Hawaiian Adventure: Geothermal Pools, Nuts and Deck Shots

This is the second part of an ongoing series of posts, regarding our trip to the Hawaiian islands.  Click here for the first part.  We took a 7 day cruise, during the last week of September and the first week of October of 2012.  Our first day and night, before the cruise, we stayed at the Marriott hotel in Honolulu.

The Pride of America cruisehip

And no, the last part of the title to this post should not be read as "nuts and dick shots."  I just want to clear that up, right away.  In fact, if you keep reading the post and checking out the pics, you might see puffy goat vaginae and exceedingly horny lesbian handmaidens, left alone on the farm so long, that they naturally held Goat Clitoris Licking contests to see who would win the BIG PRIZE.  The prize would usually be a fresh, slippery tongue, cut away from an annoying old cow, the human type or animal.

That's why you don't hear much from Rosie O' Donnell these days.

One of the most thrilling and educational parts of our cruise to the five Hawaiian islands of O'ahu, Maui, Hilo, Kona, and Kaua'i was the excursion in Hilo.

In Hilo, we chose the Hawaiian Explorer excursion.  We figured we could get the biggest bang for our buck because it actually included three events in one during the course of a six hour period.  First, our shuttle bus driver, who had a very dry sense of humor, took us to Pana`ewa Rainforest Zoo and Botanical Gardens, America's only rainforest zoo, in fact.

Trees at the Botanical Gardens, mostly destroyed by lava and encased in lava rock.  And you thought the fucked up tree  on the right was a Rock Giant's dick?  What the hell have you been smokin'?

While it's true you'll see over 100 varieties of palms, native and introduced plants, you'll also want to be careful not to accidentally go off the paved provided trails and fall down into a giant crack in the Earth.  There are signs, all around the area, that say you shouldn't do that.  They didn't say the giant cracks and holes led to Hell, exactly, but I did see Hitler, fuher of Germany's Third Reich, poke his head up from the biggest, seemingly bottomless opening, wiggling his nose a bit, while happily chewing the dismembered arm of Idi Amin.

Ol' Idi could be heard screaming, down below.

Hitler stopped, momentarily and said, "I can't wait for Mitt Romney to join our party in Hell.  I've never eaten a Mormon before.  I wonder if they're as tangy as Catholics."  After that, he went back down into the tremendous hole, spiraling downward like a screw being driven into wood.  I heard Idi scream again, seconds afterwards, shouting, "Now I got you sucka!"

Then I let go of the cool looking mushroom I had picked up and moved on.

All the passengers from the comfortable air conditioned bus were treated to scenes of all types of wild looking, beautiful flora and fauna.  The trees, that had been partially eaten away and covered by hardened lava were spectacular.  There were a lot of them.  A guide mentioned that volcanoes had erupted in the late 1700's and the lava had risen twelve feet high in the area where the zoo is located.  The lava ate away a lot of the trees and all of the plants, creating, as a result, deformed, rock-like encasing of trees and plants growing out of little lava rock mounds.

Don't fall into a crack in the earth!  You'll go to hell, get eaten by Hitler and strapped to a chair where you'll continuously view movies of Rosie O' Donnell licking a goat's clit.  Where they got those movies is a true mystery.  If you solve it, you may win the BIG PRIZE!

It was bizarre and fun at the zoo.  It wasn't too long of a walk and there were wooden shelters you could stop, sit and rest if you wanted.  But I couldn't.  Being the"nature boy" that I am, I was almost manic with delight at my surroundings. I was running around like a chicken with his head cut off, (because a lot of Hawaiian people don't like chickens, as I pointed out in the first part of this series, that very idea excites them more than seeing Rosie O' Donnell's angry red clit) and taking pictures of everything while my poor wife trailed along behind me, at times, trying to keep up.  I felt bad that I left her stranded, sometimes, so would hobble back to her and ask her if she was okay.

She didn't complain and let me go off like a kid in a candy shop, snapping pics of this flower or this tree or whatever.  I found that I would pay for it later during the excursion.

Do you like my groovy outfit?  Great combination of tops and bottoms, eh?  I can't explain the shirt but I was wearing the swim trunks because I knew we were going to go swimming and wading into a large pond that was heated up by a nearby volcano, later, during the excursion.

I think she was more impressed with the animals.  Although, one of the main reasons we went on this excursion, to see the White Bengal tiger, Namaste, couldn't be accomplished.  The tiger was in the animal infirmary and could not be shown.  He had broken his leg the week before.  Even so, the staff at the zoo, made a birthday sign and put it outside the fence of the area where he would have been seen if he was uninjured.  It was a let down because he was hurt and, also, because we didn't get to see him but I understood.  I thought it was nice of the staff to create this sign even though Namaste the Tiger probably couldn't read it.  Maybe they gave him a million dollar robotic leg for his birthday.

A lot of people, wishing Namaste well and so forth, signed this.  I'm not sure but I think all the red that you see below the tiger's neck is actually the blood of one of the zookeepers.  Happy birthday, Namaste! 

They had other animals and birds there, such as lemurs, parrots, Capauchin monkeys and more.  Like I said in the previous post, I took somewhere between 500 to 600 pictures during the entire 8 day trip and 14 movie clips (some as long as eight and a half minutes in duration).  You or really, anyone else could say I went a little overboard but I highly doubt we'll ever be able to go on another trip to Hawaii and I wanted to capture as many memories that I could.  Besides, I come from a family of amateur photographers.  My mom, at one time, had close to fifty photo albums.  They would be filled with our trips out west to Wyoming or south to Florida or west, again, to Arizona, to name only a few, not to mention everyone's birthdays and family gatherings.

Next, our laid back shuttle bus driver, who at one point joked that if anyone could pronounce his native Hawaiian name, correctly, would win a prize, took us to the Mauna Loa Nut Factory.

This is where my wife got her revenge for me leaving her behind on the trail, at times.

On a self-guided tour, you could walk up the steps of the processing plant to see how they get the nuts prepared for public consumption.  Usually, I just shave mine.  But be warned:  It is not for public or private consumption.  I'm too ticklish for that nonsense.

We left some product for the rest of the passengers on the shuttle bus to purchase and enjoy.  Yes, we both wore tie dye shirts that day.  Call us nuts if you want.

