirk You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it? - Fox Mulder The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity. - Freud I have just released eChicken 2000, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken. - Bill Gates Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken? - Einstein I did not cross the road with that chicken. What do you mean by "chicken"? Could you define "chicken", please? - Bill Clinton I don't think I should have to answer that question. - George W. Bush The road, you will see, represents the black man. The chicken crossed the "black man" in order to trample him and keep him down. - Louis Farrakhan And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing. - The Bible I missed one? - Colonel Sanders Communication There was this Asian lady married to an English gentleman, and they lived in London. The poor lady was not very proficient in English, but managed to communicate with her husband. The real problem arose whenever she had to shop for groceries. One day, she went to the butcher and wanted to buy chicken legs. She didn't know how to put forward her request, and in desperation, lifted up her skirt to show her thighs. The butcher got the message and the lady went home with chicken legs. The next day, she needed to get chicken breasts. Again, she didn't know how to say it, and so she unbuttoned her blouse to show the butcher her breasts. The lady got her chicken breasts & left! On the 3rd day, the poor lady needed to buy sausages. Unable to find a way to communicate this, she brought her husband to the store... . . . What were you thinking? Hellooooooo ?????????? .... Her husband speaks English!!!!! Moses Talks with God Excuse me, Sir. Is that you again, Moses? I'm afraid it is, Sir. What is it this time, Moses; more computer problems? How did you guess? I don't have to guess, Moses. Remember? Oh, yes; I forgot. Tell me what you want, Moses. But you already know, Sir. Remember? Moses! Sorry, Sir. Well, go ahead, Moses; spit it out. Well, I have a question, Sir. You know those ten 'things' you sent me via e-mail? You mean the Ten Commandments, Moses? That's it. I was wondering if they are important. What do you mean 'if they are important,' Moses? Of course, they are important. Otherwise, I would not have sent them to you. Well, sorry, Sir, but I lost them. I could say the dog ate them; but, of course, you would see right through that. What do you mean you 'lost them'? Are you trying to tell me you didn't save them, Moses? No, Sir; I forgot. You should always save, Moses. Yes, I know. You told me that before. I was going to save them, but I forgot. I did forward them to some people before I lost them though. And did you hear back from any of them? You already know I did. There was the one guy who said he never uses 'shalt not.' May he change the words a little bit? Yes, Moses, as long as he does not change the meaning. And what about the guy who thought your stance was a little harsh, and recommended calling them the 'Ten Suggestions', or letting people pick one or two to try for a while? Moses, I will act as if I did not hear that. I think that means 'no'. Well, what about the guy who said I was scamming him? I think the term is 'spamming,' Moses. Oh, yes. I. E-mailed him back and told him I don't even eat that stuff, and I have no idea how you can send it to someone through a computer. And what did he say? You know what he said. He used Your name in vain. You don't think he might have sent me one of those -- err -- plagues, and that's the reason I lost those ten 'things', do you? They are not plagues; they are called 'viruses,' Moses. Whatever! This computer stuff is just too much for me. Can we go back to those stone tablets? It was hard on my back taking them out and reading them each day, but at least I never lost them. We will do it the new way, Moses; using computers!! I was afraid you would say that, Sir. Moses, what did I tell you to do if you messed up? You told me to hold up this rat and point it toward the computer. It's a mouse, Moses, not a rat. Mouse! Mouse! And did you do that? No, I decided to try calling technical support first. After all, who knows more about this stuff than you? And I really like your hours. By the way, Sir, did Noah have two of these mice on the ark? No, Moses. One other thing. Why did you not name them 'frogs' instead of 'mice,' because did you not tell me the thing they sit on is a pad? I did not name them, Moses. Man did, and you can call yours a frog if you want to. Oh, that explains it. I bet some woman told Adam to call it a mouse. After all, was it not a woman who named one of the computers 'Apple?' Say good night, Moses. Wait a minute, Sir. I am pointing the mouse, and it seems to be working. Yes, a couple of the ten 'things' have come back. Which ones are they, Moses? Let me see. 