This site is a testament to not only my life but to the insanity of society. Dive into Psycho Carnival and you'll find tragicomic personal stories, wild yet honest rants, a little depravity, videos and a buttload of other goodies.

This site also contains adult like humor and ideas that could make you think. Consider yourself warned!

Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Musings, Memories and The Final Curtain For Psycho Carnival

Weeeeeeeeeee!


Well gang,

As the title implies, this will be the last post for my blog of 6 years, Psycho Carnival.  I want to thank everyone who has continuously followed the blog in the past and present.  Even those who have checked in, time to time, I appreciate the support. Speaking of support, I want to thank good friends like Gary, Static, Lilpixi, Bazza, Dixie and so many others, that it would take me forever to mention here, who have supported me through the good, bad, wild and crazy times while I've created posts on the blog. I really appreciate all of you and those I haven't mentioned.  Hopefully, you'll know who I'm referring to because I've visited your great blogs in the past and present.  You can look at my blogroll for all others who have interacted with me on the Internet, on their blogs or elsewhere, too.

I've always been strangely attracted to odd stories and images.  This goes for my preference in people, as well.  For me, there is almost no more of a heinous crime than to be boring- whether it's in a blog, in a social network like Facebook or in real life.

I've seen a lot of blogs come and go on the Internet throughout my six years doing this.  I've seen some really good ones stop posting and it has made me sad to see them drop off the radar in blogland. I get attached to people I really like.  I'm that way with my offline friends, too. I think and I've read, too, where something dramatic will happen and they'll stop doing their blog(s) .  The reasons they stop posting vary, of course.  Could be a job that takes most of their time. Could be a death in the family.  Could be, like in my case, total burnout from blogging.  That's not to say I haven't enjoyed everyone's blogs that I've visited and commented on (or should I say rambled, endlessly, on?)  And that's not to say I haven't enjoyed posting on my own blog, either, in the past.  I'm just totally burned out on the whole blogging business.

Mine has always been a variety type blog.  A lot of fictional stories.  True stories.  Some humorous subjects here.  Some serious topics there.  And some, maybe most, really, are a mix of emotions and topics of anything you can imagine or stuff that is unimaginable for you.  One thing I've always been, however, is honest.  I don't put on a superficial facade when I write.  It has always been from the heart and I usually let you know when I'm just joking if I'm making something up. And I've always leaned more toward, in favor and comments, those who are similar, in some ways, to my own blog when it comes to variety, humor and honesty.

Some folks who fake it could use a shitload of  the ol' "facing reality" kind of therapy.  Yep.   But I won't rant about that for a change.  LOL.  


This is my 500th post, by the way.  A milestone.  I enjoyed the journey, which this blog has been for me.  I've also regarded this blog as being very therapeutic in letting me get things off my chest.

While being in the blog biz, I hope I've helped others with my past humorous, depressing, wise or somewhat inspiring true stories. That goes for when I've commented on your blogs, too.

I also hope you appreciate the following images. Some are political.  Some I found to be funny, for whatever reason.  Some you might not understand.  I"m kind of complicated that way.  LOL.  I'm certainly no Simple Jack.  Or am I?  :)






The last two I find particularly humorous because you see a lot of that sort of thing (dramatic bullshit and endless arguing) on the Internet, in general, and on some blogs I've visited.  I never could understand that type of unrewarding, trivial thinking on the parts of the players who participate in that stuff.  But, heck no, I won't rant about that.  I never rant. And I'm never sarcastic, either.  Hahaha.... and so on.

I trust you've all gotten most of what I've tried to express in the past and enjoyed whatever it was I presented in words and images.  It's been a privilege in getting to know you.  I've certainly enjoyed commenting back and forth and exchanging ideas, jokes and viewpoints.

Who knows?  Someday, I might blog again.  It just won't be here and it will be, if it happens in the future, in a different style, for certain.  I'll let you know if I return to the scene.

Also, I plan on writing a book (I've had this plot-line for one rattling around in my head for decades now) as soon as I catch up on books that I've had lying around, never read and fixing things around the place.  The book I plan on writing will be fictional and incorporate some serious, humorous and surprising elements (especially for those who have read my stuff here).

If you want to "friend me" on Facebook, Google+ or if you want email me, let me know.  I'll give you the information so we can remain in contact and continue to interact.  I'd very much like that.  My Facebook page is a lot like my blog.  You won't see many goofy, cutesy pics of kittens or some similar shit like that... that often.  Most of the time, it will be humorous pics I put on my timeline or some serious stuff.  It's a mix.

In closing, I'd just like to thank all the people who have visited, commented on my posts and interacted with me on the net for all these years.  I consider you my friends.  Remember that! If you need my support, a laugh or anything that is possible for me to give, I'm there for you.  Goodbye... for now.  Any comments you make in the comment section, I'll respond to ASAP. I'll be making one last visit to all of your blogs, as well.  Take care!

Aloha and mahalo! 

Monday, January 21, 2013

Crazy Joe's Internet Advice, Corny Jokes and More

Crazy Joe came up to me the other day, while I was throwing bricks against a brick wall in an alley. He nearly made me shit a brick when he tapped me on the shoulder, suddenly, from behind.  More importantly, though... Why do I throw bricks against bricks walls?  Well, because, you know, that's one of my favorite hobbies and it's really just as fulfilling as engaging in silly behavior on the InterNutz.  That latter of which seems to be the latest fad or sign of mental deficiency the days.  Confused?  So am I.

Speaking of which...

After pecking me on the shoulder, Crazy Joe said, "Man, some people are getting super loopy on the InterNutz these days?"

I said, after turning around and about to cave his forehead inward with a brick, "You scared me! I damn near smashed your fugly face in with this large brick in my hand."

I paused for a moment, realizing what he had just said before I was going to smash a brick into his skull.

Then I quickly asked, "What the hell are you talking about, Crazy Joe?"

Well, first he handed me a joke card and waited for a second while I read it.  It looked like this:



I laughed.  Crazy Joe laughed.  Then he said, "Shit like this freaks people out on the InterNutz.  Some people either do or don't get the humor of it, or they're extremely sensitive about certain language, get shitty about it or they're irate about the unimportant subject matter.  Doesn't make sense regarding the priorities in a normal person's life, really"

I stood back and replied, "Yeah, it's a loopy InterNutz world out there.  Some of them could use a brick to the head.  But you see all kinds.  Some are open minded, though.  I usually hang out with folks like that.  Kindred spirits, so to speak."

Then Crazy Joe gave me a typed document and said, "For kicks, I thought these up last night, after observing bad behavior on the InterNutz for a few hours."

At the top of the form was the title, CRAZY JOE'S INTERNET ADVICE

This is what it said:

* It's fucking impolite to verbally attack or call a specific person a negative name when you don't agree with him or her. If you don't agree with what they saying, just give your opinion on the subject or not- or ignore it, altogether and move on.  And life is too fucking short to act like children playing an " I Win/You lose" fucking type of game.  For fuck's sake! Fuckity fuck fuck!

* Do the world a favor. If you're on a social network site, stop telling your friends and family every petty detail of your life.  Throw in a funny image every fucking once in awhile, fuckers!  Break up the monotony of detailing your everyday routines to one and all.  Talk about anything you might find humorous!  Share the gift of laughter, fuckers! Or talk about something interesting, for a change!  You find that people just as open-minded as you are, are worth getting to know and enjoy interacting with, no matter what type of website you're spending time.   

* If you're too fucking overly sensitive to look at what you believe to be an offensive image, get thine ass off of whatever website or social networking page you're on and move thee fuck onward with your sensitive self.  Remember: It's A-Fucking-Okay if you don't care for the humor you happen to see but if you don't like what you see, your eyes can always look elsewhere.  

* Hey, don't start fights between friends or family while you're on one of those social networking sites, either!  If you've been given a couple dozen clues that you are prone to do that shit, then I highly advise you to take your nasty ass, trouble-making self to this one alley I know of, to get a free complimentary brick thrown at your fucking loopy head.  