Our shuttle bus driver explained, on the way there, that the workers/gatherers of the nuts had to be careful when picking a good or bad nut, proceeding to de-shell it and put them in a container that was later loaded on a truck.

We passed Macadamia nut trees and huge areas of hardened lava rock, scattered about, along the narrow road.  As I pointed out before, most of the roads are partially made from hardened lava rock.  If you click on the link above, you can read the story of how the Macadamia nut tree actually originated in Australia and was introduced to Hawaii in 1882.

After my wife and I quickly toured the processing plant, we made a bee line to the big gift shop.

I said, "Let's go!  I hear they're giving out free samples and they have Macadamia nut and coconut flavored ice cream!"

This is where she bought out almost half the store.  We bought 6 different flavored Macadamia nuts, various bags of Hawaiian coffee, souvenirs and the ice cream- that we ate at the provided tables and chairs.  When we got up to the counter, I couldn't believe how much stuff we got and how much we spent.  But like I was saying before, and my wife looked at me and repeated, at that point, "We should get this stuff now because when do you think we'll ever get to Hawaii again."

Ah-Ha!  Revenge complete!

The highlight of the excursion for me, besides the zoo, was going to the Ahalanui Park.  There, you could wade and float about in this substantially sized, natural geothermal pool that was heated to a relaxing 90 degrees F. by a nearby volcano. Heat would come out of the hardened lava walls, from holes, surrounding the pond.  Most people visiting, got in.  I did, despite the signs that were posted on the path going toward the pool.

One sign cautioned about it not being advisable to go into the pond if you had any cuts on your body- due to the bacteria in the water possibly infecting you.  Another warned you about eels and flesh biting fish.  Another sign would warn you about deep cracks at the bottom of the pool.

I couldn't care less about any of it.  I was going in.  I felt like I was bursting with enthusiasm, eager for adventure.  To hell with any danger!

I slowly made my way into the pond.  There was only one metal handrail and a few lava rock stones you could use for steps at the entrance of it.  Or you could just jump in, cannonball style and let the bacteria, eels and tiny skin-biting fish have a go at you, all at once.  What fun!

The water was clear, warm and inviting.

There was an older guy, there, in his late sixties.  His name was Nova (like the show on the PBS station).  He stayed kinda close, at times, toward the entrance.  He was funny, always cracking jokes and he made friends with me, and eventually, my wife, who joined me later and discovered I wasn't being killed devoured, felt welcome and he sort of escorted us around.

We were surprised to find out Nova was from the original state where we lived.  He had lived in Hawaii the last twenty years.  I think he gave us preferential treatment because we were from his home state.  He guided us to the ledge of the wall where we could feel the heat coming from the hardened lava walls and it's many holes.  The tiny flesh biting fish were only an inch long and when they nibbled on ONLY your dead skin (mostly your heels), they sort of tickled you.  They didn't pose a danger and I've heard of spas in Japan using fish like this or these exact same fish to act as a natural exfoliant to remove dead skin cells.  In other words, they didn't matter to me or my wife.  Nova said if they started to tickle you too much, to just wave your arms around you and they would swim away for awhile before coming back to gently feed off of you.  :)

By the way, nobody saw any eels and Nova said that out of all the times he had visited the big geothermal pool, he had only seen a few of them but they didn't bother him or anyone else he knew about.  Maybe they were afraid of his beard.

This is Nova, an unofficial, friendly greeter of the geothermal pool we experienced.  I liked this guy.  He was humorous, informative and helped me go around this boulder in the pool without breaking open my knee cap on it, tearing open my flesh and possibly exposing myself to some kind of bacteria.  He had that old hippie look to him and he was one of the nicest guys I've ever met.

On the other end of the pool, you could see the ocean, quite visibly.  There was a boundary of lava rock wall, separating the ocean and the pond.  I took several pictures along this area.

After the Hilo island excursion, we were slightly exhausted by the time we made it back to our ship.  It was a long, rewarding day.  We rested a bit before eating a meal at the Aloha Cafe, on board the cruise ship.  You could eat, almost non-stop, at the buffet, if that were your desire.  You could eat until you bloat yourself to whale sized proportions if that's how you got your kicks.  Some people, I noticed, did that.

I was satisfied with usually eating just four meals a day and a couple of snacks you would take from the buffet back to your cabin.  lol.  Again, some folks like us, would take entire platefuls of cookies and fruit or whatever you had an appetite for, to munch on before going to bed or to eat with taking your medication.

That's how we did it, anyway.

Here's a few shots of the outside of the decks of the cruise ship:

Do you see the rainbow?  It's not because of the magical mushroom you may or may not have taken, I can assure you.  I loved this shot.

The guy standing in front of the gigantic chess board and pieces might be thinking he's hallucinating.  I'm not going to tell him differently.

The pool area, at night.  I was peepin' in at a couple at one of the hot tubs.  :)

That's all for now, folks.  Hope you're enjoying the tours, thus far.    

Hawaiian Adventure: Evening Sky and Oddities Found in Hawaii

Hey there, everyone!

Remember me?  Yeah, it's been awhile.  I was absent from the world of blogging because my wife and I were on a cruise in Hawaii from the 29th of September through October 6th.  I've been recuperating and getting things back in order ever since.

The first day and night was, during our adventure, September 28th, and all about flying for 10 hours on two different flights to Hawaii and staying at the Marriott Hotel in Honolulu.  Our first flight was from Cincinnati.  The flights going to Hawaii weren't as bad as I thought they were going to be.  I watched two and a half movies on the biggest plane that had seven seats going across each row (one of them was Prometheus- which I liked) while my wife read a book on Steven Tyler.  The 2nd plane, on our second flight we had to take, was in Utah.  The Salt Lake City airport is tiny compared to the airports in Honolulu and Cincinnati, where we joyously we ended up, with only a little turbulence, experienced, during the long flights.

The Marriott Hotel offered us some great views of Waikiki beach in Honolulu.  We stayed there our first day and night before boarding our cruise ship, Pride of America, the next day. Staying at this 4 star hotel on the 19th floor gave us a breather and a chance to look around Honolulu before we started our 7 day cruise, the next day.  There was an incredible 33 floors to this hotel.  It was pretty friggin' big but some buildings in Honolulu stood taller.

