Charles Peterson "knows" Things

     Charles Peterson "knew" many things.  For instance he "knew" that the secret evil organization that runs the Federal Reserve had president John F. Kennedy shot.  Of course he "knew" Oswald had not acted alone, I mean nobody believed the magic bullet theory least of all Earl Warren.  Charles also "knew" that the reason behind this was the argument over using the Federal Reserve note or the United States note, which was all but decided until Kennedy, then low and behold you pop him and our money has been made by the Fed ever since.  Charles also "knew" that there was something nefarious about putting fluoride in the water system.  He was pretty sure it was a way to make all Americans docile zombie'esque creatures that did nothing but consume and ignore the fact that they were being exploited.  He also "knew" that there was no possible way that a plane took down the twin towers.  Now, you might ask, was Charles Peterson an engineer?  Was he a chemist?  Was he a historian or journalist with some sort of vetted access to government documents?  No, he was none of these things which allowed him to "know" a great many things without the burden of unbiased evidential proof.  Most mere citizens don't want to believe that there is one giant secret satanic society that is responsible for all the worlds ills.  Charles Peterson didn't even need to believe it, he "knew" it.  Now, there have been a few naysayers that old Chuck has come up against.  To them he says snappy things like "I've done my research"  and "Ya know Hitler put fluoride in the water first" or "What about building 7, what about building 7" all of which usually just serve to exacerbate the competition long enough for them to just leave him alone to his theories.  You may ask what has all this "knowledge" really gotten Charles.  The answer is nothing.  Nothing but a fear of any food that is not organic, a fear of drinking watered, he must drink distilled, and a sense of superiority over his peers, who he refers to as zombies.  I think that perhaps it is best not to "know" things.   

A Holiday Story

     On December 23, 2013 at 10:30 pm a tall slender woman with blonde hair slowly walked into traffic on Main St.  The speed limit on Main St. is 25, so the first motorist that came upon her had plenty of time to stop.  The car only had one headlight burning, but the man driving the car still saw her clearly.  She wore brown boots, blue jeans, and a gray hooded sweatshirt, and it looked as if she was in her late 20’s or early 30’s.  When he stopped in front of her she stood there and spread her arms wide and stared.  Main St. was a one way street so it would not be hard for the driver to simply drive around her.  But the driver didn’t move immediately he sat there staring back.  After a moment he became worried that perhaps this woman was in trouble so he waited for her to move over to the driver side to ask him for help, but she didn’t.  She just stood there and closed her eyes.  This the driver thought to himself was strange, he pulled into the other lane and rolled his window down so that he could speak to her.  “Is there a problem?” said the motorist.  To which the woman replied “Um yes I want you to kill me.”  The motorist rolled up his window and drove away, he didn’t have time for the problems of stranger’s.  He was on his way somewhere.  Besides what could he do?  He had already spent a total of three and half minutes on this stranger, and he doubted if he could convince the woman that this was a life worth living in another three and a half.  So, he drove on into the night thoroughly bummed out.  “Fucking holidays.”  He thought. 

COCKTAIL NAPKIN POEMS

 NEEDLE STACK
A needle in a stack of needles
Start over begin again
Lather rinse
Absorb the new
Shake your ass
Scream the lyrics with a fist in the air
Blood boiling heart beating through concrete
Crush everything there is no stopping you

HARD WON BAR LAND
she brushes my arm
  Intent on having my attention
Must be the Pabst
  Or the Schnapps after shave
Maybe she’s in heat perhaps we should meet
  Before I can investigate she is gone
And now this asshole is slowly annexing my bar space
  My appeasement tactics are not working
They never do
  These fascists in their tight tees encroaching on my hard won bar land
I need breathing room

LEFT OF CENTER
Arrogance my only virtue
Narcissism my only vow
I sweat for work
I bleed for nothing
I eat to stuff it
I drink to snuff it
I don’t sleep
So, now it is time to adjourn
We only have the present
I will spend mine being the buffoon
The center of attention
Or at least slightly left of center