* And please stop with the positive images with the light weight words that are supposedly uplifting and are supposedly "magical" in their ability that when you first lay your eyes on them and read them, you are, all of a sudden, a completely changed fucker for life.  Reality doesn't work that way.



I read the rest of what he had typed and while nodding my head, in agreement, I handed the advice list back to him and I said, "I agree with a lot of what you have to say here, Joe, but, as I've experienced in the past before, you can't change people, no matter how badly they need to change for the sake of harmony and tolerating others ."

Joe looked up at me and calmly replied, "But you can, sometimes, provoke them to open their minds and think.  And that's a start."

I said, "You may have a point there."

Crazy Joe said, "I believe I fucking do."

Then he smiled, noticing the grin on my face when he knew I got the joke of him repeatedly saying the word, "fuck" or "fucking" in every other sentence in his document or the present conversation to make a point that only the sharp minded would get.

I handed Crazy Joe a piece of paper that I had printed off my computer from a friend's email he sent me the other day.  I explained to Crazy Joe that my friend is really into corny jokes.  I said my friend knew there would be some on there that he knew would make me groan because they were moronic or silly.  But, I added, he was also nice enough to add a few jokes that he knew would give me a decent laugh, depending on how they were worded.

I asked Crazy Joe, "Do you think these corny jokes would freak certain people out?"

Crazy Joe looked at my piece of paper I had handed him and saw these jokes, along with an image down at the bottom.  Here they are:

What did the lamp say to the man?

Nothing.  A lamp is an inanimate object.

Two men walked into a bar.  The third one ducked.

What kind of shoes are made from banana skins?  

Slippers.

What kind of rooms have no walls?  

Mushrooms.

What happened to the boy who drank 8 cokes?

He burped 7-up.

Dave drowned.  So at the funeral, we got him a wreath in the shape of a life jacket.  Well, it's what he would have wanted.

A priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar.  The bartender looks up and asks, "What is this?"  Some kind of joke?"

What does it smell like to go down on an eighty year old woman?

Depends.    

A daughter asked her mother how to spell "penis."

The mother said, "You should have asked me last night.  It was at the tip of my tongue"

Q: How do you make a baby float on water?

A: Try taking your foot off his head.

I saw a woman wearing a sweat shirt with the word, "Guess," on it.  So I looked at her and asked, "Implants?"



Crazy Joe laughed and laughed, even after he finished reading the jokes.  I thought he was going to just die from sheer laughter.  To save him from the possibility of laughing himself, literally, to death, I suddenly threw a brick at his head.  I think I saved the man's life.  :)     

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Joe Cuts His Losses (Or Would That Be... His Leeches?)

I've never been one for making New Years' resolutions.  I don't believe you should make them.  Very few people are successful at meeting this big, grandiose goal that they've substantially hyped up in their heads, at times, that when the goal fails, they either, if they got any stamina of mind in their selves- they might get back up again to try make the goal happen or more often than not- they just quit trying.  If you don't have this super willpower and forward thinking frame of mind, it just isn't happening.  Then you feel like crap for awhile, maybe.

I've been successful at doing what I set out to do a number of times.  Quitting smoking was one of those things.  I might have one or two with a family member, once every six months, but really, it's no longer a habit or desire.  Every so often, when I see somebody with me, normally a family member smoking, I might have one.

In my defense, I don't buy cigs and I don't get to see these family members often.

Oh, for Christ sakes!  I'm going crazy with guilt. AAAAAHHHH!

Must be that dreaded Catholic upbringing.  That's what my friend, Steve, suggested about me once.  LOL.  He's Catholic, too and I think he might have fun with that, too.

I also don't go to church and I enjoy eating cereal while watching animal porn.  I think I saw "Kellogg's Corn Pops" coming out of a monkey penis, while watching a DVD, while it stuck it's dirty dingus in the nostril of a buffalo.  Oh, the shame!  Of course, the final result is a bunch of sticky tissues in your hand.  More shame.

I also don't like to see these fucking positive affirmation images all over the place on the net and in Facebook, in particular.  You can't solve your problems, instantaneously, or become joyful and content by seeing one of these things.  If I would ever feel like I've been cured of all or some of my problems or negative feelings by being a completely sold customer on whatever nilly willy images and words I see, I'd think myself to be a drooling moron with ticks and spiders in his pants.

Then I'd have a career in show business!  :)

Gosh, I feel better already!

Please, for the love of all that feel they must have pouty lips, get realistic and and come back to reality for a visit.  Everyone's insipid positive affirmation images on Facebook give me the runny shits.





But I was watching a news TV program, this morning and these two advisers, that had fields in psychology, were offering this advice about resolutions some people make every beginning of a new year:

1- Make your resolutions proceed in small steps.  For example, set your goal to be accomplished in two weeks.  If you get past the two week or two day or any other short maker of time, add more time to the resolution.

2- If you're overeating or overdoing anything, do what ever is giving you pleasure but do it in increasingly smaller increments.  For example, instead of eating a horse trough's worth of fatty barbecue ribs, today, trying eating a meal that can be fit on a plate and then continue decreasing the amount of food or changing over to something with lighter calories.  Then, go from there.

They said more but I can't remember the rest.  Maybe if you insert your genitals in a old wooden mouse trap and the bar comes down hard, with a loud crack, it will magically come to me.  I'm not asking for much, I believe.

Wait a minute...  Oh yeah... #3-  Forgive yourself if you fail with meeting a goal, regarding your resolution- but realize the bigger failure is to not try again.

Right now, I'm going to change the subject.  I'm boring you.  I can tell.  You're doing the droopy head thing you're doing. :)  Yep.

Here's a positive affirmation pic to pep you up:

I swear I don't know what a 'Mexican Microwave' is.  Is that anything like a monkey when he spurts Kellogg's Corn Pops from his penis???


Let's say I've had a conversation with a guy named Joe.  Joe is a guy who seems well adjusted and well meaning.  He has a great sense of humor.  And he's real.  Yes.  He is a real Joe.  His cup runneth over with Joe, even at this moment. Imagine that!

Let's say he's just really real.

We got together at a fast food joint and talked for an hour.  Joe's a friend that seems to listen.  And he's not very judgmental or an annoying constant advice giver that has a degree in making assumptions (unless it's asked for... the advice that is) unless he's talking about self-serving, wealthy political groups.  With these assholes, he's quite judgmental.

Joe said he has been getting so much frustration, verbal abuse and out of control anxiety from a certain relative for years. Ever since a certain tragedy, involving Joe's mother, is concerned, Joe's father's mental state has gotten, admittedly worse, in the last seven years, due to his Dementia and a series of possible mini strokes, but he also suffers from depression.  He waves away help with that last one, of course. All of this is unfortunate and for a long time, Joe, his sister and his cousin would do anything for him, almost.  Instead of seeking help or trying, just a little, to keep his verbally abusive and erratic behavior in check, Joe's father, he explained, just lets go at whoever is near him, unleashing all of his anger and bitterness at those closest to him.

He does it to complete strangers- anywhere.

Joe's father was leaving candles burning at the place for where Joe's mother and father were living, after his mother had passed.  He also left on, for hours, the oven and stove, lights in the rooms, electrical things one would turn off in an acceptable amount of time and more.

Btw, Joe also mentioned his father was finally put in an assisted living place and finally-FINALLY, AFTER YEARS HAD GONE BY- Joe's dad had his car keys taken away due to wrecking his car into someone.  He had wrecked into a guardrail a year before.  Luckily, the woman in the other car, that I mentioned and Joe's father weren't hurt in the incident but it was the final thing that got his driver's license taken away.  It wasn't the fact that five doctors said Joe's father shouldn't be driving.  It wasn't the fact that he went walking through a blizzard across the hills and valleys, alone, for a couple miles, to have a big mug of beer at a bar to wash down his many medications, either.  Any of this could have killed him and then there was more he wanted to say but I cut him off, at one point and I said, sprightly, "Always look on the bright side of life, dude."