Honolulu is a very busy place with a lot to see.  Tattoo parlors, bars, malls, small mom and pop stores, crazy traffic, a melting pot of people, surfers carrying surfboards and a beach that makes you feel as if you're dreaming.  My wife and I loved it.

We took walks along Waikiki beach, enjoying the water and talking to people and being invigorated by the beautiful scenery.

We had an awesome, entertaining time on our cruise and on five different islands in Hawaii.  I will be doing a series of posts of our time spent in Hawaii and on our cruise ship.  Events and places I write about won't be in any particular order.  I'll just be talking about this or that.  I'll be mixing it up and going crazy with it.  Lol.

Note:  I spent my birthday in Hawaii, during our cruise and island time.  How cool and great is that for a gift?

I'd like to show you this poem.  I wrote this during our time spent at the airport, in Honolulu, before coming back home.  I was almost completely exhausted, beyond repair, when I wrote this, but I was inspired by a particular picture I took during our cruise.  I took it as I stood on our balcony, outside our stateroom cabin on the ship.  I felt at such magnificent peace.

This poem is called "Evening Sky"

EVENING SKY

Hello
Goodbye
I say to the evening sky
Tomorrow will come
With what it decides

Some will make what
Seems to be mistakes
While others will see and take lessons
That they might embrace

I see and feel the peace that affects anyone of us
The Hawaiian atmosphere offers locales, beauty and kind people
You can't help but feel blessed

Walk
Run
Or be still

Take in the nature
That surrounds you in joyous or troubled times
Embrace the peace that takes care of you
While you stand, walk, run or hide
For a time

Meanwhile, say hello and goodbye
To that unbiased night sky
Tomorrow still comes
As you let those thoughts fly

I took this shot while standing on the top deck of our cruise ship

Going over the mountains to land in Salt Lake City

Taken from our room at the Marriott hotel in Honolulu.  You can see the ocean and beach from where we stayed.

Waikiki beach, as evening comes

Oddity #1- While we were on one of the Hawaii islands, we found out that there were numerous locations where people were being overrun and annoyed by numerous random chickens and roosters and if you happened to run over one, you had to get out of your vehicle, pick up the chicken, barely alive or dead, to throw it away or eat it.  No joke.  We were told this by a native Hawaiian man.  It was a law or something.

Oddity #2- My wife and I, almost continuously, encountered an elderly couple, strangers, that actually lived a few small towns away from our own town, back home, in the mainland.  They were nice and we enjoyed talking to them.  We found it to be such a coincidence that we were staying at the same hotel, going on the same cruise and we had lived so close by to each other in our home state.  That's nearly 4,300 miles away.

Even on the last flight home, we bumped into them again.  His name was John and her name was Connie.  Sometimes we would help each other locate where we had to be or where we wanted to go on the island or on the cruise or at the hotel.  I think we gave each other a sense of comfort and a feeling of contentedness, knowing we were around, off and on, people that were from our home state.  They were likable, helpful, interesting, conversational neighbors during our entire adventure.

Oddity #3- We learned that a lot of their highways on the islands are made partially from lava rock that has been mixed with asphalt.  They make good use of any lava that erupts and pours from volcanoes to build roads, walls that separate the ocean at beaches or property of any kind.

The lava creates new land, in Hawaii, eventually, but it is also used to build roads and walls on many of the islands.

Oddity #4- The Hawaiian word, mahalo, means "thank you" in the English language.  a lot of people will say this word to you if they witness you doing something thoughtful or nice to them or for another reason.  If you mix up the letters of this word just a bit, you can get "malaho", which our native Hawaiian shuttle bus driver, said at one point, meant a male body part (a man's genitals).  I've tried looking this up on the internet, for the hell of it, but can't find it.  Maybe I don't have the exact spelling of it right but that's what he told us.

Probably just fucking around with the tourists that we all were- but it gave us a chuckle, anyway.  A lot of people laughed.  We found everyone, on any of the islands or on the cruise ship, itself, to be friendly.  We talked to people from all around the world.  There especially seemed to be a lot of folks from Australia, the UK or the continent of Asia.  We enjoyed conversing with them about almost anything and learning about their culture and what they were paying for gas for their cars these days.  :)

In conclusion, I don't know if the shuttle bus driver was yanking my 'malaho' or what- but he sternly warned us not to say that dirty word to anyone on the streets on any of the Hawaiian islands or you would get a dirty look.  And maybe even a punch to the nutsack or coochie.  He didn't say that last part but I thought I would, because I care about your safety if you should go to Hawaii for a visit.  :)

Say, "Mahalo, Kelly!"

I'll be continuing this series of blog posts about our time in Hawaii for a short time.  I have posted all the pictures I took (around 530 pics- yeah, I know- WOW, huh?) during our Hawaiian adventure on Facebook, if you're interested.  I will be posting, in the future, more Hawaiian pictures on this blog and on my photo blog, Pics for Kicks, when I have more time.

We're taking over this island.  If you wanna get past me, you're gonna have to kill me and eat my corpse, damn it!

I'll be checking out and commenting on your blogs when I get the time.  It seems my birthday of October 3rd is being celebrated, off and on, this month, with friends and family.  I'll also be spending time with the wife and I'm still trying to put things in order and working on getting things fixed that happened right before our trip. I couldn't do things before our trip because we were busy and financially strapped.  For one thing, we had to buy a new, used car.  The old car broke down for good.  That put a huge dent into our spending money for the trip.

Later, someone ran into the back of our newly purchased car two weeks later where my wife worked.  Nope... no one saw what happened and nope... there are no security cameras aimed at the employee parking lot (how convenient and stupid) and yes, our insurance company will pay for getting it worked on but we still have to pay a five hundred dollar deductible.  Please don't ask any questions about the damage to the "new" car.  I'd rather not talk about it.  It's a thorn in my side or in my mind, actually.

I have a lot of those, of course.  Most are caused by people.  God, I wish I was back in Hawaii, already.  :) I try to picture myself there, nowadays.

Well, guys, that's all I can stand to write- for now.  See ya later, folks!  More fun and craziness to come!