BLIP
Counting the hours
What hour was it when his breath last fogged the glass
The hot mist of time thick with shoulda, coulda, wouldas
Solid and substantial but waning
Ebbing, leaving us with every moment receding
A dawn with no dusk to follow
Or twilight eternal but in a wink it is gone
Time is folding up in front of me
A line on paper doubled over
Meaningless as names
Essential as the sun
Strong as water
Pure as snow
Then the sun sets early
Youthful star that seemed so bright yesterday, is gone today
It is not yesterday we only observe from the future looking back at our past sins
He was shot for four dollars and an Iphone, he was here three days
He lived a blip

WILLING VICTIMS
The object of my desire
Never objectified
For the crown she wears keeps her chin raised to the sky
My courtly love, my courtly lust rather
I am trapped, jailed, imprisoned within her eyes
My eyes know what my hands, my tongue, my whole body want
Dream of
Yearn for
I see her shoulders bend and spring back
A bird, no feathers just smooth creamy coffee skin
No bird, a cat, this lioness cranes he neck her eyes searching for prey
Is it my heart or my loins pounding
They are both willing victims
They have succomb
This woman
This goddess

Butting Heads and Investigation into the Male Dilemma, a play by Joseph Partington Coleburn

Butting Heads and Investigation into the Male Dilemma, a play by Joseph Partington Coleburn

Act one Scene One

The rocky mountainside stands immovable jutting angrily into the pale blue sky.  Storm clouds on the horizon look on these peaks, but the great crags react to nothing.  They are alone they were here first and they will be here after.  The sun shines down the angular rocks cast foreboding shadows along the Cliffside.  Even the sun, slowly receding upon the horizon, an inconstant in the face of these mammoths.  Looking closer there is a scuffling two horned animals kick up dust on the hill side, knocking rock loose, sending pebbles cascading down the slopes.  Their breath in the cold air is like the smoke from a dragon’s snout.  The beasts stare with unblinking black marble eyes.  One rears up and begins to gallop straight for the other.  The latter follows suit and in seconds these two horned beasts are locked in heated battle.  Grunts and the sounds of their horns butting against one another echo down this uninterested landscape.
 Soon, one horn is locked to another, each animal struggling to get free.  There is pushing and pulling and panting and wheezing.  And then a pause.  The two sets of black marble eyes forced inches apart.  They are stuck.
Beast #1:  Well this is just perfect…
Beast #2: (struggling)  Let go, come on let go!  This hurts!
Beast #1: (laughing but in pain) “Let Go?”  Let go with what dingus it’s not like I have opposable antlers.
Beast #2: (stops)  Well then what do we do?
Beast #1:  How should I know? I guess we will just have to wait for someone to come by…
Beast#2:  This sucks.  This is all your fault.
Beast#1:  My fault!  My fault!?!  YOU tried to steal her from ME.
Beast#2:  Listen Lenny I saw her first that means she is my mate.
Lenny:  (annoyed)  But Dave, I had already mounted her and you come along and push me off, what kind of friend does that?  I mean you mount it, ya mate it am I right?
Dave:  Lenny I known ya a long time, but all is fair in love and mating.  I mean I need to procreate as much as possible, think of the species.
Lenny:  What about me?  That is all I think about too.  I mean I need to spread my seed.
Dave: (sighs)  Ok, Ok, it doesn’t matter now, we just need to figure out how to get free.
Lenny:  Yeah, but how.
:::Pause:::
Lenny and Dave:  HELP!!!! HELP!! HELP!!!!

BLACK
To be continued…

LARRY

He was homeless
He was a vagrant
He was a drunkard
 But he was decent to me

He had his own language
 Cobweb castles in the mornin’ to warm up
 Before he hoofed it down to the library

He always had a schedule
 But nowhere to sleep
He couldn’t eat the chips that the church gave him
 ‘Cause they was too hard for his crumbling teeth

He had nicknames for his favorites
  Two Tone and Spotey Odey
He laughed easily

He just came by for water
 And a jaw wag
He made the squares feel uncomfortable
 I only saw him drunk once and I didn’t like it

He had a family outside the city just like mine
 One day he stopped stopping by
I never saw him again

 But I still wonder about Larry
Every time I walk the streets
 With nowhere to go and nothing to be
I wish I could’ve done more
 But all he ever wanted was water and a quick chat