Of course, that quick bit of advice picked him right on up.  Whoopee!

Now, Joe said, his father doesn't try to make real friends where he lives.  He blames the kids for everything. Talks about dying whenever he wants attention.  Talks about being betrayed.  This, Joe pointed out, wasn't oozing out of his Dad's pores just because he suffered from Dementia or mini strokes.  He had been verbally abusive, sometimes physically abusive, since Joe was a kid.  Now it was a hundred times worse, he noted.  He wasn't grateful for all the doctor visits we had to take him to or the visits where we would take him out to eat.  Just about anything wouldn't please him.  And Joe says, that sometimes, you just have to cut your emotional leeches.... or losses (if you can call them that). Especially when they make you stutter.

Joe stutters when he's in anxiety-induced situations or if he thinks about his father or grandmother too much.  Joe said his grandmother could suck the goodwill, happiness and patience out of you, too. He told me that, even though I could see that was obvious, from his pale, defeated appearance, when he spoke of his father or grandmother. And now, he said, his stuttering words come popping out of his mouth whenever he's in any kind of tense situation.  And don't get him started on his insane cat that eats paper, cardboard, meows like a demon and chases imaginary enemies.  Joe won't finish his grilled burrito.  He thought his new cat might be the devil, he jested and left that subject alone.  He stuttered a bit, though, and some wilted lettuce slipped out of his mouth.

He shook his head.  Years of trying to please and make negative people content had nearly drained him dry. Though, he said, often enough, that he had told his father about what his father was directly doing to him.  All that Joe's father knew was what was bothering himself.  He didn't ask about Joe's many maladies, recent test results or how things were going, in general, on his end.

I told him, "Yep.  When those people you are closest to, know what they're doing and show that they don't give a flying fuck about your good mental health, it's time to be guilt free and go forward.  Let the negative parasites dwell in their own muck.  You tell them, 'I need a nice big break from you, apathetic fucker.'

Then I told Joe I was kidding on that last part but it made him laugh, anyway.  Want to know a secret?  I was serious on that last bit.  :)  Joe badly needed some laughs.  Any kind of joy, actually, was what he was lacking. Other things were bothering him, too, he said, but he thought that as long as he had the will to push forward and not get stuck in the muck, he would be fine again.

Being stuck in the muck, physically or emotionally, really sucks.

Joe said he would like to think of the way his father used to be and reflect on that.  For a long time, he admired his father and respected him.  He said he still does, especially when he isn't around him these days, for the most part.  Funny how that works, I thought.  Or not.

Then he got a phone call, at the place we were eating.  Joe took out his cell phone and asked, "Yes?"

It turned to be his father, wishing him a happy new year, Joe later revealed and they had talked for a few minutes, without a verbal confrontation.  A small and pleasant miracle.  Joe was instilled with happiness once more.  Joe didn't stutter for the entire night.  Towards the end of the evening, he did say he was going to keep certain people away, at arm's length for his own well being, for the good of his own mental health. at least for a lengthy period of time.  He said, after all, he wasn't a complete or final quitter- on anyone or anything.  He advised his sister (and in a roundabout way, his cousin) to do the same when it came to his father and taking breaks from him or others.  He upsets them, too, but at different levels.

Joe pointed out that his anti-depressant medication, anti-anxiety medication and those wonderful, supposedly uplifting, stupid, fucking positive affirmation pics and words aren't miracle workers.  I nodded my head, in agreement and then replied, "You've got that right."

Joe suddenly stood up and shouted, "Happy New Year!" to everyone at the restaurant and in the blogging world and wished everyone a peaceful year, ahead.

I looked back and gave everyone the finger when Joe finished with his sickeningly sweet gesture of good will.  My New Year's resolution, this year, is to be really nicer to people.*

*wink


Just kidding.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!  Take care.

Monday, December 17, 2012

The Apocalyptic Holiday Parade

If you're unfamiliar with some of the characters that have been featured on this blog before or you just want to reacquaint yourself with them again to better understand the following heartwarming holiday story, just click on the following links and enjoy!

For another story about the mysterious Intenso, click here:

The Incident at St. Mary's

For stories regarding Asmodeus, click any of the following links:

Auditions For The Circus
Second Round of Auditions For The Circus
Asmodeus' Astounding Circus

For lovely adventures involving Toadie, click any of these links:

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"
Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"
Toadie in "First Love"
Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part One)
Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part Two)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (Part One)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (Part Two)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (The Final Chapter)

And now, the final story involving all of these wonderful, fairy tale like characters.  

Brandon and his family are at his house, enjoying video games, talking about the economy and pulling food from bags.  The family pet is also busy, in the corner of the living room, licking his pecker like a lollipop.

Brandon just came from the grocery store with his Dad, Mom and dog, Skipper.  Then he, while putting a jar of peanut butter on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, heard what he thought was a marching band, just down the street.  Curious as to why there would be one, especially on this day, around Christmastime,
the twenty one year old man went outside the door, turned and saw what was coming his way.  Behind what was coming his way, was a cloud.

This was no ordinary cloud.  The was unique.  It was a deep crimson red cloud that was raining blood from it.  Hot blood spattered the ground and street below, erupting from the cloud in wave after wave.  Steam rose up from the asphalt of the ground and soon, even from where Brandon stood, he saw the blood was eating away the street as if it were acid.  Even the ground beneath what was once road was eroding into nothingness, leaving a wide trough of burnt dirt.



This cloud crackled with a horrifying sound that Brandon thought was a raucous mix of laughter and thunder. It scared away almost all of the animals. Dismembered body parts rained down from this cloud.  Detached heads busted open on the eroding, steaming street.  Arms, legs, torsos followed.

Trumpets made an earsplitting noise in the air.  At the front of the parade, sat the demon, Asmodeus.  The demon was sitting on a throne being carried by men, writhing in agony.  Asmodeus' tongue flicked out of his mouth.  He began laughing.   Intenso was by his side, laughing, while the band played a warped tune that began to make people come out of their houses, screaming.  While screams of laughter and pain filled the air, Intenso saw neighbors staggering out of their houses.

Brandon could see the neighbors' faces then.

The neighbors watched, filled with terror, as some of the participants of the parade were wearing the blood and dead skin of other humans.  Others had simply painted their naked bodies with odd human expressions and symbolism.



Dressed in black, the mysterious Intenso twisted his wrist, suddenly, and through sheer mind control, made the neighbors tackle each other to the ground and fuck like wild dogs.  Afterwards, they forced tree limbs into each other's butt holes.  They both howled and bled, profusely.  They wouldn't stop until they had torn each others assholes apart and bled out, almost completely.

"Tree huggers," muttered Intenso.

A neighbor dog ran up to one of the fat naked corpses on the lawn.  Blood was forming in large puddles around him and his wife.  They had just gotten finished with reading the local paper and suddenly found themselves in the front of their houses, fucking each other with long tree limbs.  The husband was struggling to breathe.  Abruptly, a huge dog, named Pippy, sprinted toward the man and tore out a piece of the man's gaping butt.  The dog, under the spell of Intenso, then ran across the yard, growling, with a slimy chunk of the man's colon in his canine jaws.  The man watched the dog run away with a meaty bit part of his colon, screamed loudly and futilely, then shit himself in a funny sort of way, before breathing one last time.

Intenso skipped forward a bit and began to sang, gleefully...

"Oh, Susannah
Oh don't you cry for me
For I come from Alabama
With a banjo on my knee."

He then turned to the lesbian couple and twisted his wrist again.  "Think you could "munch some carpet" for me?"

One of the women shuddered, seeing what chaotic, violent acts he had made the other neighbors perform.  Still, one of them stepped forward, bravely and said, "You can go fuck yourself."

Intenso smiled and then replied, while twisting his wrist back again, "What you will do for me is going to give me such a hard on."