'Thou shalt not steal from any grave an image' and 'Thou shalt not uncover Thy neighbor's wife.' Turn the computer off, Moses. I'm sending you another set of stone tablets. Two Lanes or Four A man walking along a California beach was deep in prayer. All of a sudden, he said out loud, "Lord, grant me one wish". The sky clouded above his head and in a booming voice, the Lord said, "Because you have tried to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish." The man said, "Build a bridge to Hawaii so that I can drive over anytime I want". The Lord said, "Your request is very materialistic. Think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking. The supports required to reach the bottom of the Pacific! The concrete and steel it would take! I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire for worldly things. Take a little more time and think of another wish, a wish you think would honor and glorify me." The man thought about it for a long time. Finally he said, "Lord, I wish that I could understand women. I want to know how they feel inside, what they are thinking when they give the silent treatment, why they cry, what they mean when they say 'nothing', and how I can make a woman truly happy." The Lord replied, "You want two lanes or four lanes on that bridge?" Bad Parrot A woman went to a pet shop and immediately spotted a large beautiful parrot. There was a sign on the cage that said $50.00. "Why so little," she asked the pet store owner. The owner looked at her and said, "Look, I should tell you first that this bird used to live in a house of prostitution, and sometimes it says some pretty vulgar stuff." The woman thought about this, but decided she had to have the bird anyway. She took it home and hung the bird's cage up in her living room and waited for it to say something. The bird looked around the room, then at her, and said, "New house, new madam." The woman was a bit shocked at the implication, but then thought "that's not so bad". When her two teenage daughters returned from school the bird saw them and said, "New house, new madam, new girls". The girls and the woman were a bit offended but then began to laugh about the situation. Moments later the woman's husband, Keith, came home from work. The bird looked at him and said, "Hi Keith". A really bad day! This little guy is sitting at the bar just staring at his drink. He's been sitting there for half an hour when this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, grabs his drink and gulps it down in one swig. The poor little guy starts crying. "Come on man, I was just giving you a hard time," says the truck driver. "I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man crying." "This is the worst day of my life," says the little guy between sobs. "I can't do anything right. I over-slept and was late to an important meeting, so my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car was stolen and I have no insurance. I grabbed a cab home but after the cab left, I discovered I had left my wallet in it. At home I found my wife in bed with the gardener. So I came to this bar and was thinking about putting an end to my life and then you show up and drink the damn poison." The Test I was happy. My girlfriend and me were dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. My parents helped us in every way; my friends encouraged me, and my girlfriend? She was a dream! There was only one thing bothering me, quite much indeed, and that was my mother-in-law to be. She was a career woman, smart, but most of all beautiful and sexy, who sometimes flirted me, which made me feel uncomfortable. One day she called me and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. So I went. She was alone, and when I arrived, she whispered to me, that soon I was to be married, and she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. So before I got married and committed my life to her daughter, she wanted to make love to me just once... What could I say? I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word. So, she said, I'll go to the bedroom, and if you are up for it, just come and get me. I stood there for a moment, and then turned around and went to the front door... I opened it, and stepped out of the house. Her husband was standing outside, and with tears in his eyes, hugged me and said, we are very happy and pleased, you have passed our little test. We couldn't have asked for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family. Moral of the story: Always keep your condoms in your car. Technology Three men, one American, one Japanese and an Irishman were sitting naked in a sauna. Suddenly there was a beeping sound. The American pressed his forearm and the beeping stopped. The others looked at him questioningly. "That was my pager" he said, "I have a microchip under the skin of my arm". A few minutes later a phone rang. The Japanese fellow lifted his palm to his ear. When he finished he explained, "That was my mobile phone. I have a microchip in my hand". The Irishman felt decidedly low tech, but not to be outdone he decided he had to do something just as impressive. He stepped out of the sauna and went to the toilet. He returned with a piece of toilet paper hanging from his behind. The others raised their eyebrows and stared at him. The Irishman finally said... "Well, will you look at that! I'm getting a fax!" The Man and the Ostrich A man walks into a restaurant with an ostrich behind him, and as he sits down, the waitress comes over, and asks for their order. The man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries, and a coke", then turns to the ostrich and asks, "What's yours?" "I'll have the same", says the ostrich. A short time later, the waitress returns with the order. "That will be $6.40 please", she says and the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out exact change for payment. The next day, the man and the