I hope he is somewhere
 Still hoofing it
Watching out for tiggy and ooch
 And not trusting cats ‘cause they’ll snitch on you
The ghetto screamers blaring bass
  As he tries to find his way home
Wherever that is

Arnold Worthington Fishburne Never had a Pet and Never Wanted One

     Arnold W. Fishburne never had a pet and never wanted one.  He feared most things that couldn’t relay their feelings to him in words.  Animals, babies and trees, were all things that were so foreign to him that sometimes deep down in the recesses of his brain he thought they were out to get him.  Arnold knew, or had been taught, that thoughts like these were silly and should be dismissed as soon as they appeared.  Still there were times when he would catch an animal looking at him in a certain way, or hear a tree creek., and that same unnerving feeling would grip him. 
     One spring Arnold’s roommate Ashley decided to get a dog.  As much as Arnold wanted to protest he couldn’t  for the life of him think how.  Arnold W. Fishburne had learned at a young age that rocking the boat was not for civilized people and that most things were best dealt with by putting on the brave face, swallowing your pride, and shutting up.  The puppy was a pitbul hound mix and was the most adorable puppy Arnold had ever met.  Shaka was his name.  He whined, he destroyed things, and he made messes.  Arnold loved the dog but would never let anyone know it, not even Shaka.  He loved and feared it in equal measure.  Here was a thing that could rely on him, that he could mold into something.  Arnold decided that for the good of the dog and for his own safety to keep his distance.
     And so it went on like that for a while, he clearly was a part of the dog’s life, but he refused the responsibility out of fear.  One Saturday in the fall Arnold, Ashley, and Shaka drove out to a friends mountain retreat for a bonfire.  Arnold knew from experience that these bonfires were usually a nice drunken time where he could relax and just get outside his own head for one night.  Ashley knew that there would be other animals there, so he thought that bringing Shaka would be good for him.  As soon as they got there, the dog began frolicking with the other dogs and barking at the chickens and Arnold moseyed over to the giant bucket of beer.  After they had been there an hour or so Ashley asked Arnold what they were going to eat, they couldn’t continue this debauchery without first filling their bellies.  Some of the other party goers assuaged their fears with the promise of a rabbit stew that they were going to make.  So, knowing that a meal was impending,  Arnold W. Fishburne redoubled his efforts to forget the world and his worries, cracked a new beer, and passed around a bottle of liquor telling everyone to “DO WORK”. 
     A short time later Arnold found himself pleasantly drunk but impossibly starving.   He thought about this in a vague, fuzzy way as he entered the kitchen to see what was the status of the stew.  As he entered and saw friends still chopping up vegetables and the rabbit still braising he realized that this stew would not be ready for some time.  At this point Arnold began to panic.  He was drunk there was no stopping that now, and now he was starving and sweating and the whole world was going terribly wrong.  He tried making some jokes about how hungry he was to lighten the mood to no avail.  As if on cue, Shaka entered the kitchen and glared at him.  Did Shaka know that he was more vulnerable now than he had ever seen him?  Was this his chance to strike?  Arnold shook these thoughts away and said “Hey Buddy” and rubbed his ears.  Shaka just shook his head and scampered off leaving Arnold feeling rather lonely.  Arnold stood there in the kitchen deep within his own mind despising the dog and himself and the world, when he noticed the smell of fresh baked brownies.  He investigated and found that a tray of brownies had just been removed from the oven.  He was starving he needed to eat a brownie.  A beautiful hippie girl informed Arnold that they were magic.  He looked at her brown sparkling eyes and thought that they certainly smelled magical.  He was welcome to one she said, so Arnold throwing caution to the wind sliced the brownies and ate one.
     After eating seven brownies Arnold was no longer hungry but decided that he desperately needed to be outside where the air was.  He started to feel the blood in his brain and his vision began to curve in at the peripheral.  All at once space-time folded in on itself so that Arnold felt that he was in three separate times and spaces at once.  It was disorienting because in one of these space time pockets the sun was still up and he was still laughing and smiling with his friends by the bonfire.  The second pocket was dark and he was under a giant tarp to protect him from potential rain, there was a band playing music and the music was also somehow coming out of him and he was predicting the song even though he had never heard the band before.  He saw Ashley’s face here in the crowd and was comforted slightly to know that he was also quite out of his mind.  The third spot that Arnold W. Fishburne was stuck in was a wood pile and he was alone.  He laid there in the woodpile looking up at the stars and taking stock of what was happening to him.  If he could just get a grip on how drunk he was, he was positive he could handle, even enjoy the magic pulsing through his body.  He sat there thinking of things to sober him up and begging the Gods to make the rabbit stew be ready now.   Arnold looked down at his hands and began to cry.  His skin was melting in to the wood grain.  He was stuck, he was trapped, he was going to become part of the wood pile forever.  As he saw the skin of his right hand growing bark on it, his head spun and he vomited.  He was so glued to this stump that he couldn’t stand up so he just leaned behind the wood pile and regurgitated the demons that were plaguing him.  It was at this point that he realized he was in the midst of a severe bummer. 
     Shaka sauntered up to the wood pile to investigate.  He sniffed at Arnold then went over to lick up his pile of sick.  Arnold couldn’t handle this, he lost control and said GO ON GET OUT!!!!  The dog trotted off looking hurt. 
     The next morning Shaka was nowhere to be found.  Arnold still in a semi haze was convinced that he had magicked Shaka out of existence.  He sat there on the ride back to the city, a horrible guilt welling up inside of him seeing his roommates distress.  Arnold W. Fishburne knew that it was his fault his bad vibes that caused the dog to disappear.  Worse than the guilt was the feeling lurking deep inside that he had got what he wanted.  Arnold W. Fishburne had never had a pet and never wanted one.              