It wasn't long before the women, under the spell of the maniacal Intenso, stripped off their clothing and began to push each other to the ground.  The smaller one hit the taller of the two in the face, knocking her out.  She took out a small pocketknife and was about to carve up her lover before Intenso decided their deaths would be more humorous if he tried his next trick.  Intenso curled his finger, forcing his supernatural powers to overwhelm the woman with the knife with thoughts that were more sinister than the ones she had before.

Everyone who witnessed what happened with the women began retching, violently.  Skipper the dog, ran out of Brandon's house and enthusiastically chowed down on the steaming piles of vomit.



Towards the front of the parade were baton twirlers, swinging human femurs into the air above and catching them as they came back down.  Blood poured out of their sockets in their heads where they once had eyes.  Their nude, emaciated bodies contorted, every so often, repulsing everyone watching them.  Their ribs would sometimes rip through their thin flesh, with blood spilling down their bodies.  They no longer had the will or strength to scream.

A huge balloon animal was pulled along in the line of the parade.  Even those that were lying on the ground, suffering from torment, looked at the plastic object and chuckled.



People heard Intenso, skipping along, cheerfully singing...

"I had a dream the other night
When everything was still
I dreamed I saw Susannah
A-coming down the hill."

By this time, everyone was out of the neighborhood's houses and apartments, in awe, of course, of the evil, disgusting spectacle being played out in front of them.  When a few people tried running back into their dwellings or attempted using any of their electronic devices, they were instantly incinerated by the power of Asmodeus.

When one man was almost able to reach his cell phone, about to dial the emergency numbers, Asmodeus raised his butt cheek, from where he sat, cut a huge fart towards the man and burnt his victim's off of his shoulders.

Women in strange green clothing, sat on the shoulders of merry men, while the muscular men had deeply planted their hands, then arms in the women's vaginae.  The women, oddly enough, wouldn't scream and only smiled to the passerby.  Some even waved, as if they were on a normal parade float.  Their minds, obviously, had been taken away long ago.



Brandon screamed at the living nightmare all around him.  Body parts were everywhere.  People were torturing and raping each other.  Scenes, too horrific to describe, froze Brandon where he stood. At this point, the marching band stopped playing.

Asmodeus, the demon, raised his clawed hand, signing to all the rest who were involved in the parade, to halt at his command.  With his other clawed hand, he had been munching on a woman's detached boob.  Quickly, he tossed the rubbery nipple off to the side like a discarded, half-eaten gummy bear.  The demon stared at Brandon, angrily and soon the young man was feeling himself slowly catch on fire.

___________

Four blocks down the road, Toadie and Valerie had just gotten married.  After several years of being together, making love and going on several adventures, they cemented their relation by making their love official and on paper.  They came out of the little church, full of happiness, ready to begin their lives as husband and wife.

When the newlyweds looked down the road at the carnage and the macabre parade, the mentally challenged man shouted, "Toadie is hungry for wedding cake!"

Then he farted.

Valerie looked at him, lovingly and held his hand, proud of her new husband.

Asmodeus turned his attention toward Toadie and instantly, Brandon's body ceased catching on fire.  His parents came running up to their son and extinguished little flames on his shirt and pants with their jackets.

In less than a second, Asmodeus was staring down at Toadie, sneering at the apparent fool.

Toadie looked up and giggled at the smoldering red behemoth.

Asmodeus snapped his fingers, without warning and caused Valerie to bleed out of her ears and nose.  Streams of blood ran down her face as she cried out.

Toadie stopped giggling.

Toadie cocked his head to the side.  Intenso ran over to see what the hold up was about, regarding the parade.  He thought everyone was having a good time, so far.

Intenso looked at Toadie and the demon standing toward each other, shrugged and to break the tension, the man cloaked in black garments began to sing...

"Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O.
And on that farm he had some chickens, E-I-E-I-O.
With a..."

Intenso couldn't sing the rest of his verse because Toadie had quickly crushed the supernatural being's trachea and shattered his voice box with his right hand.  Intenso grabbed his pulverized throat with both hands, confused and unable to understand Toadie's surprising surge of strength.

Before Asmodeus could take any action, Toadie, with lightning speed, pierced Asmodeus' chest and pulled out the demon's black heart.  Asmodeus slumped to the ground.  Valerie, in that instant, stopped bleeding.

Skipper the dog ran up to Intenso and bit through his scrotum, causing Intenso to wail.  The dog shook his head, aggressively, clamping his jaws down on Intenso's nutsack.  Soon, Intenso's genitals were being escorted off the property by Skipper the dog.  The testes of the mysterious being slipped out of the dog's slobbering mouth and hit the ground.

The cloud behind the parade cleared up.  No more blood rained down.  No more body parts.  The sun came out and the street that was there once before began to reappear again.  People who had once died or were hurt, stood up, healthier than they were before the parade.

The stout, broad shouldered Toadie looked down at Asmodeus and said, "You're no different than any other tyrant.  You feed off of the fear of others.  You either secretly or not so secretly crave attention, fear and adulation from as many obedient people or sheep as you can gather.  If more folks like me took a stand and realized they had capabilities they didn't know they had before and were willing to stand up to pieces of shit like you, you wouldn't exist in the first place.  Love, courage and people using their minds for the greater good will ultimately defeat beings like you.  Oh... and one more thing."

Asmodeus was gasping for breath.  Toadie turned around, pulled down the pants of his tuxedo and farted directly into the demon's face.  Asmodeus coughed, choking on his own retched vomit.  The green, toxic gas ate the demon's flesh off of his face.  The demon's eyes bulged and melted away. Soon, the demon no longer existed in this realm.

Toadie threw the demon's heart high into the air.  Skipper caught it with his powerful jaws and burst the organ in his mouth.

Suddenly, those involved in the parade disappeared, completely.  There were no signs that anything had transpired during the last few hours.

Toadie looked at Brandon and said, "Nothing should be assumed.  That especially includes anything that breathes.  Strange, evil beings, such as the one you confronted, are different, in how they appear and the tricks they can pull off- but that is really the only difference between them and the puppet leaders and ruthless dictators of the world.  Sometimes, regretfully, you have to resort to violence as a last resort with these fuck wads or they will continue their reign of terror and their often successful campaign of fear-mongering."

After this was said, Toadie took Valerie up in his arms and took off in their white rented limo, toward the reception hall.  This would begin a new exciting chapter in their lives.  Together, in spirit and love, they would spend the rest of their lives, making each other as happy as possible.

At the reception hall, everyone drank bourbon, rum and tequila, singing and dancing.  Later, old friends would tell their same old favorite stories, smoked copious amounts of marijuana and had a terrific evening of fun and revelry.  It was an evening of celebration and also a time to reflect on what they could all do to improve themselves and the state of the world.

Everything, miraculously, had been set right again in the land.    

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Asmodeus' Astounding Circus (The Final Chapter)

Ah yes, long time, no see, everyone.  But I'm here now, for the moment, to delight and enthrall you all with the long overdue ending to a short series about a circus.  If you haven't read any of the installments or even if you need to re-read these fine, literary masterpieces once again to jog your memory on the storyline and characters...  Here are the following links to help you out in making even the slightest sense of past and present events and be entertained as all get out.  Woo hoo!

Auditions For The Circus

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

Ringmaster Gregario excitedly went up to the circus ticket booth and asked, "So how many tickets have we sold for the big show?"

There was a line of adults and kids, eagerly waiting to step inside the big circus tent and be seated.

Trixie, who had before been a bubbly, beautiful blonde college girl went through a transformation, of sorts, after the circus owner, Asmodeus, escorted her away after her audition, many months ago and took the twenty something year old back to his own private mansion.

Being a demon (a fairly horny one, at that), Asmodeus had mesmerized Trixie with his charm and evil influence to seduce the giddy blonde.  Soon, Trixie found herself taking off her clothes, revealing her perky breasts and shaven pussy.  The demon circus owner took Trixie by the hand and easily grabbed her with one  powerful arm and tossed her on the bed.  For three nights straight, they fucked without a break.  The experiences Trixie endured caused her to almost lose her mind, completely.