An Interview With Myself (Part One)

During the last post, regarding newly given awards and "amazing predictions", I said was going to skip over the rule about naming the seven most important events in my life or some shit like that.  Since I, ahead of time, knew I would be doing this bit, I figured why bother.  It would be repetitious and with this present post, possibly a two parter, if I get too chatty or start rambling on about this or that, then posting up those seven amazing moments would make it seem I've got the ego the size of Donald Trump's or Mitt Romney's own ego.  And who wants to see that?  Gosh, certainly not magnificent lil' ol' me.

As the title suggests, I will be interviewing myself, revealing things I may have mentioned before here, some things I've never revealed, but also adding some clarification to misconceptions.  I'll also be adding some traces of sardonic or dry humor that some individuals may or may not perceive, successfully, depending on how sharp of mind that being is.  Not that I'm putting anyone down for having the intelligence quotient well below a snail's turd- but there have been times when I've read the comments on my blog or ones I've read on other's blogs and I've found it somewhat disconcerting to realize there's more than a few, uh, how should I put this in polite terms... mmm... dumbasses out there?

But, being the helluva guy I am, I'm throwing caution to the wind and going on with the show.  I want to inform you, my friends, entertain you and gently coddle you like tiny baby birds in a wasp's nest, keeping you feeling all warm and secure, inside and out.  No shocking diatribes, sarcasm and crude humor found in this humble abode of mine, I can assure you.  I certainly wouldn't do that to get an individual's attention to make one simple, friggin' point.

Ahh... there I go again with the friendly, idle chit chat.  On with the interview:

Inquisitor Kelly:  What's with the clowns?  Everyone believes you have this vested interest with clowns because of the heading on your page.  It's loaded with repeated images of clowns.  Are you afraid of clowns?  Do they arouse you, in some undetermined way?  A lot of folks, on and off this blog, have brought this "highly interesting' subject up time and time again and have this deep desire to know what's up with that.

Honest Kelly: I really don't care one way or another about clowns, actually.  When I conferred with the co-designer of the web page's layout, a couple years ago, she suggested that I keep the image of the clown from my old layout to use with this layout.    Her daughter even drew me up a jazzy, nifty looking clown and I have kept it on the blog ever since.  Why clowns?  I agreed for the sake of keeping with the theme of the blog.  Not because I like clowns or want to, hopefully, fuck one so hard in the ass one day that it's bright red colon explodes- but because of practical reasons. And to be truthful, I think every human being is a clown, just at different levels.  Some are more obvious than others.   Because of the clown question, it was, at one point, tiresome to read the same question over and over about it.  I didn't give a shit enough to give a reason for it.  Even now, I just don't care.  In fact, knowing that this insignificant image on my page supposedly frightens people, as I've heard it does with some freaks.. I mean... people... amuses me a tiny bit.

That goes for the black background on my site.  Some people say it's too hard to read my words on a post I'll put up.  To them I say, I like the black background.  Black matches the sometimes dark themes I bring up during my rants and stories on my charming blog.  I won't change it for anyone or for any reason.  Not for more followers.  Not for more hits on my pages.  In truth, the opinions of most people mean less than nothing to me.  This is because I'm too old, too wise and have had enough experience to imbue myself with the knowledge that people basically want things their way because they are selfish and narrow-minded.  Not to mention uptight and stupid.  Thanks for asking. 

Inquisitor Kelly: What was your childhood like?  Were you a normal kid?  Or were you a rowdy, screaming monkey child or what?

Honest Kelly: I grew up poor.  I lived in an old, four room, white-paneled house on farm land.  The cistern we drank out of, we found out later on, had quite a few dead and half-dead albino frogs in the water.  We didn't have a shower.  We poured buckets of water over our heads and washed with that water (which I think was from a creek up the hill) in a hand made metal stall my dad had built.

I had a swing and a tire on an apple tree I played on.  I also had a black and white cat named Pepsi, a German Shepherd named Happy and I often talked to an old large apple tree, out of loneliness, boredom and because I had a fertile imagination.  Finally, 6 years later, my sister was born.  I played with her toys, rode bikes with her and played with my own collection of Hot Wheels cars.  Each one of my Hot Wheels cars had his or her own personal name and military rank.  The President was in love with the Secretary.  Sometimes, I made them kiss.  The apple tree, outside, often told me to kill the useless weeds in the yard (they were the enemy).  So that I did, with pure, delightful abandon and with a large stick I'd whip around, cutting them down like a warrior.

Down the road, we had neighbor kids that enjoyed peeing into each other's mouths, for sport and dry humping the wiener dog.  They locked me in their spider-filled, completely dark old basement once, for hours.  They would make Kool-Aid, on hot summer days and their mom would serve it to us kids in unwashed, food-encrusted glasses.  I'm surprised, to this day, I'm still alive.  I'm not kidding about any of those details and I've talked about them a couple times on this blog.  When I was six, I had no idea what they were doing to their dog.  Later, I put it together and figured it out.  All I knew was that it's little doggy eyes rolled to the back of it's head while it lay on the slab of concrete while one of the brothers cheered on the human kid fucking it.

I found out later that Happy, my dog, was a bad doggy to a vet.  Dad said he had ran off one day.  No explanation was given.  I was shocked and saddened when I was told that as a kid.  When I was 16, Dad told me that he had to "put Happy down" because Happy suddenly bit a big meaty chunk out of a vet's arm during one of Happy's regular vet appointments.  The vet told Dad Happy had to be put down or he would make sure Happy was euthanized.  The way Dad described it, it took several shots to his big furry canine head before Happy finally died.  Hearing this story did not make me happy.  But I understood the reasoning a little later.  Happy could have killed me, at some point and that's what they were afraid of.  During our play time together, though, he was a really friendly and honestly happy dog. 

On a happier note: I really enjoyed the walks mom and I would take down the old gravel road that was named after us because Dad had done so much work on it, himself.

Every week, it seemed, we would pay a visit or visits to my grandma and grandpa's farm down the old country lane.  I was mostly a very shy, quiet kid.  I played with my Aunt Kay.  I remember one particular time when we set white milk stools together, down on their sides on the floor, in a line and sat in the open spaces.  We pretended that we were riding in a train and made "choo- choo' noises.  Those were fun times.  My Aunt Kay, who was more of a sister to me, now and then, says that she used to bully me.  I don't know about that.  Maybe it's repressed memories.