You're in the Bar You'll Go Far

Something dark and tasty of the beer variety
All things and plenty but don’t be hasty
Go slow
Let it ride
Drink it down
Sling back the goof juice ‘tis the season

The fryer went down
The fryer went down

Relax you got your Pabst
And the persistent beats drowning out the patron’s squabble
It’s a long story in a martini shaker
It’s a dry morning buzz and a kiss on the cheek
It’s the syncopated sweat beads
Tap Tapping on the small of her back
Bare bodies bouncing and bending
And you are spent but you don’t know where the floor went
There is no ceiling just endless black night sky

Tonight you’ll smile and stare and run your hands through your hair
She’ll be there and she’ll wonder where you came from and where you’re going
But she’ll know soon that you’re nowhere and nothing
For tonight you can feast one another and lie
Un-focus your eyes and look at your words
As they bleed and you regurgitate them in a meaningless scribble
Mr. Manager sits and lords over it all
We’re all bricked in to our tomb
The Pharaohs of old still begging to be remembered
You’re in the bar you’ll go far

Some of my Favourite Quotes

                                                                 Potent Quotables!!

“You can’t spell fatigue without Fat…”
                                                           …Agatha Flatbottom from The Dirt Diet

“It is always better to give than receive…especially when fists are involved.”
                                                                        …Kato Aktagawa, Ancient Japanese Proverb
“I put the Man in Mantra.”
                               …Painder Faize, from Meditating on Maditations

“Some days you’re the teenager, other days you’re the unwanted fetus.”
                                                                              …Arnold “The Beef” Fishburne, from Selected Letters

“I’m not above scheming if you need somebody to scheme.”
                                  …Some Girl At Crossroads, from a conversation about some girl who totally sucks

ARNOLD W. FISHBURNE

Arnold W. Fishburne awoke one morning and realized he would never be truly happy.  He laid in bed and stared up at his cracked ceiling and listened to the rain beat down on his roof.  Nothing made him happy, but nothing made him unhappy either.  Arnold W. Fishburne had never had a feeling.  He had never felt sad, mopey, or depressed.  He had never felt happy, confident, or joyful.  In fact the realization he just had didn’t really evoke any sort of feeling.  He wondered for a moment what the point of realizing things was if it wasn’t going to affect you in some way.  Then he realized that this was stupid to even think about since he didn’t really care.  Arnold W. Fishburne was a very boring character, he usually woke every day around the same time and began staring up at his ceiling without feeling anything.  He would get out of bed and not feel the jarring cold of the hardwood floor next to his bed.  He would stumble to the shower and not feel the scalding hot water burn the dead skin and the futility of a life without feeling away.  He wouldn’t feel cramped and claustrophobic as he tightened his tie.