Answering Gregario's question, Trixie slowly looked up from where she sat and said, with slow deliberation and with menace in her tone, "The fuckers just keep coming to see the show."

Trixie giggled slightly, seeming to change in her mood, grabbing a big wad of cash and sales receipts from her cash drawer and thrust it up towards the ringmaster's face.

"See?" Trixie asked.

Gregario nodded approvingly at what he saw before Trixie. Without warning, Trixie viciously grabbed Asmodeus' most trusted assistant by the crotch of his black pants with her free hand.

"AHHH!" screamed Gregario, quickly backing away from the ticket booth and Trixie's grasp.

Several customers looked where the scream had come from.  This got the attention of a pack of red eyed wolves.  Asmodeus' personal pets looked up from the half eaten human skull they had been gnawing on and growled toward the attendees.  Gonza, the large muscle-bound Head of Security came out of the side of the tent and confronted the customers.

"We have a problem here?" asked Gonza, threateningly.

The customers shook their heads, showing they had no problems, but were still very obviously shaking with fear.

An hour later, everyone was allowed to go into Asmodeus' Astounding Circus and take their seats.

A troupe of clown midgets entered from a hidden side room, in a multi-colored vehicle, with a pentagram sign on every side of the car.  The car stopped in the center of the stage.  One of the car doors opened.  Soon, The infamous Blutarsky Brothers came tumbling out.  All of them had bulbous heads, had extreme toe fungus and were mentally impaired.  The crowd let out various sounds of surprise.

Ringmaster Gregario walked up to the center stage, in front of the family of disheveled clown midgets and cried out, into his microphone, "Ladies, gentleman and children of all ages, it gives me a special kind of thrill to present to you the most amazing acts you'll ever witness in your lifetimes!"






Gregario waved his hand and pointed to the clown midgets that had painted faces.  Some of them were crossing their eyes and shaking their heads.  One had a permanent smile on his face.  Luscious, the member of the group who had undergone a botched sex change surgery, courtesy of one of "her" brothers and his handy knife, in order to become a man, stepped out in front of his brothers.  Luscious had tiny breasts, thanks to hormone therapy and a couple of sewn upon hairless gopher butt cheeks, but the vagina of the clown midget was far from perfect.

Tension and anticipation filled the air.

Isa, the eldest member joined her son, Luscious, who was dressed in a small, sparkly pink tutu.

The old ringmaster handed Isa, the mother of the 7 performing midgets, the microphone.

Isa announced, "My name is Isa, mother of my Russian babies, the ones you may know as The Blutarsky Brothers.  Tonight, we will show you our talents and you will soon gaze upon us with wonder.  Watch and fill your ugly American hearts with joy!"

With that said, Gonza brought in a handcuffed and shackled blubbery man in a size XXXL sweatsuit.  He was sweating, profusely, and had a collection of bruises upon his face.  Gonza thrust the obese man on his hands and knees.

Ringmaster Gregorio took a flask of whiskey from his back pocket, downed a swig from it and put it back in his pocket before explaining into his microphone, "This man was found to be attempting to sneak into the circus tent without paying."

Gregorio tipped his big black top hat toward the man as the man groaned in pain.

Continuing, Gregorio said, "This man will be given something special for his efforts."

The fat guy whimpered as Isa and Luscious took their places.  Both clown midgets lay on their backs on either side of the trapped man who Gonza securely chained to a metal platform.  Luscious spread open her legs and pulled the bottom of her tutu off, slinging part of the costume to the side.  She had a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip.  Isa took off her polka-dotted, over-sized clown pants and spread her legs, in unison, with her son.  A few moments passed before Isa's legs rubbed furiously together, creating sparks of fire.  Luscious mimicked her mother's furious leg movements. Meanwhile, a fast moving stream of fire, much like a flamethrower, came shooting out of their cunts as their tiny legs furiously kicked up and down.

In awe, the crowd was spellbound and became perfectly silent as the gluttonous man's head began to catch afire.  He screamed in agony.  Gregorio, Gonza and the rest of the clown midgets laughed, heartily.  In only a few seconds, the man was totally engulfed in flames, shouting for mercy and receiving none.  Soon, his crispy corpse smoldered for a moment before crumpling into a stinking heap of ashen flesh.

Gonza and Gregorio shoveled the victims smoking remains in a nearby metal garbage vat.  What wasn't completely crispy would be fed to the hungry wolves, later.

Nervously, the crowd applauded, fearing what might happen if they did not show satisfaction of the clown midgets' amazing tricks.  One man, however, showed no fear and announced his displeasure.

The man, famous for his many quirky and comedic movie roles, stood up and said, "I don't think that was right."

Gregorio put down his shovel and picked up his microphone. Into his mike, Gregorio inquired, "And who might you be to think yourself capable of judging what's fair and what's not?"

The film actor stated, "Steve Buscemi, that's who."





Gonza quickly retrieved him from the stands.  Buscemi struggled, frantically, and groaned in protest, desperately trying to free himself of Gonza's mighty grip.

Buscemi was chained to the metal platform, begging to be released, promising to give them substantial amounts of money if they let him go.

A clown midget named Jeepo appeared, did a cartwheel in front of the actor and completed an admirable back-flip, flapping his arms like a bird, before coming down head first onto the metal platform and bashing his head in, making a clanging, crunching noise that could be heard from the stands.  A pool of blood gathered on the platform as Jeepo moaned.  One of his clown midget brothers, Trotsky, came out, pulled down his pants and scratched his taint before dragging his injured brother off the stage.




Ivan, another clown midget performer, came running out.  Stretching his arms outward, Ivan stood still and shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Ivan turned around and looked at the chained actor in the middle of the stage.  The clown midget slapped his face, for comic relief and made a tiny "O" with his mouth to appear as if he was surprised at the actor's predicament.

Without hesitation, Ivan pulled his gigantic pecker from his neon green clown pants and pointed it toward Buscemi.

Ringmaster Gregorio asked the audience, "So do ya think Steve is going to have to do some suckin'?"

The audience collectively gasped.  Buscemi's eyes grew wider than they ever had gotten during the filming of his past movies.

Abruptly, Ivan took a firm hold of his meat sword and quickly shot bullets from his pee hole.  Each bullet went through Steve Buscemi's head as if it were made of facial tissue.  Blood and fleshy bits flew everywhere.  In a matter of seconds, there was nothing sitting on the actor's shoulders but a deformed pulp of bloody mush and some bits of skull mixed in.

The wolves rushed in, eyes red and glowing, and ate most of the actor's body, tearing his corpse apart.

Trotsky and another brother, Dragoff, came running out with their tarp.  Some audience members chuckled at the sight of their little legs moving so quickly.  Both brothers threw the tarp on Buscemi's disgusting remains and ran back where they came from, doing the occasional cartwheel, along the way.  Everyone applauded their comical antics.  Trotsky raised his leg and cut a fart so loud and with such force, the back of his  little clown pants exploded.

Unable to resist the current spotlight, Dragoff came back to the center stage and stuck the wooden handle of a bloody shovel up his rectum and balanced himself on it, straight up from the surface.  The sharpened tip of the shovel was embedded into the ground, several inches deep.

Ivan ran out and blared toward the crowd, "Ta-da!" After saying this, the clown midget promptly pissed his pants.

At that point, though, Dragoff sunk downward upon the shovel handle and found himself impaled upon it. Waving his arms like a pinwheel, his arms seemed like they blurred, in motion, to the audience.  Suddenly, Dragoff's colon was busted open by the wooden handle.  It didn't help that Ivan took the opportunity to jump on his back, hoping to share the spotlight.  A moment went by before the handle went all the way through Dragoff's small body and exited out of his mouth before plunging through Ivan's right eye socket.  Both circus performers screamed and tumbled, smashing forward into the hard, unforgiving ground.