ostrich come again, and the man says, "I'll have a hamburger, fries, and a coke", and the ostrich says, "I'll have the same". Once again the man reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change. This becomes a routine until, late one evening, the two enter again. "The usual?" asks the waitress. "No, this is Friday night, so I will have a steak, baked potato, and salad", says the man. "Same for me", says the ostrich. A short time later the waitress comes with the order and says, "That will be $32.62". Once again the man pulls exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table. The waitress can't hold back her curiosity any longer. "Excuse me, sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket every time?" "Well", says the man, "several years ago I was cleaning the attic and I found an old lamp. When I rubbed it a genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I could just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there". "That's brilliant!", says the waitress. "Most people would wish for a million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!" "Well, that's right! Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact amount is always there", says the man. The waitress asks, "One other thing, sir. What's with the ostrich?" The man replies, "My second wish was for a chick with long legs". American Pizza An American businessman goes to Japan on a business trip, but he hates Japanese food, so he asks the concierge at his hotel if there's any place around where he can get American food. The concierge tells him he's in luck, there's a pizza place that just opened, and they deliver. The concierge gives the businessman the phone number, and he goes back to his room and orders a pizza. Thirty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up to the door with the pizza. The businessman takes the pizza, and starts sneezing uncontrollably. He asks the deliveryman, "What the Heck did you put on this pizza?" The deliveryman bows deeply and says, "We put on the pizza what you ordered, pepper only." Stumpy and Martha Stumpy and his wife Martha went to the state fair every year. Every year Stumpy would say, "Martha, I'd like to ride in that there airplane." And every year Martha would say, "I know Stumpy, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars." One year Stumpy and Martha went to the fair and Stumpy said, "Martha, I'm 71 years old. If I don't ride that airplane this year I may never get another chance." Martha replied, "Stumpy, that there airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars." The pilot overheard them and said, "Folks, I'll make you a deal, I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you, but if you say one word it's ten dollars." Stumpy and Martha agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word was heard. He did all his tricks over again, but still not a word. They landed and the pilot turned to Stumpy, "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't." Stumpy replied, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but ten dollars is ten dollars." Our Lives Explained On the very first day, God created the cow. He said to the cow, "Today I have created you! As a job of a cow, you must go to the field with the farmer all day long. You will work all day under the sun! I will give you a life span of 50 years." The cow objected, "What?! This is a kind of tough life you want me to live for 50 years?! Let me have 20 years. The 30 years I'll give back to you." "Ok", God agreed. On the very second day, God created the dog. God said to the dog, "What you are supposed to do is to sit all day by the door of your house! Any people that come in, you will have to bark at them! I'll give you a life span of 20 years!" The dog objected, "What?! All day long to sit by the door?! No way! I will give you back my other 10 years of life!" So God agreed. On the third day, God created the monkey. He said to the monkey, "Monkey has to entertain people. You got to make them laugh and do monkey tricks. I'll give you 20 years life span." The monkey objected, "What?! Make them laugh?! Do monkey faces and tricks?! Ten years will do and the other 10 years I'll give you back." So God agreed. On the fourth day, God created man and said to him, "Your job is to sleep, eat, and play. You will enjoy everything in your life very much. All you need to do is to enjoy and do nothing. For this kind of life, I'll give you 20 years of life span." The man objected, "What?! Such a good life! Eat, play, sleep, do nothing?! Enjoy the best and you expect me to live only for 20 years?! No way, man!.... OK! Why don't we make a deal? Since the cow gave you back 30 years, the dog gave you back 10 years and the monkey gave you back 10 years, I will take them from you! That makes my life span 70 years, right?" So God agreed. And that is why..... In our first 20 years, we eat, sleep, play, enjoy the best and do nothing much. For the next 30 years, we work all daylong, suffer and get to support the family. For the next 10 years, we entertain our grandchildren by making monkey faces and monkey tricks. For the last 10 years, we stay at home, sit in front of the door and bark at people. Ok there's my one post... teepi
If the chicken crossed the road it was because Bill Clinton was probably chasing it in order to shove his tiny pecker up its egg chute.