She would play tricks on me, of course.  She was a little jealous of sweet lil ol' me because I was the "new baby",so to speak, of the family.  It had been her for awhile.  One time, she blindfolded me and told me to take a big bite out of this juicy apple she had in her hand.  So I did as she directed, as trusting and innocent as a kid I was.  But no, it was a tomato, not an apple.  I shouted, "Yuck!"  I quickly took off the blindfold.  When I saw the mushy pulp and seeds of the tomato I wanted to puke, preparing my taste buds, beforehand, for a sweet, juicy apple.  To this day, I won't eat a tomato.  They repulse me.  I'd rather lick a cow's taint than eat a fucking tomato.

Pretty visual, eh? 

Because I was shy, I often got bullied on the buses, as I grew up.  I didn't know you could be thought of as being "stuck up", too, for being quiet but I heard it whispered that, that was another reason I was bullied so horribly.  Four to five bigger kids would gang up on me and smash their hard back school books on the back of my head on the school buses.  A few would punch my face.  The school bus driver would watch the action, in his rear view mirror and do nothing.  He was famous for this.  Anytime there was a fight or bullying, he did nothing and reported nothing.  I was too ashamed to tell my parents about it so they more or less didn't know about it.

I made a few friends in grades 1-8 in parochial school.  They were a couple of "misfits", as well, because they would not be picked out for team sports and were quiet and whatever else kids (and for that matter, adults) would use- as an excuse to pick on them and I.

Speaking of bullies, that's a subject that really pisses me off on many levels.  With all this texting and facebooking gossip shit going on between kids, telling lies and being cruel, kids these days are really having a hellish time with bullying these days.  They sometimes end up killing themselves, in fact, from what you read in the paper and on the Internet.  It makes me sick.  I hear and see crap about gangs of girls kicking the shit out of other girls and I wonder what the hell kind of values are their parents teaching them. Even my niece is getting bullied by school girls, calling her names and filling up her locker full of tampons, of all things.  My sister didn't put up with it, of course.  She went to the principal and told him to get something done about it or else.  Because of her being pro-active, it has stopped.

These days, there are more and more school departments or people you can go to if you're on the receiving end of bullying, but more, clearly needs to be done about it.  Kids shouldn't be killing themselves and feeling like they're not worthy of the respect they should be given during the time they're in school or out of it.   

I read a lot of books when I was young.  I also wrote a lot of stories, mostly about my parakeets, cats and my dog.  A lot of vivid imagination and descriptive wording (not so much that it was shocking and it was never vulgar) went into them and I was told I was a very creative writer by my English teacher.  I liked the compliment as they were few and far between.  Unfortunately, I had a teacher who thought I had too vivid an imagination.  I never wrote anything perverted, if that's what you're wondering.  I was just a kid.  The teacher's name was Mrs. Patterson.  She was one of two or three teachers who wasn't a nun at the school by the old church- but she did fancy herself as an amateur psychologist.  She really thought she knew a lot about psychology.  The bitch even tried to suggest to my parents that there was something wrong with me.  My parents were young and didn't know any better (I was their first kid) so they tried to convince me there was something wrong with me, too and that I should seek counseling.  I think I was like ten years old at the time.  It was around this time, I found out I was half-deaf, due to all the ear infections I had as a kid.

I had a fit, cried quite a bit and it really caused me to question adults and their fucked up motives.  Before that, I was questioning the motives of adults because of all the violent news of the Vietnam war that would be shown on TV.  Even at the ripe old age of ten, I knew it was wrong and I thought, quite often, what kind of mess of beings have I been thrown into, without permission.  These fuckers are nuts.  Well, I didn't think in exactly those words I just used, but it close enough.  I did think adults and kids were really messed up- not just because they bullied me but because they seemed to be preoccupied by violence- on TV and everywhere else.

This is me, when I was a kid ( had blonde hair until I was six), plus another pic of mom and I, when I was older and we were fishing at the time: 

Later, I went to high school, joined Drama Class, wrote articles for the school newspaper, continued to write serious and humorous stories, acted in plays, had a poem published, went to a lot of parties, got drunk and fried and really started opening up to people and getting pretty wild, in general.  My personality changed quite a bit in high school.  I was the one who started trends without even meaning to do that.  In reality, just as I do today, I just do whatever I feel like doing- within reason.  I'm not a serial killer.  And I don't sodomize animals on Tuesdays.

I've never tried to be rebellious or a non-conformist type of person.  One friend suggested that I was trying to be that way on purpose once.  That made me laugh and I replied, "If you know anything about me, you know I'm honest about what I say and about my own actions- to a fault."  And he said, "Yeah... you're right," after thinking it over for a little while and recalling the years of our twenty year friendship.  I just feel like doing whatever fits for me.  The need, as it did when I was kid, to fit in, doesn't work for me.  I'm my own person.  To each person, I believe, they should go his or her own way.  To the rest of those who blindly follow without questioning, fuck 'em. 

Inquisitor Kelly:  Would you say adults who were bullies or even adults who weren't bullies when they were children, but are now, don't understand what effect they have on people?  And perhaps, in fact, don't give a shit about what effect they have on people? 


      

Honest Kelly:  I think there are many people or groups of people who fall under the category of "Bullydom."  It's funny you should ask me this, Kelly.  But maybe it isn't so odd, since you are, in fact, me.  I wanted to do a blog post on bullies for a long time now.  And now... look!  I finally made it here.  Looks like the subject is being intertwined within this interview, after all.  Ha ha ha.  I'm laughing to myself, literally, I suppose.

There are, indeed, adults who are bullies.  Sometimes they are parents who really shouldn't be breeding, having children and shouldn't be brainwashing them with their own distorted viewpoints, neither should there be bosses who abuse their hiring/firing, pay raising/lowering power, police officers that abuse their authority and corporate entities that squeeze money out of the middle class and the poor for their own profits and gains.

Corporations can be the worst of all evils and of all bullies because they try to control and bully us in our short, precious lives here on Earth by pushing us into corners we have no escape from.  Sometime, you might feel a temporary escape by taking an anti-depressant (which makes your misery profitable for big pharmaceutical companies) or by doing cocaine, drinking booze or worse (which makes it profitable for drug cartels and, in turn, for the DEA and law officers- if you do your research).