Teeth, blood, bits of exploded colon and gore spilled forth in rivers from where they lay, motionless.

A teenager cheered and texted to her friend the act she had just witnessed.  She texted:

OMG!  I JUST SAW TWO CLOWN MIDGETS DIE BEFORE MY EYES.  THEY WERE HILARIOUS!

One audience member clutched his chest, unsure how much more he could take.  His wife, sitting next to him, patted her husband on the back and said, reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, honey.  These people are really multi-talented."

Asmodeus, demon in disguise and the owner of the circus joined Trixie, arm in arm.  Both of them had just made an entrance and took center stage.  Asmodeus noticed the man who was clutching his heart and politely asked, shouting toward him, "Do you feel a pain in your chest, sir?"

The man shook a bit, sweating and then said, "I'll be... fine."

With that, Trixie pulled her arm slowly away from Asmodeus' arm.  Like a frightening wraith, the once pretty, buxom blonde traveled up the bleachers and stood in front of the man who believed that he was about to have a heart attack.

Trixie curled her finger, slowly and beguilingly,until the man felt he should move his face closer to the pale woman's figure.  She was whispering something under her breath.  The man's wife said, "Go ahead, Sweety Pie," she coaxed, "The lady wants to probably show you a neat trick."





The man shuddered and nervously asked, "Are you a magician?"


Trixie lunged forward and stuck her forked tongue deep into the man's mouth, giving him a french kiss from hell.  Despite his extreme fear, the man achieved a sizable erection.  Trixie's long, snake-like tongue roamed around the inside of the man's trembling mouth.

Asmodeus suddenly ran up to the man, the wife and Trixie and then declared, "You're openly flirting with my woman!  How dare thee!"

Horns sprouted from Asmodeus' head and he quickly transformed into his real identity. The frightening form of a demon stood before the aroused husband.  Asmodeus' eyes glowed, red and fiery.  The demon circus owner clutched the man's neck and thrust upward, popping the victim's head off from his body like the cork of a champaign bottle.

The head bounced from one bleacher seat onto the next until it finally plopped in a young woman's nachos and cheese.  She was sitting in the front row, way down below.  Nachos and cheese flew everywhere.  Melted cheese and human blood splattered against her shirt.  Instead of wondering about or doing anything about the mess or the decapitated head, she immediately took an electronic device from her handbag and texted her friend about how a human head landed, suddenly, in her nachos and cheese and how hard it would be to get the stains out of her shirt.

Meanwhile, Asmodeus was still enraged about Trixie's transgression against him.  Instead of taking his anger out on her, however, he killed the man who had recently had a forked tongue dive into his mouth.   Asmodeus' big red arms steamed.  The arms of the demon rose above his head and the sides of the tent began to catch on fire.  Everyone screamed, panicked and attempted to escape.

Suddenly the wolves with red glowing eyes and bared fangs came pouring into the tent again and began dispatching each circus attendee, who made it to the floor, with joyful and hungry abandon.  Flesh, tattered clothes, phone gadgets, and lakes of blood could be found everywhere inside the tent.

Very few people got out alive that day and Asmodeus' Astounding Circus closed down for several months, disappearing without a trace, until it suddenly sprung up again in jolly old England.

Needless to say, the circus proved to be more popular than the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Summer Olympics being held in London, combined.

Asmodeus and Trixie are married now in unholy matrimony.  And Trixie is constantly having to remind Asmodeus, every night, to take out the garbage.  Gosh!

But that's another story.  

Monday, May 7, 2012

Cool Air Has Inspired and Enthralled

The taint is dry.  My brow is sweat-free.  I can actually walk around in something besides my Cousin Eddie outfits.


Happy to report:  The main AC unit has been officially repaired and installed in the wall.  Before that, the temperatures ran around 80 degrees F. in the apartment.  When the area around us wasn't getting pounded by thunderstorms and 40-60 mph wind gusts and hailstones, the temperatures rose to record numbers this time of year.  Not even summer yet and it easily would get up to 85 degrees outside.  Most of the time, I walked around in my underwear or boxers and a pair of sandals or black slippers.  Nothing else.  My wife warned me not to go outside, saying that I might get raped in my seductive get up.  Somehow, I didn't believe her.

Watch Cousin Eddie, in action, below, in National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation.  This is likely my least favorite "Vacation" movie of the series but it had it's moments. Methinks Cousin Eddie may suffer some anxiety disorder, at times.  I can't fault him for being a moron, though.  He's the entertaining kind of moron.  God puts 'em on Earth for our entertainment, I think.

Beats being around a boring moron- one like most of us encounter each day, on several occasions. This clip below is not the "shitter was full" scene of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation- but I like this scene.  Everyone and their butt mole has got that one memorized and it has been shown to death.  Hell, it's tradition for us to watch the Christmas one each year.  I still get a boner when the girl in the red bathing suit is on the diving board of the fantasy pool.  My wife ruins my mood by saying that when she flips her suit up in the air with her foot, she is cutting a pussy fart at the same time.



I also slap myself on my head to recall things.

Now I can come into this room, play games, make witty as heck comments on blogs and entertain myself by spouting off words of wisdom.  By the way, I saw the mentally challenged man again at the park.  He was still mumbling, frequently waving his arms up and down and made quacking noises.  He paced back and forth, every so often shouting, "Gimbiddy Goobey Blaaarghh!"

The mother or caretaker of this person was looking at the picnic table she was sitting at, perhaps thinking of a creamy fudge bar or slitting her own throat.  I know it's hard for people to take care of people when they're mentally challenged.  I feel for them as much or more than the mentally retarded folks they take care of- they're like the unspoken heroes and people don't say enough good about them.

At least, he, the dude I was just yakkin' about, wasn't like this other asshole in the park.  This old guy, The Curmudgeon, I call him. He was all stretched out underneath a shelter, sweating profusely, red in the face, swiggin' out of his bottle of whatever like he was thirsty or something.  :)  Anyway, he, of course, makes one of his negative remarks about how the weather is.  He doesn't miss a chance, whenever we pass each other in the park, while walking, to say how crappy the weather is or if it is a nice day, he'll say, for example "Gee, it almost feels decent today."



After he says something that I don't really feel like fully absorbing in my brain because I know how his mind works, partially, I ask him, nicely, if he is okay.  No sarcasm to my tone, whatsoever.  He breathes in, sort of okay, but his breathing is a bit ragged.  Based on this and his appearance, I had asked if he was okay.  If he needed any assistance.  Ever since I've had earlier dramatic incidents, this year, of people collapsing in front of me or onto me, in my arms, I'm a little anxious.  I'm ready to call 911 on his crazy, obnoxious, old ass.

But he says that he's okay and I walk on my usual path.  Apparently, he was "okay" because I saw him walking again.  I tried to say hello to him and get him to stop, briefly, to ask how he was but he ignored me and made sure I knew he was doing it on purpose.

I thought he was being silly, vain and stupid.  So I laughed each time as distance separated us when we walked in opposite directions.  The next day, he must have known he looked like an ass because of his attitude because he immediately engaged me in a conversation about trips he and his wife have taken to Hawaii and other locations.  At least, he isn't a total turd.

When people start conveying personal info, it's usually easier for me and quite a few people, I notice, to warm up to them.  They seem more human.  That's the lesson I take from it during my experiences of these kind.  People play odd games.  I like the straightforward, honest approach.  Why be something you're not?  Don't fear!  Show yourself-- flaws, talents, interests and all.

By the way, my neighbor, across the street, has a dozen flags in his yard.  Big flagpoles with American flags in his small yard. I don't know why he has them there.  Memorial Day is quite a long time from now.  I took a picture of his front yard-in case he kills me later on.  He reminds me of the Bruce Dern character of the movie "The Burbs."  The neighbor across the road from us is always sitting in his lawn chair in his open garage, watching the movements of all in the neighborhood.

  

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Goodbye, Congressman Pervert!