HaHaHaHaHaHaHAHAHAHAAHHHHHHHHHHaAAAAAAAAAhhhaahaHahOhho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for the laugh! This is all I could come up with to follow all THAT...... Perhaps one of the most interesting and colorful words in the English language today is the word "fuck". It is the one magical word which, just by its sound, can describe pain, pleasure, love, and hate. In language, "fuck" falls into many grammatical categories. * It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John). * It can be an action verb (John really gives a fuck), a passive verb (Mary really doesn't give a fuck), an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in John), or as a noun (Mary is a terrific fuck). * It can also be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date with Mary).* * It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck, she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".* Aside from its sexual connotations, this incredible word can be used to describe many situations... Greetings** "How the fuck are ya?" Fraud****** "I got fucked by the car dealer." Resignation "Oh, fuck it!" Trouble**** "I guess I'm fucked now." Aggression* "FUCK YOU!" Disgust**** "Fuck me." Confusion** "What the fuck.......?" Difficulty* "I don't understand this fucking business!" Despair**** "Fucked again..." Pleasure*** "I fucking couldn't be happier." Displeasure "What the fuck is going on here?" Lost******* "Where the fuck are we." Disbelief** "UNFUCKING BELIEVABLE!" Retaliation "Up your fucking ass!" Denial***** "I didn't fucking do it." Perplexity* "I know fuck all about it." Apathy***** "Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?" Greetings** "How the fuck are ya?" Suspicion** "Who the fuck are you?" Panic****** "Let's get the fuck out of here." Directions* "Fuck off." Disbelief** "How the fuck did you do that?" It can be used in an anatomical description- "He's a fucking asshole." It can be used to tell time- "It's five fucking thirty." It can be used in business- "How did I wind up with this fucking job?" It can be maternal- "Mother fucker." It can be political- "Fuck Dan Quayle!" It has also been used by many notable people throughout history... "What the fuck was that?" - Mayor of Hiroshima "Where the fuck is all this water coming from?" - Captain of the Titanic "That's not a real fucking gun." - John Lennon "Who's gonna fucking find out?" - Richard Nixon "Heads are going to fucking roll." - Anne Boleyn "Let the fucking woman drive." - Commander of Space Shuttle "What fucking map?" - "Challenger," Mark Thatcher "Any fucking idiot could understand that." - Albert Einstein "It does so fucking look like her!" - Picasso "How the fuck did you work that out?" - Pythagoras "You want what on the fucking ceiling?" - Michaelangelo "Fuck a duck." - Walt Disney "Why?- Because its fucking there!" - Edmund Hilary "I don't suppose its gonna fucking rain?" - Joan of Arc "Scattered fucking showers my ass." - Noah "I need this parade like I need a fucking hole in my head." - John F. Kennedy
"I share the belief of many of my contemporaries that the spiritual crisis pervading all spheres of Western industrial society can be remedied only by a change in our world view. We shall have to shift from the materialistic, dualistic belief that people and their environment are separate, toward a new consciousness of an all-encompassing reality, which embraces the experiencing ego, a reality in which people feel their oneness with animate nature and all of creation." -Albert Hofmann, Inventor of LSD, 1906 - present
I'm looking at my kid's goldfish, and it has a shit attached to it's fishy ass, that is longer than the entire fish! Can you imagine shitting something LONGER than yourself? Is my son giving this fish the wrong food? Can't the fish knock that shit off on the little sandcastle at the bottom of the tank or something? Does having a shit longer than her body BOTHER her in any way? Is this fish a girl? We have always assumed she was, since my then 3 year old daughter named her Orange Princess and refers to her as a "her." I refer to most animals of unknown gender as "she" as a way of rectifying years of sexual inequality. But I don't know if calling a fucking squirrel a "she" is really going to do any good. Do you know what WOULD do some good? If my husband would put down the beer and go out and get me some chocolate. Now that would be good. I wish he would EMPTY his fucking ashtrays, I yelled at him the other day, because my 6 year old was choking on cig smoke, and I TOLD him I thought one of the things was smoldering, but he said it wasn't and then about an hour later, I went into the kitchen and I could smell smoke, so I checked the dryer in the basement, thinking someond hadn't cleaned the trap, then I checked the oven, then the space heater in the library, then, as I was throwing out a piece of crap I found, smoke started billowing out of the kitchen garbage can, as soon as I lifted the lid, and I am screaming "BEAR FIRE FIRE!!!" and the baby started crying and Lennon (my 14 yr old son) is grabbing