Let's face it!  If we didn't outlaw drugs, there would be a lot of space in those jails and prisons and then where would the states and the government make their money?  Hell, we might have to actually put it into schools to educate kids, pay teachers what they deserve, hire and keep firefighters, fix roads or some other practical purpose.  God forbid!

I see, in the future, tobacco products becoming completely illegal within the next twenty years.  This will be great news for organized crime and others.  Just like it was when they made weed illegal.  Read that entire story here.  It will either disgust you or shock you or both.  Or maybe you just don't care.  A lot of people don't care about their privacy and personal freedom, either.  Look around!  There are sheeple, everywhere!  People have always had the (un)natural "talent" of being able to ignore being shit on or becoming obedient slaves to a centuries old man made system. 

Btw, marijuana, being made illegal, was great news and carefully planned by folks like our government and rich, white assholes such as Harry J. Aslinger and William Randolph Hearst.  Both had vested interests, for their careers, to make weed out to be an addictive drug, capable of killing and driving one insane.  Nonsense!!!  

The silly 1930's flick, Reefer Madness, was nothing more than a propaganda film, intended to scare the public.  Instead, it's watched today as if it is an absurd comedy movie. Good ol' propaganda!  Kind of like drawing people into a war with a country, in the name of patriotism, that we have no business in being in- except to drum up business for rich white people in corporate hierarchies.  They have what we want!  Let's wage war on them!  We'll set up our democracy there, afterwards, to keep the profits rolling in.

Well gang, I'm getting pretty tired.  I have just enough energy to do a quick re-read of what I've written, take a quick piss and hit the bed sheets with my exquisite self.  I think I will continue the second part of this interview another time.  Hope you enjoyed it.  I have more to say, since I'm a rambler, but it will have to wait.

True Tales of Perfectly Normal Kelly

Disclaimer:  The following stories should be read as if they were written by someone completely sane, always politically correct and sensitive of others' feelings.  They, most importantly, were written by somebody with a sense of humor.  Scared?  Don't be!  I'm here to hold your hand as you take this special journey with me on my latest incidents of pure, wholesome normalcy.  I promise not to give you that special smile, while we walk, that says 'I won't bash your head in with this bronze statue of Zues fucking a dolphin while the dolphin is porking a young handjob-maiden', I have behind my back, when you turn head away, next.  You don't know how often you come across that common stylish item in those fancy antique stores, worldwide.  

 I farted.

But less importantly, I was taking my daily walk at the local park other day.  It was a beautiful day, full of sun and a plethora of blooming trees and there was no one there to possibly bother me.  Sure, I'm certainly a social butterfly that desperately needs adulation and continuous attention until I'm nauseous of the sticky slobbers of a googly-eyed stalker smooching on my ass because the stalker glorifies me... but sometimes, I just need some alone time.  Like about 80% of the time.

Actually... I don't know what these guys are and what they're thinking.  My  ambition to find out where they come from and so on has been replaced by sudden feelings of ambivalence.  Like, I don't know whether to bash this one dude's head in with a gargantuan frozen elephant turd or become inspired and secure, knowing that the human race will come together one day, not give a shit about material possessions and place honesty and understanding at the top of their priorities.   Again, I farted.

Note:  Googly-eyed fish will target and viciously attack your taint unless you have properly cleansed it to the point where it no longer carries the bouquet of aromas made up of shit, piss or pork.  Because, you know they say humans smell like pigs or whatever... especially while they're burning.  Look it up if you want to debate me about this most interesting of subjects while I busy myself with not being the least bit sarcastic.


Join Facebook!  See the attention craving, crack-like addicts who won't stop commenting about that same boring shit, day after day!  Watch people watch other people because they hear they are celebrities and that means something ridiculously important!  Ya ever see a dumbass follow a trend to be more popular?  Ya ever see a monkey picking a nit off another monkey in a zoo or while you're out on safari?  Ya ever witness the increasing lack of creativity and open mindedness of anyone or mass of "anyones?"  :)   People remind me of that stuff and more.  Think about it.  And yes, I already know why they, the monkeys, pick the nits.  But think about redundancy, for one thing.  Jesus Christ in a snack pudding offering soul-saving bargains!  Just think!

As I was taking my daily walk in the beautiful park, I cut a fart (go figure, huh?) and I squirt o' wee bit of shit in my underwear, of course.  I don't care.  As long as it's not running down my legs and causing a pond of chocolate delight around my feet, I continue onward to the bathroom.

I go in, clean the little bit of poop juice in my underwear, wipe the stuff from my asshole, place a small wad of toilet paper between the spots in the soiled fabric and my buttocks and when I get myself together again, shorts pulled up and so on, I wash my hands, thoroughly, go out the door and am automatically confronted with a large, six and a half foot tall guy, walking toward me, only a few feet away.  He's wearing about a 5X sized purple shirt, walking towards me like a zombie, arms stretched out, forward direction.

No kidding about any of this.

He makes sounds with his mouth.  I'm dazed by this sight, this giant monstrosity of flesh and insanity and my semi-severe anxiety disorder kicks in overdrive.  Momentarily, I cannot move.

It sounds like he's saying, "Arburgagog Goalpostical Blarrrrrrrgh!"  But I'm not sure.  I was frightened and in shock.  I just know he wasn't speaking English.  I also felt shit start to rumble in my colon again, threatening to erupt from ye ol' blow hole.  In other more sensitive wording. I figured I was about to have a repeat performance of the other fiasco I just endured.  This sudden attack, that would have probably scared the shit out of most anyone besides me, made my head spin, wondering what carnival freak show I suddenly happened upon.

 I saw a shirt this other day.  He might has well as worn this shirt:

      

I have since learned, by actually being curious enough to find out what Doma Arigato means, that one of it's meanings come from the language of the Japanese.  Domo Argato translates, in English as: Thank you very much. In his case, I suppose it could also mean "Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity of giving you a heart attack and instant bowel movement."

I quickly came to my senses, before he was a foot away and darted out the park bathroom door entrance.  While walking, quickly, on my pained feet and scrambling away as if I was being chased by Bigfoot's deranged uncle, I realized four things.  One, I was successful in commanding my buttocks to keep in any fecal matter.  Two, I think the boy/man was autistic and had a "solid wall of retard" for a body.  Shhh... My sensitivity and naturally instilled political correctness is leaking out again.  And three, about as most importantly, his caretaker or mother or whoever he was with, obviously, was a middle aged, unconcerned person who saw what occurred and sat on a bench seeming not to give a shit about anything.  That could be considered a mistake if the mentally-challenged behemoth was going towards somebody with violent tendencies who didn't scamper away, trying desperately to hold his gravy shits back.  Four, I hadn't taken my Valium that day, yet.