People love their trivial distractions. When Congressman Anthony Weiner resigned today, the news media broke through the regular TV programming to announce his resignation over the lewd Twitter photos he sent. I happen to catch it before going out the door and running some errands in town.

When THE BREAKING NEWS thing flashed across the screen and the reporter said he was about to give everyone some important news, I was disappointed to find out it was only this bit of unworthy poop diddley. The way the reporter was frantically jabbering away, I thought the Chinese, the terrorists and North Korea were sending bombs our way or something.

But, no, just more hype over something trivial again. Boooooor-ring.

The reporter finally let loose with the potentially life-changing news by saying a politician was resigning over the erection Twitter pics he sent a young woman and they were going to show him doing his resignation speech on live TV.

To me, it might as well had been something as irrelevant as Charlie Sheen's maniacal rantings about winning or about Hugh Hefner's 25 year old fiancee calling off their wedding. That's what passes for news these days. I guess they figure people want to hear some shit that's more messed up than their own lives so they'll tune in, maybe even buy some crap because of the advertisements during the commercial breaks. Who knows? Big MEH!

I paused at the door just long enough to hear a heckler say, "Goodbye, pervert!"

At least the heckler, in the press conference area, was sending him off with a fond farewell, I thought. I stuck around for a few more seconds.

Then I had to laugh when the heckler asked the politician, Anthony Weiner, if he was more than 7 inches. That was funny. At least that part was a little surprising and offered some laughs.

I also read on the internet that CBS later bleeped that part out (the 7 inches) of the original video clip. That's too bad. At least it was actually funny. Hell, if you're going to distract people with nonsense, you should at least give them the full load. Wait. Maybe that didn't sound right.

The heckler said a few more things but then Weiner, the man that will always be known because of his infamous Internet boner pictures until the next big news comes along, stepped down from the podium.

Shrugging my shoulders, I went out the door and went into town, continuing my life as always.

Here's the uncut version of the BIG BREAKING NEWS.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Right On Cue

You're watching a movie at home, something supposedly bad happens to the supposedly likable female character. She starts to tear up. The sad music begins to play because the director wants to illicit a reaction from the movie's audience. The actress begins to cry. Right on cue, the sad music becomes louder, practically begging you to go for a Kleenex. After all, it is the intention of the director manipulate you into crying, feel sorry for the character, perhaps think of the situation happening to you for that personal response.

Or it could be a movie that's meant to be hilarious. Right on cue, there is music to set that mood, too.

You may or may not react but it's important to the producers of said movie that you do react. It is their intention that you purchase the movie later or do whatever they want you to do that usually involves you buying something in connection to the (product) movie.

You turn on the TV. There's Paris Hilton. "Dumb" rich blonde, always needing attention. She'll do the baby talk routine, show some skin for a sexual response from straight men and gay women, will act stupid, will promote her company's product, will do whatever it takes to get what she wants but never what she needs. Right on cue, she flashes a smile, craving attention from the media because, deep down, she has low self esteem. Cameras flash as she gets out of the limo. Heck, Paris might even pretend to forget to wear panties for some scandalous pictures that only add to the attention that is craved or for marketing purposes.

Is that Paris's pussy? Better zoom in for the possible genital warts. Either that or ignore that and her obvious act and read an interesting book, instead. Might I suggest Jon Stewart's Earth?

And it's nearly the same routine for a lot of the superficial folks in Hollywood. And it goes on and on. You got your Lohans, your Sheens, your desperate Reality TV " wannabe stars", your politicians and a puffed up, egotistical Donald Trump thrown in- just for good measure. Wants and insecurities. Putting on acts for a response or money. Blah fucking blah, blah, blah.

Or for another scenario: A friend or family member you know tells you "a deeply moving" story to get you to help them that involves you breaking your back or giving them money or causing you stress. Or something else you can probably think of. Put on your thinking cap!

How about the restaurant scene? The waitress at the restaurant is joking around with you, hoping you'll leave a big tip for her. She asks how you are, how your day is. The waitress smiles, laughs, maybe even flirts. Whatever it takes to make money. She plays as if she's been your friend for who knows how long in her act.

Personally, I'm just interested in getting some decent service while I'm eating the food, transparent food industry employee. I will give you a tip if the service is good. The tip amount will not be based on how exceptional your friendliness routine was. The end.

Commercials are painfully obvious with their agendas, as well. See this, they say and this will happen. Let us make you laugh or smile or nod in agreement. We want you to feel good about buying our product, because we care. If that doesn't work, maybe we'll scare you, subtly or not so subtly, into buying it.

And then there's the news programs. A reporter or anchorperson reads their script to get the intended response. Right on cue, his or her voice will waver, maybe slow their words for the effect on you. Or maybe they will infuse their words with faked excitement about an event or group or individual. And because you're the target, you are supposed to have pity, happiness or anger for this person or situation. What fun they're having! I'm wanking furiously in tribute to their supposed ingenuity. Either that or I'm shrugging my shoulders and moving on to something that's actually substantial and worthy of thinking about.

Those wacky fucks on TV will talk about a politician named Weiner sending a Twitter pic of his wiener. They will talk about the latest celebrity break up. They will say things that you've heard before too many other times. Different names. Same old shit. All because they want the response, ratings and/or money.

The images on the TV go by quickly. Our attention spans have dwindled to mere seconds.

Ugh! It's a blessing and a curse to see through people. This will sound cynical. This will sound paranoid. But it's the truth. Everyone has an agenda. I've said it before. I'm saying it again- because the superficiality of it all has bothered me almost from the very beginning of existence. I just want honesty, my fellow human wads of fuck. Tell me what you want. If it feels right for me, I'll give it to you, because I, as well, might have an agenda.

Ha! Ha! Ha! What silly shitting, eating, self-absorbed, needlessly manipulative, sometimes easily manipulated beings we are!

And here lies the truth, in the next paragraph. Watch your step! Please, don't trip over it or you may or may not acknowledge it.

When you hear or say the word "agenda" it conjures up something conspiratorial in one's mind but the agenda, itself, doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Everyone has their own motives (agendas) or goals in life. This can be a positive objective like the good feeling you get from helping someone out. But people will deny that that wasn't their intention or it wasn't in the back of their minds before coming to somebody's aid. It doesn't matter, though. As long as they truly helped someone out.

I'm sure you can think of other agendas that can be positive. And some that are not, like some of those mentioned above.


I shall now step off of my soapbox, thus ending the lecture. Was I hoping to illicit a response to this topic? Nope. I just like stating the obvious (to me) and making observations. That's my thing. Manipulation isn't usually my game. I leave it to the experts. Besides, I find it boring and repulsive.

So right on cue, I say, "Have yourselves the dandiest of days!"

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day For Me

Mother's Day means something different to all of us. The factors being your mother and you weren't close, are very close, were very close, she passed away, she's many miles away, she's living with you and so on. There's just too many and I wouldn't be able to name them all, adequately.

For me, it was/it is- a few of these things.

I've never done a Mother's Day post before because it always too painful for me to even start. Believe me, I wanted to, if for anything else, just to air out some feelings. But, as I'd try, I would eventually fail. The pain- being too great.

My Mom died nearly six years ago and I'm now able to come to grips with a lot of things having to do with that fact. We were very close, you see. She was my best friend. Mom was my confidante and the person who knew me the best. If I ever felt down, I turned to her. If I ever had good news, she was the first to know of it.

It took me years before I could do this. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I wanted to write about her, what she was like- on this blog.

Yeah, it takes me forever to get through emotional steps of whatever I'm going through. Whether it be grieve or forgiveness or making a friend or loving. I tend to take my good sweet time with all of these and more. I'm very passionate with the sensations that are rolling around in my soul. I think, but I'm not sure, this is why I have a hard time letting go of things. Once it's in there, in deeply embedded. Of course, being more apathetic than passionate may seem better to a few but I've never been that way and wouldn't know how to be like that if I wanted to. Personally, I think some people make better androids than humans.

In any case, I'm just going to stick with how I'm feeling. No soapbox diatribes on human nature today.