the baby and yelling he is going to call 911, and Bear picks up the garbage and runs it outside onto the WOODEN deck and he and the boy start throwing pots of water on it, and the little one is crying, and finally they get the fire out, and we are OK, but the garbage can will never be the same. Speaking of the same, my boobs will never look like they did when I was 17 years old. we talk about this ALL the time on the WIF and the Parenting Forum, but I don't think most of the people on HipForums ever get over there. They hang out on Random Thoughts and post crap like I am doing now. For what, is THIS a good use of bandspace. I'll probably close this fucking thread in about a week, as it will be 6000 pages long and serve no purpose, but the pain meds are kicking in and I've got nothing better to do (except laundry and dishes, and maybe cleaning the living room, I wish the pain meds had a warning on them "Do not operate the vacuum cleaner, broom,toilet bowl brush or dust rag while under the influence of this medication. Damn, I could get me a damn maid, if that were the case, ike Rosanne Barr said, "I'll take pride in my housework, when Sears makes a vacuum cleaner I can ride on." Have you SEEN Rosanne lately, did she have CHEEK implants or something? She looks so weird. Not as weird as You Know Who, but still weird. Plastic surgery always makes people look weird. Are you still reading this? WHY? This is how I usually talk, that is why my husband has a "Maggie Filter" on his brain. Hahahahahahhhahhaaaa. Everybody is watching Lady and the Tramp, the Restored Version, in the other room. Bear bought if for Sage, but I saw it in like, 1964, so I'm probably going to see it 30000 times in the next week, so I'll just keep doing this, This is kind of theraputic. I wanted Bear to rent "Walk the Line" but he got to the DVD store at noon and they were all gone, so he bought Lay and the Tramp for the baby, and rented that movie about the giant plane where the little girl gets lost, with Jody Foster. He thought I didn't want to see it, becaues I have Phobias about kids getting kidnapped AND about airplanes, BUT, I like Jody Foster, so he didn't understand that if he HELD MY HAND during the movie (but no tit grabbing, he'll do it anyway) I can watch it. Is Jody a lesbian? It doesn'tmatter, but Bear has this thing about Lesbian chicks, like most guys, like he thinks he can "bring em back" or something, I've tried to explain to him that that isn't possible, and he doesn't sleep with other womyn anyway, but let him have his fantasy. Hell. I've got Johnny Depp (Sage was conceived during an afternoon viewing of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" I can't even imagine what would have happened if they kids weren't in the room when we say Pirates of the Carribiean. Did you know KEITH RICHARDS is going to play Depp's DAD in the next one? OMG, I'll be in heaven. I like that dude from "House" TV show, too, and Anthony Bourdain, and that Ace kid from American Idol, and, oh G-D, Brad Pitt and George Cloony. So let Bear have his Jody Foster, bringin her back to the fold fantasy. I think I'm done. Blessings. Maggie
I just got home from the grocery store after buying a FUCKING (smile...) SHITLOAD of groceries...I think I'm going to have to teach my dog to unload the car for me after I get groceries (she's only 10 lbs., think it will work??). I'm gonna take a nap now, a beautiful, weekend nap full of happy dreams and much needed rest...I haven't slept well the last few nights. Goodnight John-Boy, good night Mary Ellen, good night Teepi, Good night, Shamelss, good night Maggie, good night, Gate, good night, Thud, good night Earth Mother...and anyone else I might have missed...
Insert from The Secerts Of The Heart ( Kahlil Gibran) Where are you leading me Ho Enchanting Houri,and how long shall I follow you Upon this hispid road, planted with Thorns? How long shall our souls ascend And descend painfully on this twisted And rocky path? Like a child following his mother I am Following you, holding the extrean end of your garmet, forgetting my dreams And staring at your beauty, blinding my eyes under your spell to the procession of spectres hovering above me, and attracted to you by an inner force within me which I cannott deny. Halt for a moment and let me see your countenance: and look upon me for a moment: perhaps I will learn your hearts secrets through your strange eyes. Stop and rest, for I am weary, and my soul is trembling with fear upon this horrible trail. Halt, for we have reached that terrible crosseroads where DEath embraces Life. Ho Houri. listen to me! I was as free as the birds, probing the valleys and forests, and flying in the spacious sky. At eventide I rested upon the branches of the trees meditating the Temples and palaces in the City of the Colorful Clouds which the Sun builds in the Morning and destroys before twilight. I was like a thought, walking alone and at peace to the East and West of The Universe, rejoicing with the Beauty and the joy of Life, and inquiring into the magnificent mystery of Existence.