I'm thinking about making a custom made shirt for myself.  It will read:  I'm a sufferer from depression and anxiety disorders.  Please refrain from allowing your own craziness and your human keeping responsibilities "entities" (like mentally retarded youngsters and unbalanced young men and women) and whiny brats to come within a solid yard from me or I will freeze up and/or go on a killing spree.  Thanks!

That might be a little too long and I know most people generally have a low attention span.  I might just go with:  Fuck off!  You people bother me! 


I'm okay with stress when it's not of the sudden shocking kind.  For instance, the other night, my wife and I were riding home in a gusty-as-hell, lightening filled, bucket filling kind of thunderstorm the other night.  I was driving.  I knew I wouldn't panic because I could see, before getting back out onto the interstate highway for the 30 mile trek back home, it was going to be a doozy.  Instead, I calmly drove the truck home, hands firmly and courageously stable on the steering wheel and slowing moved around the ponds of water on the sides of the roads.

As long as I know what's coming, I'm alright.

Yesterday, we had another thunderstorm.  It knocked the electricity out for four hours.  I took a nap in the middle of the thunderstorm.  They had tornado "watches" for several neighboring counties on the TV before I took my nap.  Note:  Four weeks ago, we had a dozen tornadoes ravage our state and a couple nearby states.  I wrote a blog post about it.  When I got up, it was starting to get dark.  I lit a couple candles to see the toilet, furniture that I could stub my toe on and so on.  Then I put on some sweat pants and looked out on the balcony.  Even though it was getting dark, it was beginning to hail quarter sized hailstones, along with 60 mph wind gusts and rain.  And about an hour later the electricity came back on.

Quarter sized hail is nothing for me.  I lived during the "148 tornado and baseball-sized hail stone incident" in 1974.  There was a tornado in our back yard at one point.  I didn't have anxiety disorder back then so I quickly ran to the window, against my screaming parent's will, to check out the very real tornado.  A couple hours later, my younger sister and I started to go outside and collect hailstones like Easter eggs, from the grass, putting them in our Playmate coolers to later store them in the freezer.  Of course, finding no practical usage for them, we threw them back out on the ground after a week.

In hindsight, I should have kept them, went up the big tree in the yard and threw them at cars that passed by our house.  Oh well.

Even though it's fascinating to watch hail, quarter-sized or larger, come down for some people and even me, when I'm in the mood, I am more concerned about my vehicles.  I was hoping it wouldn't damage my truck this time.  Not only is that truck a "deer magnet", but I was thinking that the hailstones might dent the body or crack the glass.

Other than this stuff going on, including a non working AC unit in 87 degree weather and other smaller problems, things seem to be getting better for me.

That's all I got for now.  Have a great weekend!  I'm sure I'll stop by your blog, soon, to offer you a cordial comment full that's sure to be chock full of whimsy and wit.  Beats being chock full of shit, any day of the week, right?  Later!   

Behold My Power of Observation

Hello.  My name is Victor, the owner of the Human, Kelly.  The human slave (I lovingly refer to him)  gives me food, drink and shelter while I carefully observe his race who call themselves Human Beings.  I, on the other hand, have a more apt name for them.  They will always be DumbAsses to me- or any other living being, besides Humans, on this planet.

Hey Humans, while you're not polluting the planet, exploiting it's resources, killing each other and treating those who don't have much of this sad excuse of an outdated medium (you call money) for the exchange of goods with great disdain, as if they have less value than a pile of roach crap, could you do something useful- like helping each other out?  Ah, fuck it... just keep texting each other about the same old mundane crap.

You think the wilderness is full of terrors, viciousness and challenges for survival for us low level animals....  Try living within the Human Race.  They actually try to make it harder on themselves.  Increasingly so with every day and year that passes.  Here's a whip, Fucko!  Go flay yourself like you know you want it- real bad.  Do the whipping of your backs and minds with your head in the "sands of denial" or in the "sands of acknowledging what's wrong but you're going along with it because it's easier that way".  Yeah, that's the way you guys do it.

Then injure or destroy someone else.  Put on another good show.  Call it a war.  Kill people for gods and/or greed!

Your big old brains, that you're so impressed by, have conjured many new and exciting ways to hurt one another with each year.  Someone who is innocent- or not- can get a taste.  And by the way, it isn't any fun unless you're engaging in one or two bloody wars at the same time.  So I've seen from most of you.  And you think I am just lying around, sleeping, licking my crotch and chasing bugs.  Ah-Ha!  Can you not see the power in these glowing yellow eyes?

I've got some very predicatable news for you, Humans.  The rest of us seemingly less worthy animals- which you also treat with your varied obvious degrees of indifference, with the exception of a minority of you, can see you've been acting like imbeciles for so long, that now you flaunt it, flamboyantly, and accept stupidity from one another like it's the greatest sunset that's ever appeared out of God's Asshole.  (Newt, Romney, Santorum, Bachmann)  Those are just a few politician's names.  I haven't mentioned any names from any other categories, like from the wealthy elite,the indifferent majority, the spectacularly cruel... and so on.  Most of you Dumbasses, I find, in the end, are interchangeable.

I was reading what this man, Ralph Nader, said about your typical  Human greed for money among politicians, and when you get down to it, everyone else.  Literally or not, you Humans stick knives in each other's backs and allow pricks to rule over you while they tell the poor and the general public, in general, to go fuck themselves as you allow it to happen.  A good many have protested such behavior of the wealthy elite among you.  I have nothing but respect for them.

When you're done destroying what you can of the planet before you cause almost complete extinction of your own kind, I will cheerfully dine on your thigh as you quiver and blubber and begin to decay.  I will do it as you go through your death rattle- or even during your last words before taking your last breath.