Arnold W. Fishburne was a manager at a shipping company who had no feelings.  When he talked of safety, service, and production, he never got the same elation that the other managers did.  When his employees didn’t work hard he wasn’t mad.  When his superiors reprimanded him for not meeting expectations he felt no shame nor want to do better.  He didn’t feel the slow surging ache in his feet from the steel toed  boots he was required to wear while in the operations.  The sharp pain in his lower back that came every time he helped lift a heavy package, did not manage to jar him.  In fact, sometimes Arnold had trouble feeling the ground beneath his feet and thus was prone to falling down.  His clumsiness made him the subject of a lot of jokes, but even this didn’t hurt his feelings, because you can not hurt that which isn’t there.

One night, after a long day Arnold laid down on his bed, not because he felt tired, but because at night you lay down on your bed.  He laid awake staring at the ceiling and didn’t feel the extreme monotony of the day seeping out of him into his sheets.  Arnold could barely even feel the mattress beneath him.  Which was a good thing because it was quite lumpy.  Eventually sleep came as it does for us all.  And then the dream because all men dream.

Arnold was walking barefoot in tall extremely bright green grass.  He could feel twigs crunch as he walked along.  He could feel the warm wet breeze blowing his way from a nearby lake.  He could feel the sun hot on his neck and he could feel little droplets of sweat beading up on the ends of his hair.  HE COULD FEEL!!  He ran just to feel the air in his lungs and his heart pumping harder.  Arnold saw a tree and he hugged it.  The bark scraped his arms and he felt the immovable giant, a century old.  He kicked the tree with all his might and let out a Neanderthalic yulp.  Tears of joy streamed out of his eyes.  Arnold sat down at the base of the tree and smiled the widest smile that had ever been stretched across any face.

While Arnold sat there he noticed a little doe bending down near the lake to drink.  He ran to touch it.  It scampered away.  Arnold chased it but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t catch the doe.  Somehow he knew it held his salvation, he must touch it.  It looked at him with knowing eyes and stopped to lap up some rain water collected on a rock.  Arnold could barely breathe as he crept toward the strange woodland creature.  His hands outstretched he hears no sound but the deer’s gentle slurp.  He reached the deer his hand outstretched.  He touched her and felt how soft she was.  The deer leaned forward and stood on her front legs.  For a moment her hind legs were in the air.  And then she kicked back with both of them straight into Arnold W. Fishburne’s crotch.

The deer scampered away again.  Arnold felt a deep pain surging from his crotch, ground zero, the epicenter sending hot shockwaves of pain throughout his body.  Through sobs he screamed “I NO LONGER WANT TO FEEL!!!!!”.  Arnold W. Fishburne emptied his stomach as it contorted with a pain he had never felt.  His genitals throbbed and his heart felt as if it would burst.  Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore.  He woke.  He felt nothing.  The dream was over the numbness returned.  

HAPPY HOUR

HAPPY HOUR WEEKDAYS 3-6  
     Three happy hours in one bar.  Is the alcohol making me happy, or is it the prices?

RAIL HIGH BALLS  
     That sounds dangerously sexual.  But for $2 who wouldn't partake in this discounted sexy danger?

SOME EXCLUSIONS APPLY    
     I'd rather they didn't and save the Human Resources department a lot of trouble.

MONDAY - FRIDAY    
     Escape!

A touch and Breeze

A touch and a breeze
While the Indian summer makes lover’s sweat of us all
The night chills the dewdrop skin while naked shapes caress  in the moon shadow
To be young and gone and turned on and beautiful is living in twilight
Everything is immediate
Fleeting and inconstant
The fire engine red leaves fall and turn brown
Swept up and mulched
The lovers part making way for the cold
Blizzards rage and the lips pressed together are chapped
Dried up and bleeding
Then while the world is quiet and empty and white
There seems to be nothing else and they reach once again
And their lust melts the snow
Hearths and  hearts fogging up windows with their hot wet panting breath
But the wind becomes warm
Marigolds and daffodils bloom
He can’t remember which she liked and they drift apart on the warm breeze
Spring has sprung and the lovers know that another season is just round the bend
A touch and a breeze and it’s gone

Everyone Who Goes to Johnston Willis Hospital Dies

    I remember my mother’s face peering down at me.  My hair is matted down on my left side, and my nose is full of something that stings.  My throat is dry and my mouth feels crusty.  I am wet.  A hand is sliding down the left side of my face.  A furry moistened hand. 
“Joseph, Joseph, Joseph…” There are sobs.