RULE NUMBER ONE Never Do This Alone The clandestinely pilfered instructions that I ripped from the Internet were plain and easy to read . . . rule number one: never, ever under any circumstances . . . absolutely never do this alone. There was great mortal danger in having your brain monkey-fucked by a pantheon of lesser gods and chemo-spirits while setting alone on the verge of infinity, or, at the least, crouching on the edge of abject oblivion. Darwin’s little apes were my quest…my grail…that state of mind where anything and everything is possible with equal uncertainty. Stupid people doing stupid things demand an audience, I thought. Great theater must be observed and tragedy celebrated by the survivors. Let ignorance be witnessed by all. Lets prey on the fools and morons of society. Count me in, so I sat there…alone. So there I was in this dungeon like hole for the fifth time in about three weeks trying to get this stuff to work so that I could get down to that Darwin monkey-fucked brain thing, besides, there really weren’t any telephone booths any more—not around here anyway, so this dark dingy cellar would have to do. I had a call that I desperately needed to make and I had forgotten how to dial the damned phone so I just kept getting a dial tone. “This is insanity…monkeys be damned and no ringing phones…where was the bright lights and doorway to infinity?” I shouted. It wasn’t like I wasn’t even trying…I as giving it everything I had but I just kept coming up empty. Thus far there had been zero effects from this stuff after four tries, nada and yet there I was no one else in sight but me. No one else going to be there for several hours . . . I was utterly alone; trying just one more time to rekindle something I had known in my youth. Something I had been told long ago...hello, operator. If the antique water heater standing precariously on two cinderblocks just to my left decided to malfunction . . . blow-up in a blaze of steam and blue flames, I would have instantly become another lonely statistic. Many hours would pass before my lifeless, lobster-seared body would be found. What would the paramedics think? Would there be an investigation? How long would it take before anyone even missed me? Would I really care as dead as I certainly would be? Why am I asking all of these stupid questions? I chuckled . . . I can handle it, besides this shit is legal. Nothing legal can really be worth a crap, right? Don’t do this alone my ass! Blow off those pussy-fucking rules. Rules are for fags and degenerates, not real men like me. I never once let a simple thing like common sense get in the way of my spirit and I sure as hell wasn’t going to fall prey to that simpleton’s hell right now. Push on. Keep moving and damn sure never give up. Wade into the alligator infested waters just to prove that it could be done. Male bravado is a wonderful thing to behold. The idea of a legal drug is a little misleading anyway. A lot of things are legal. Some things are legal to own . . . not legal to use. Buy a gun, legal as hell. Pop a cap in some schmuck on the street with the legal gun and everybody gets excited and wants to cause you problems or harm. Hell, they sold you the damned gun didn’t they? That’s what it’s for, right? The government has played all kinds of silly little fuck-the-mind games with a lot of different things just to keep common folk constantly fucked up. Little rules hidden in big agendas always trip up the little guy. Peyote is illegal to own and use, we all know that. Seems the little desert wonder has too much mescaline to have and to hold. San Pedro has the same spirit in almost the same abundance but is perfectly safe and sane to own. Just don’t eat the damned thing. LSD means a life long trip to jail, with forced sodomy with new and unusual lovers. Grow morning glories of the correct color and you grow your own acid. How many grandmas and old women have had yards full of mystic adventure and never stopped and smelled the roses? Strange world, but I digress. To begin with, I didn’t have very much material to work with, just cast off leaves from the live plants that I had bought, and damn few of those. I counted the used dregs as too precious to discard so I kept the semi-charred flakes left in the bottom of the pipe after each unsuccessful attempt at monkey-fucking my brain. I saved them back; mixed them in with the next run. But I had to wait. Wait a few days for several more leaves to fall just to mix it all up again with what ever was left from the last rogue endeavor. Then give it then another go. By the fifth time I had more char than fresh leaves. A black and hunters green mixture of sooty flakes and leaf parts that barely filled one corner of a greasy sandwich bag; just a thimble full of high hopes and wet dreams. I took the mystery mixture and the staff/pipe down the ancient sandstone stairs into the darkness. Little did I know that magic was in the air! The smoke on the previous outings had all of the soothing qualities of a flame thrower set on the highest possible setting and at full blazing force rammed down my throat. Not unpleasant if you are a masochist or an idiot, but way too fucking intense for my tastes. I am not fond of pain. I get no arousal from minor discomfort let alone this wire brush, blast furnace effect in my windpipe. The shit was just a little harsh. Every time I went down beneath my rickety old house into the dungeonesque cellar, I came back an half an hour later with nothing to show for the experience except for a flame seared throat and a hacking cough. Therefore, I vowed to modify the homemade pipe, change it to accommodate the burning acrid, smoke. So then each time I went down the stairs the newest version of the pipe with a