It's strange for me, in a way, to have Mom as a topic along with some of these odd stories, essays and pictures I've got on the blog. I hope Mom doesn't mind being a subject on my blog. Yeah, I do happen to believe in an afterlife. Any objectors or arguers of this idea will have to debate me another day. This isn't one of those type of posts where I want to hear debate of any kind so if you feel the need, save it for a another day. But getting back to how she might feel, wherever she is, I hope she doesn't give me a swat with the that ol' flyswatter she would use on me when I was bad kid when we all meet again. Ha ha. That would suck. :)

Just kidding. By the way, I've written about her before and the tough time I had with the guilt over her death and more but this post is something different.

Back to where I was....

Today I want to talk about and remember the good things about mom.

Mom and I would spend long late nights, into the early morning hours, playing Scrabble and talking about "meaning of life" type of stuff when we were both adults. Or just silly stuff. Mom was my personal advisor, a lot of times, when I'd need her most, too. I remember, as a kid, taking long walks with Mom down the gravel lane from where we lived in our four room house, when the family was dirt poor. We would walk down the lane, when I was kid, talking, holding hands and I would be looking up at her, at her eyes, as she answered any question a kid would have at that age. You know the kind. Those were pure, unforgettable times that I wouldn't trade anything for.

Later in life, Mom would watch me become distant as a teenager and later yet, succeed, fail, go on my first date, first prom, get a job, have problems, have good news and all that stuff that goes on in life and do it all-without directly judging me and instead, talk to me on a equal level that I deeply appreciated. I think she did that because she knew what all those things in life were like because she experienced them herself, along with the positive and negative aspects that is embedded within those episodes and so she empathized and showed her love by just speaking honestly and fairly.

I want to cry now as I think back on those particular great times we all had as a family. The trips to The Great Smoky Mountains, to Arizona, to out west and Florida and so on. I'm thinking about the fantastic fun times we had in the pool, throwing kickballs at each other and playing volleyball or the long, heart-to-heart talks we would have, while lounging around in the pool, about how are lives were going and what we were doing. All of our laugh-out-loud good times during our camping adventures. All of those funny moments around the campfire. These memories- I think of now and more.

Mom was incredibly demonstrative, too- Always giving hugs out to Dad and us kids, telling us how much she loved us and reassuring us and just being there when we needed her. She would celebrate our birthdays like they were the most important events in the world. Cakes, gifts, banners and streamers out the wazoo and then some. And Mom would produce big extravagant meals, full of comfort food and she would show off her considerable cooking talents with wonderfully unique meals, as well. She made sure no one left hungry at her house.

We were a very, very close knit family. We could talk about anything. Hardly any subject was off limits. Ask and ye shall receive. lol.

Shit. I was taught about the "birds and the bees" so early, openly and naturally that it would freak most uptight people out. They wouldn't be able to deal with it. But sex was something that was talked about with us like it was a natural act and it is, despite what some folks think. We would laugh at some aspects of sex, too.

I don't want to get into a debate here, but I think some folks are just little too backward and not progressive enough with this topic and more. It makes me laugh a little. Especially, in comparison with what knowledge I was given and how I was brought up. Complete honesty. Ya gotta love it. Either that or stick to being squeamish, sensitive or close-minded or whatever you want to call it.

Passing gas was funny, too. Like I said, hardly anything was off limits.

There I go again... getting off topic. I can't help myself. I have that wheel in my head that won't stop turning. Perhaps a little crazy man is turning the wheel. Who knows?

Mom and I shared the same warped sense of humor, as well. To be perfectly honest, though, my brand of humor was a little more warped.

One time, we pissed off my sister by laughing at the "beeping noises" a mentally handicapped man was making at a picnic table with his family while we were in the state park having our own family picnic not too far from his small brood.

"Beep!" The retarded man would make this noise. Mom and I would laugh. We weren't really laughing at him. Just the odd, abrupt, loud noise he would suddenly make every few minutes during the mostly quite picnic in the park.

"Beep!," he would shout out again.

Mom and I would try to hold back our laughter. We knew it wasn't right but we couldn't help it. The more he beeped and made other strange noises, the funnier it got. It's like the situation where you have a funny idea or picture in your mind at a funeral. The harder you try to control it, the more you want to let out your chuckles and guffaws. And then your body and/or mind finally betrays you and you burst from the seams, making a scene.

Oh well. My motto is: Who gives a rat's ass what people think.

The ironic thing also about this episode is that my mother worked as a nurse on the mental ward at a hospital. She was kind of used to this sort of thing but it would still make her laugh- again, not at the retarded person(s) just at the noises or outlandish actions. At the hospital, she acted, according to her, professionally- which I don't doubt because she was more than exceptional at turning her own personal laugh button off and on at really public places.

Suddenly, the retarded guy, probably about 30 years old or better, raised up his hand during the normally peaceful family picnic and yelled, "HI-YO!"

That's when we lost it, laughs busting from our guts and us, holding our mouths closed as best we could. My sister chastised us, telling us how inappropriate it was, of course. She's warped in her own right. Just not as much as me. Heh heh. And don't ask me why this memory of Mom popped in my mind. I could have thought of much better ones, I suppose. The little crazy man at the wheel in my brain does unpredictable things I feel like I can't be held accountable for.

Anyway, we didn't just laugh at the mentally handicapped shenanigans of some different folks. We shared a sense of humor about most anything you could or couldn't think of at this moment. But I think we shared more than that. I think we shared a way of looking at things in life- for better or worse- that really made of us that much closer.

I have to add that Mom was the glue, along with my Grandpa, that held the family together during inner family squabbles. Despite her depression and diabetes she suffered through, in life, she was incredibly strong and strong-willed. Mom was able to bring people together, no matter how much they didn't want to be around each other. And Mom was able to help mend our differences and hurt feelings with ease. Grandpa had this gift, too. Unfortunately, both of these much loved and much needed people are gone from our lives, passed on and now our family is fragmented in ways you would find hard to understand and I couldn't begin to even explain.

But listen to this!

When Mom passed away, I immediately learned this particular lesson, shortly after. It's a way of looking at things in your life, honestly. And because I learned this, I became instantly honest with myself, everyone else and completely accepted my flaws, my talents, my failures and my accomplishments and really... everything.

Here is the most significant insight I have and likely ever will have:

The most important part of your life isn't money, material things, status, proving who's best or who's not or who's right or who's wrong, the media, politics or religion. The most important part of your life are your loved ones. Everything, in comparison, is trivial.

Sometimes people won't learn or understand what I just said until a very close loved one has passed on. Sometimes they will understand it before it does come down to something that crucial or extreme.

That's it. That's my own personal insight. It's a doozy if you put any thought to it or if you have put any thought into it.

Being honest with yourself and accepting yourself is almost right up there with all of that. And to be painfully honest, as my Mom would sometimes say I could be, at times... I think both of those insights could be said to be intertwined if you think about it as I have.

Below are pictures of my immediate family that I put in a frame shortly after Mom passed away. I chose these pictures because of their meaning and because I like these images of Mom the best so far. I have dozens of family albums I haven't gone through since Mom died but I think I will do that, here, pretty soon.

On the upper left is Mom and Dad, a year before I was born. In the middle top, is Mom (that's Dad's arm around her). I had to cut Dad off in order to get the picture in the frame right. I have another copy with him completely there. :) On the upper right, is Mom and Dad at a state park. Both of my parents loved the great outdoors. A love and respect my sister and I shared with them, too and still do. The rest of the pics, at the bottom, are of me and the rest of the family. My Grandpa, who was a farmer, is in the second last picture- towards the right.

Well, my fellow bloggers and readers, this is my Mother's Day post. I consider this, in itself, a minor accomplishment, considering how long I put it off. Thanks for reading it and I welcome your thoughts and/or stories. Take care of each significant other in your own life and please don't forget what I said earlier, regarding my insight. Be well. Kelly. Out.
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