    My eyelid is peeled back and a fire burns it.  Uniformed men are thumping around the tulip wallpaper.  Hands in my armpits tickle as I am lifted.  There is a sharp prick in my hand as a belt is tightening around my chest.

    “Hey honey?”  My moms voice… Where am I? Hospital.  A man in a white coat says that I had a… Grand Maul.  They are all staring at me but not talking to me.  Their eyes look sad.  I have a soar throat.  The other’s leave.  My mom and I look at each other.  There is a thin curtain next to the bed I am in.  My mom squeezes my hand.  “You had another seizure and you wouldn’t wake up.”  My face is hot and I feel different and alien and fragile.  My mom always  said that everyone who goes to Johnston willis hospital dies.  I look around.  My mom tells me I’ll be fine.  “Try to get some sleep.”

    My eyes open to a loud bang.  The doors at the end of the hall have burst open.  A black haired man in a white suit is strapped to a table with people all dressed in green rushing him in.  They push  the table up to a wall and pull a curtain around him.  I can just see silhouettes.  His head had a gash in it and the shoulders of his suit had turned pink.  I close my eyes again as things start to calm down.

    My eyes open my mom is standing up looking worried.  There are loud yells.  One of the nurses comes out from behind a curtain nearby with her hand over her face and blood gushing from her nose.   Doctors come running and grab her and rush her to a bed.  The pink and white suited man creeps out from behind the curtain blood drips from his mouth and he staggers as if drunk.  His pants around his ankles he turns to face me and my mother.  He stares at us and there is nothing behind those eyes. 
   
    My mom moves between him and me and puts her back to me.  I have to lean over to peer around my mom.  The man is stumbling towards us and grunting and hissing like an animal.  A nurse and two uniformed man walk up calmly and grab his arms.  He begins to struggle and he bites one of the uniformed men on the cheek tearing some flesh away.  “Fuck this fucker bit me.”  There are more screams from down the hall and the sound of people running.  A third uniformed man walks up and puts a shotgun to the head of the man in the white suit.  There is a loud bang and I blink my eyes and when they open again the mans head is gone, just smoke from the gun barrel and a pink mist flying through the air. 
   
    We’re running down the hall of the hospital, the emergency lights are blinking on and off.  And there are constant thuds on every door we pass from former patients, now something different.  Its me, my mom, two cops, and a nurse.  We left the guy with the cheek bite behind one of the cops said there was nothing we could do for him.  Something comes into view and the cop drops it before we can even make out if it is human or not.  My mom is crying, my feet are bear and I am in a hospital gown so I start to shiver from the cold. 
   
    One cop is dead or gone the other is bleeding from his arm.  We were swarmed by a bunch of them and began running back the way we came.  My mom falls and I stop to grab her but before I can they get her.  I have hold of her arm as they start to tear her apart there is blood everywhere but I still have her arm, then I realize that’s all I have and I drop it and run.  The nurse and I are all that’s left.

    We are hiding in one of the private rooms we have the hospital bed blocking the door.  She isn’t crying she keeps telling me it is going to be alright.  She asks “ why were you in here anyway”.  I told her I had a seizure and I wouldn’t wake up and she looks at me with sad eyes. 