longer stem went with me. Each time I got a little farther from the roaring hearth in the pipe bowl . . . more stem equals cooler smoke, right? Cool the damned thing down, I thought. This time the stem was almost two feet long, the bowel was big and my hopes were high. God loves determined fools. Ok, rule number two . . . hold the smoke in your convulsing, flame seared lungs for thirty seconds. That was just about as pleasant as setting your face on fire and letting it burn for half a minute before you screamed you lunges out. Thirty fucking seconds of hell! I took provisions and precautions. A huge quart jar of iced diet coke was at might right . . . to ease the “slight” discomfort. There was a white plastic lawn chair…not a fold up job but instead one of those cheap molded plastic pieces of shit that often dump the inhabitant out onto the ground. Pearly drops of condensation slid slowly down the side of the jar as I settled into the plastic lawn chair beneath the hanging, bare light bulb. Erie shadows danced along the jagged sandstone walls as the feeble light bulb rocked slowly to and fro on the wires that suspended it in the rafters above. Which settles rule number three . . . setting and mood are paramount to a successful trip? Pretty morbid setting and a cold, dank cellar does wonders for ones mood on a frigid February night. “Well,” I mumbled to no one. “Here goes nothing.” I expected very little by now except pain and disappointment. The excruciating pain I got right off. I drew the first puff of smoke in as the blue flame of the Bic lighter danced across the surface of the evil mixture. The arms-reach pipe bowl came to life with a wisp of smoke and a soft red glow in the half-light of the dank cellar. The burn came as expected. I held on, tears streaming, gulping down as much coke-a-cola as I could while still holding the smoke in and silently counting off the required thirty seconds. Jesus, this shit burns. Letting it out in one big spasm, I poured about a pint of cola down my seared throat in one big gulp. Rule number four: Try to get as many hits as possible in fewer than two minutes. Longer time frame adds nothing . . . but searing pain. That’s probably wonderful advice to a regular smoker with a caste iron throat or sage wisdom for someone with the pain threshold of Tex Cobb. The average guy might have a little problem with the whole “do it a lot, real quick” thing. I sure as hell did. With great trepidation I pulled the pipe stem to my lips, struck the Bic to life and inhaled another dose of eternal hell fire. I was to about fifteen on the long count and sipping a bit of pop down my now, oddly painless throat when I casually wondered if it would ever kick in. Then there it was . . . fast and sneaky. I thought I was finally there when the room quietly began to sparkle in electric reds and blues. Just on the edges of things, nothing in the centers of mass. A strange subtle tingle danced across my right side...do I hear the phone ringing? “Oh wait,” I thought; “just good old hyperventilation or maybe oxygen deprivation, something like that.” After all I had been holding my breath for how long? Then quick gulps of air between gulps of cola. That’s it . . . easy to explain. Yea, easy to explain! We all have a genetic sense of gravity. Gravity is down. We all know down and gravity with such intimacy that we never conceive of “not down.” We can find down in the dark, in our dreams and in our fantasies. We count on down always being right where we left it the last time we gave it a thought. We never, ever live even a second of life without the innate and permanent presence of down. Down is fundamental. Nothing that I have ever taken in my entire life has seriously interrupted the essence of down in any real or imagined way. Down stayed down like it should. Even wine swilling drunks know and respect down, they just reacted badly to it. But just then down let me down. Suddenly gravity moved away from the area of the floor between the cheeks of my ass and shifted to a spot somewhere to my left, slightly behind my left kidney. It didn’t stay there either. Gravity kind of wandered around back there---moved and shifted around like it was playing in little circles all by its self. Down became a relative term in a quickly irrelevant universe. My perception of down seemed to slowly rotate like a planet wide carnival ride. Down and to the left, down and to the left; now I knew what Jim Garrison was talking about. The Beagle floated into home port with a boat load of simians. The monkeys had arrived…they wanted brain. My body disappeared . . . not from view but from the constant sending and receiving of signals from my nerves. Somewhere very far away there was a throat that burned like hell, but that throat wasn’t mine and I wasn’t there with it anyway. Somewhere hands held a pipe, but those hands weren’t mine. Down and gravity kept fucking around behind “the me” that wasn’t there somehow. The red and blue sparkles were now gilded in shimmering golden light. Suddenly I knew that I had to get the hell out of that basement. A body stood up. That stranger’s pipe got spilled and a voice laughed about it. Something got picked up and looked at. The something ceased to be what it was and became a mass or tiny red and blue worms swimming in a shimmering sea of golden light. Very beautiful, very strange! A blue river ran through the thumbnail on a left hand that wasn’t mine, and then became denim like the jeans that were worn on someone’s legs. Someone’s entire hand became denim. More sparkles, lovely streamers of light! “Yep, I got to go,” A voice that came thru a burning, but not my throat, from somewhere else said. A hand turned out the light and the same voice said, “I’ll come back