My advice for you, as far as last words go, would go something like this-  "I did try to, at least, do a little something about all the corruption and did do one selfless act for another Human in my lifetime- or maybe not."  But hey,  if you did do something positive, Human, about the Human Condition or help someone or animal out, then BIG KUDOS goes to you.  I'd give you a hug but I'm too busy allowing Kelly to pet my coat of fur and then go into the kitchen for a treat made of ingredients that may be healthier than the slop they serve at these places DumbAsses, er, I mean, Humans, call fast food restaurants.  Maybe it's the equivalent.  Eh.  Who knows?  Where's my catnip?  This ranting is giving me a downer.  I need a buzz.

Speaking of slop, do you know that most Humans are ruled by their egos (slop) than their brains.  Imagine the mistakes that would be made by a race like that.  Yeah.  I mean...  How concerned are they with anything but themselves?  Catnip for thought.  

Like I said, there were/are a few of you who get it.  Here's one of them now.  His name was George Carlin. He wasn't just a extraordinarily funny Human.  He was an observer, who explained in detail, what was wrong with his race.  In the last six or seven years of life, especially, he painstakingly wrote books, put on comedy concerts and gave out words of wisdom that some got and some that didn't.  Pity to those who don't get it.  Pity to those that are close minded.

Here's your typical Human doing something more constructive than destroying his own home planet.  He's making a snot bubble.  Sure, he's no Rembrandt or Da Vinci but he may just be expressing a form of art  that no Humans have ever embraced before.  Humans are not exactly the open minded type when it comes to accepting change or differences in each other.  If you look closely, you can see that this guy has snot bubbles within snot bubbles.  I wish my hairballs looked that good.

I sincerely hope I'm inspiring you with the magic I'm creating out of my left nostril.

Here's another Human that gets it.  Bernie Sanders. Don't ya love it, when every so often, some Human speaks the truth?  Sometimes they have to have something dramatic happen to them during their lives or a sudden epiphany that helps them not be afraid to be open, honest and speak the truth without fear of repercussions from DumbAsses, er, I mean, Humans, of course.

Oh well.  Meanwhile, while you Humans go about your day, ignoring everything around you and perhaps creating chaos or being part of the problem, I'm just going to lay here and wait for the smoke to clear.  But, if I'm about to be wiped out, suddenly or I end up suffering an unpleasant existence because of your Human's Love for Self-Destructive Insanity, I can at least say I didn't have anything at all to do with it.

Here we see Humans sticking their faces up fake Humans' asses instead of up in their own, attempting to put the entire head in.  That way they can see no evil, hear no evil and be completely and blissfully ignorant of the world around them

It's Humans who are always at fault, in the end.  How many Human civilizations have passed, really, on this planet?  I wonder how many civilizations have passed due to their ignorance, cruelty and indifference.  I gotta say one thing for them...   Humans have that brilliant ability and natural ease where they can pass the responsibility of their negative actions on to whoever they deem fit or not accept it at all.  Yeah... Gee... I wonder what the end result of that attitude would be in the end?  Ah, well....

Have a great day, Humans!  Now pass me the catnip before your civilization's time is up!

Rat Pageant and World Naked Bike Rides

Frustrated subway workers, in New York, are attempting to draw attention to what they say is a rat infestation and are offering a free monthly transport pass to anybody who's got the guts and/or stomach to snap o a good pic of one of these furry, razor-sharped teethed, underground doll babies.

Hairy Potter.  He'll wave his furry wand if you want him to strike a seductive pose for the contest.  Just ask him nicely.
   

Though the furry darlings of the vermin community have been known to bite riders, in the past, present, and most likely, future, folks are encouraged to snap pictures of their favorite rat buddy. They can be sent to ratfreesubways.com.  When I visited the site, I saw that they were showing a video of a rat carrying off a pizza.  I witnessed one take off with a goat once.

What's next?

Somebody making out with a rat?

Did I see a little tongue action going on?    Golly.

Speaking of drawing attention, as mentioned above, I thought of something else.  People will, of course, express themselves in ways that draw attention, with the intention of desperately wanting that attention- like these gals here...

Actually, she's a lawyer.  Who knows how many cases she's won?

Lady, it gets hot down there.  Sometimes we just have to let our hairy, beet-red nutsacks hang out every so often.  As men, we understand you gals have your "lady days" with your menstrual periods and such- where you temporarily go insane with mood swings so severe, we're afraid to sleep beside you at night for fear you'll secretly throw out our old favorite cassette tapes or cut out our testicles and use them as earrings.   Just let us guys have our day in the shade or right out in the open and let us expose our  man apples, proudly, for all to see and gaze upon.  If we should draw attention to thine eye, don't throw darts at our wrinkled bags of jizz whiz.  Instead, applaud our display of dignity and pride with great gusto!     

Sometime people just want attention because it's a pathetic cry for help.  Help that perhaps only a therapist or close friend or mate can provide.  Sometimes it's acted out, in various ways, for petty shock value.  And then we have people who draw attention to themselves for a very worthy cause.  Take, for instance, World Naked Bike Rides.  In summary, World Naked Bike Riding events take place all around the world.  People will show their causes, ideas and concerns about pollution, the effects and greed of big oil corporations and more, by riding naked through city streets around the world.

Now that's the kind of attention draw I can get behind.  But not too closely behind.  Some good folks don't know their "behinds" stink because of poor sense of smell.  Who will stand up, with optional gas mask and dare to create a charity or cause for those folks?

Here are a few pics from London's World Naked Bike Ride:

It's good to know the British  police are there to cover the attendees for security reasons.  

Everyone is welcome to engage in the jaunty, admirable event.

Here, we see supporters, riders and spectators in San Francisco's World Naked Bike Ride event.

"Look, Bobby!  A man with wild tiger disguise, not doing a very good job of concealing he has been blessed with the  conscious of a true animal lover, supporter and eco-friendly gentleperson."

  Either that or he's just your average naked dude, out for a pleasant Sunday afternoon bicycle ride.  Who knows?  Just don't grab that chopstick, guys and gals!

And thus, we, or rather, I, alone, at Psycho Carnival, conclude our informative, somewhat jocular, tongue-in-buttcheek posting.  Have a wonderfully expressive day!  And why not ride a bike, take pictures of beautiful subway rats, afterwards, and then paint your naked, sagging ass blue for a change of pace?

It may just make your time on Earth just go that much smoother and stuff.  Later, friends!