The Tan Girl In the Bar

“Great minds think alike!” the man with the purple nose said through yellow teeth.  The tan girl raised her glass and gave a smile and a nod.  She sipped her drink gingerly and set it down on a soiled cocktail napkin.  Her hands shook as ripples of delight surged through her body.  Leonard the barkeep made the drinks stiff because that was the way his customers liked them.  The purple man began to mumble to no one in particular.  There were a few patrons at one end of the bar that looked out of place in their sport’s jackets and starched shirts.  The tan girl noticed them and adjusted her skirt and crossed her legs.  She was there to work after all.  One of the sport’s jackets met her eyes and winked.  The tan of her face wrinkled at the corner of her eyes and mouth as she gave them a smile.  The winker walked over to her and asked to buy her a drink.  The tan girl looked down at her full glass and said she was fine.  They began to talk business and she twirled her brown curls through her fingers.  The sports jacket laughed at her caustic humor, and he was hooked.  Now the moment was coming the stars were aligned.  The spider had a fly in her web and was ready to devour him.  The sports jacket began to sweat at his temples and his collar seemed too tight.  Her gaze was like a spot light shining down on him.  For a moment the whole world was silent waiting for this lioness to pounce.  And then she spoke saying: “Well Tom are you sure you prepared for everything.  I mean if something, God forbid, should happen to you, would your family be taken care of?  No one could ever have too much life insurance, ya know.  And I think I have just the policy for you.  It’s our platinum membership…”  She droned on knowing that she had her prey right where she wanted him.  The sport’s jacket stood there squirming in a vain attempt to get away from this tan goddess, nay devil.  The man with the purple nose burped and slid off his stool and stumbled towards the door shaking his head.  He shivered as he walked out into the cold night air, but as scared as he was of what he had just witnessed he took solace in the fact that he was a simple sort and would ne’er fall victim to shedevils like the tan girl in the bar.

Thoughts On Al Gores Greatest Invention

SEXUAL PREDATION:  At first glance you may think that the internet is the perfect medium for sexual harassment, sexual abuse, and molestation.  The impersonal anonymity of the internet does make it less likely for you to expose yourself for who you are, unless there is a web cam and then there are plenty of chances to expose one’s ….self.  The fact of the matter is that any sexual predator worth his salt knows that the interweb is quite possibly the worst place to find a victim.  Not to say that the internet is not full of victims we all know it is rife with plenty of un-expecting unassuming nerds who are just trying to meet a nice guy ya know.  When you commit a sex crime the last thing you want to leave is a DNA trail back to yourself luckily it is very hard to collect semen over wifi; however, the second to last thing you want to leave is a paper trail.  The only thing worse than a paper trail is a DIGITAL paper trail and what is the internet if not a BIG GIANT DIGITAL paper trail just waiting to get you on dateline (the cookies and free public exposure is not worth it).  So sleaze balls steer clear, head back to the public libraries and YMCA locker rooms like proper perverts and leave the internet predator free.

EMPLOYMENT:  Finding employment online is quite possibly the most depressing process one could go through.  It is a constant false hope tickler.  Just when you think you found a legitimate job, translating some Nigerian prince’s memoir, the carpet of stability is pulled right out from under you.  You had pause when they thought you, a non college grad with little work experience except for pizza hut, would be perfect to edit this man’s opus.  However, you know what color your parachute is so you decided to throw caution to the wind, and buy the electronic checks that they explained were necessary in order to convert the money they would pay you from gold krugerrands to crisp American dollars.  You almost had a job!!!  You emailed Grammy and told her everything was going to be ok.  Now you are out of work and poor.  So get out and try to get a job the old fashioned way.  Because your best case scenario online is you either end up with a job that you hate or stuck in a pyramid scheme.

DATING:  More power to all the people who have found their “soulmates” online.  The main issue with online dating is that you are never going to find anyone better than yourself on the internet.  If you have already resigned yourself to the internet you have to remember that everyone you are meeting has as well.  As far as I can tell there are a few different types of online daters.  #1 Lonely people who’s friends are all married: This is the most wholesome category and  I don’t have many jokes to make about them, they got it rough enough.  #2)  You have overworked professionals who think they have never had time to date, but secretly they have personality types that are so driven and ambitious that no one likes them.  Sure they are go getters and you may have more fun with them than you  had with anybody else.  The simple fact remains they will never be content to chill out on the couch with you and that makes them incapable of intimacy ( also no one thinks they are more of a catch than themselves).  #3) is a predominantly male category I like to call them Hook upers.  I have heard several stories of women meeting guys online dating them a few times, then as soon as bodily fluids are exchanged contact is severed.  Your best bet is to call some old friends and be slightly  more social than usual.  If those kinds of things are hard for you there are plenty of doctor prescribed things to lubricate your social muscles, also alcohol can help in moderation however too much alcohol will probably put you back to where you started.
SMOKE DANK!!!