and get the rest of this shit later.” As the body started up the stairs, two hands opened the cellar door. One belonged to the body that wasn’t there. The other hand was a friendly spirit hand that helped with door because it knew that the body was too fucked to do it alone. Once outside I quickly discovered that the legs that weren’t mine didn’t work very well. With gravity and down frolicking around and with rubber, numb legs, progress toward the deck and then the house was slow. The body didn’t turn to make course adjustments. The world pivoted around to correct the misapplication of direction and bearing. I am surprised that no one else in the world noticed the shifting poles that night. I read no accounts of it at all in the paper the next day so I assumed that the effect had been all too subtle for common folks to perceive. Legs that were too limber and nearly useless tried to negotiate the steps up the deck. One, two . . . one again, now try two one more time. Ok, let’s see if three is there. No, not yet? Ok, three is back now. Oops, lost three and back on two. Who in the fuck put these stairs on sideways? Good, good back on three again, now four . . . almost there. There were just four fucking steps in a twisting turning world of light and constant leftward motion to achieve the goal. Down and to the left, down and to the left: fuck you Garrison. Gravity was still playing with down somewhere behind the limber-legged body. The body that belonged to no one got to the top of the steps somehow. My eyes were still mine, however. The eyes and the mind were synonymous. Together they saw the grain of the wood in the boards of the deck turn into a great circle. A friendly face from some long forgotten time or long forgotten place smiled a big smile in the twisted wood. The face winked knowingly before becoming wood once more. Two shadows played tag on the wall before freezing into place and transparent beings came up to my eyes/mind and peered deeply into the soul just to make sure that I was one of the “right sort”. They were pleased with what they saw but stayed none-the-less in case the body needed help. Then about the time the shadows played no more and the spirits slipped away into the night it was over. Gravity and down begrudgingly slipped back between the feet that became mine once more. The monkeys came and went so damn fast that I hardly got a chance to enjoy them. Reality came back from a very short coffee break and the “I” that I am meekly took over once again as I sat down the receiver. Sweet Jesus, what had I just done?
I dreamed about a narrow spiral staircase that I was descending. Each heart beat was a step. I could not stop ... and step after step I took, yet each was the very same. A long winding serpent ... it reached from the sky to earth, but there was no beginning and there was no end. It reached down so deep that there was no bottom. And as I descended, the staircase slowly started to turn round. Time came into being and worlds opened like pages in a book, unfolding and curling up in a moment that was none. I was the center. I was the beginning, and the end. I was all things yet I was nothing at all. I was the steps and the abyss which I crossed, and was its fiery depth. I was the helix, and the helix was me. I was sky and earth, darkness and light, and the dawn of all days ... I was the longing of soul. I was many, and we were one. Vibration ... wind, a song in the rain ... a dream ... ... stillness. Loving you all
Today was a bizarre day for me. I got off work and headed to town. Stopped for a quick prick at the doctor's office. No not the kind you dangle in your dungarees, just a blood test. As usual, blood too thick this time, too thin last time, never just right. So I'm off again and stop at the store. Needed a birthday card and a sympathy card. My soulmate's son turned 15 and I been around since he was 3. An acquaintance lost his 18 year old son in a car accident. So I get my son his fave pecan pie and the fixins for his fave crab dip. I venture on down the road and pick up a couple of subway type sandwiches from his fave place to eat. I sign the card, put some cash in it, give him a hug and birthday wishes then go back to the kitchen and fill out my sympathy card, add some cash as the young man had a girlfriend a baby and I'd rather give cash than flowers.I fix up the crab dip and dump the bottle of cocktail sauce on and happen to catch the label. Super hot n spicy! I just stared at it, apologized, said I had to get to the visitation and I'd get another bottle when I was done. So I go give hugs to my friend who lost his son. Then I stop and get a new bottle of sauce. Go back to the house n dip out the hot sauce and put the mild in. I give another hug cause I gotta get back to my place before the roads ice up. His Dad is at a bachelor celebration that will end early as everyone has to catch a 5 a.m. plane to Vegas. And now I'm home. What a day. A celebration of birth and a mourning of death. What was thin is now thick, what was hot is now mild. What seemed like chaos is now quiet and peaceful. I watched the beautiful orange sun set on my way home with the pink and blue clouds floating around it. How bizarre, how bizzarre, home at last, home at last!!
Wow, some of you guys really went all out ... I'm gonna say one thing. "The trick is to not worry about where you are going in the long term, so much as to take the opportunities that come. Get on the bus that arrives rather than the one you've been waiting for. You may end up in a much better place than where you had planned to go." Love and Light all my beautiful brothers and sisters.
i want my friend to show me his cock because he keeps bragging about how big it is and i don't believe him.