NEWS:  You can’t trust anything on the internet to be news.  We all know that we love going to blogs where faux intellectuals spew out the news with the same virulent biases we have.  Its comforting like a warm blanket to know that there is another crackpot out there that thinks that universal healthcare is somehow going to destabilize the whole country and then the world.  And that the real residents of  Arizona would love to be stopped in suspicion of being an illegal alien because “WE WERE BORN HERE GAH DANGIT”.  And of course we all love to here that although the earth has been going through constant periods of climate change in the millions of years before humans existed that somehow in our short time we managed to fuck it up exponentially.  So, no matter whether you were excited when Anderson Cooper got punched in the head or mortified, lets face it you still don’t know shit about shit and neither does the internet.  BLOGS SUCK!!!

ORDERING PIZZA:  It is already extremely lazy that someone brings you food.  Until they can actually send the pizza to my email address I am abstaining. 


SHOPPING:  Look, I realize that our economy now depends on all you internet shoppers, I just think that some of us have gotten out of hand.  For instance you do not need a another Tee shirt with three puppies playing with the tag line mutts gone nuttZ.  Secondly, stop buying  things while drunk.  If you are half naked and smell like schlitz they wouldn’t let you in the store so treat the internet the same way and sleep it off.  You most likely will not want whatever it is in the morning. 

LAUNCHING YOUR MUSIC CAREER:  Nobody wants to hear it.

MAKING HILARIOUS VIDEOS:  This will never get you anywhere… Have you ever heard of “The lonely island” or “Derek Comedy”… yeah didn’t think so.

ATTEMPTING TO REPLACE REGIS:  Because that’s my job!!!!!
usage
PORN:  This is actually an appropriate use just don’t pay for it and delete your history often.

 

The Parabola of the Prodigal Sum and other math myths for the "arithmemystic"

The shepherd Hypotenuse had two sons.  The elder, who was called a^2, was obedient and good.  He tended his father’s flock with an acute sense of responsibility.  b^2, the lesser of the two, was a more obtuse boy he was often found leaning against the fence at an angle, looking out over the entire area of the farm, lost in thought.  Hypotenuse thought it just didn’t add up, he couldn’t fathom it, he had raised them both in equal measure why then were the boys’ attitudes so incongruous.  Why was there such a division?
    One day Hypotenuse went to b^2 and asked him why he was not more like his brother a^2.  Why did he not stay inside the perimeter of normal behavior? 
b^2 spoke saying, “Father I can’t begin to enumerate the varied, infinite, and unquantifiable answers to that question.” 
Then Hypotenuse said, “ Have you not a fraction of work ethic?”
To which the lesser son responded, “ Father I could never be equal to your expectations of me.  So, I must go and subtract myself from your company.”
    And so b^2 was taken away, leaving only a^2 behind to tend their father’s flock.  Five years passed and b^2 traveled at a speed of  ten miles per day. Now it just so happened that there was a train going approximately double his speed leaving Chicago at 9 am.  If b^2 was only carrying five pounds then how many fattened calves would be killed when he returns home?

THE BIBLE 2: A NEW NEW TESTAMENT!!!

Chapter 1; Verse 1:: 
Our story begins the way many others don’t with an end.  In fact THE END.  The end to all that was ever known or sought or thought or bought or sold or speculated upon.  The end to all that was conceived or concealed or revealed or congealed.  The end of all things,  the most important of which at least to this story, the end of all human life. 
    Some said it would end in fire, others said Ice.  Still others said we would Nuke each other to death.  Some said the world was warming up to fast, some said it was too chilly so you should put on your jacket.  A good many thought that the year 2000 would bring a cataclysmic event, at least financially although the smart money was on 2012.  But alas both bets were wrong.  And thus God really confused everybody when he simply popped his head out of his far off interstellar hut and said:
“SHUT THAT LIGHT OFF… Can’t a guy get some sleep around here?”  And there was no light.  No Light meant no life.  With this one sentence God uncreated all that he had created.  It took him a week the first time and he had been resting ever since.  This time it took him roughly 5 seconds. 
 To be continued…