mind expanding nonsense

Archive for January, 2011

Egypt


Boy. The shit has sure hit the old fan over there. Looks like it blew in from Tunisia, and could turn into a real sand storm which could effect Jordan and Saudi Arabia. Who would think that 30 years of the same old dictatorship and 25% unemployment could cause such a stir? Everybody (world leaders) are starting to freak out now cause, if the whole of the Middle eat goes berserk [again], what are we gonna do about our oil supplies and the lifestyle to which we have become accustomed?

This isn’t gonna be a Geo-political rant about the injustices suffered by the common people in the Arab world. Cause when I think about Egypt, I think about the Pyramids, the Sphinx, and…The Mummy. And not his latest incarnations, but the good old Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney Mummies. From Universal pictures. That was some scary-ass stuff as a kid. What I couldn’t quit understand though, is how anyone with two good feet could get caught by the Mummy. He was a cripple, with a bad leg he could only drag, and a left hand still wrapped to his chest after all these thousands of years… I always knew, “I”, could outrun that sucker, and if need be, just get a match, find a loose band aide he was wearing, and light his raggedy ass on fire. But thank god for clumsy female actresses who couldn’t take more than two steps before falling down screaming. They sure employed a lot of folks with disabilities at Universal.

But here’s the real part of this post, with a true story. Have you ever reflected on how fate, chance, or just plain dumb luck has save you from a world of hurt? Dig this: A fellow retiree buddy of mine decided to do an Egyptian tour when the climate over there is favorable: late January. So a few months ago he booked an Egyptian tour via an on-line travel service. I was excited for him, cause, I thought about an Egyptian tour a few years back when one first goes through the “let’s travel” phase of retirement.

Basically every tour is the Same. Cairo… up the Nile to Aswan, then back down by boat to Luxor. I wanted to do it, researched it on the net. Very doable; just click the ‘purchase’ button. But the thought of flying from LAX to Cairo, with probable stop at Heathrow, was more than my aging ass could take. We did New Zealand in 2006. 14 hours, LAX to Auckland..just a good sleeping pill away. I won’t mention the terror of immediately getting off the plane, and in somewhat of a drug haze, having to drive 200 kilometers on the Wrong Side Of The Road. I mean, you might as well have been driving backwards, it was so crazy. [did manage after a bit, and it wasn’t so bad drivin’ on the left hand side, it was just those turnabouts that got a little tricky.] So, 24 hours of traveling was not something I wanted to do, and it went no further.

Well, mid January rolls around and I call my friend, and Zoowie!!: They’re not going. What??? Seems like they discovered Trip Advisor, and started reading reviews of the company that operated their tour, and….you guessed it …Bad reviews. Horror stories about lousy service, bad food, flies, and leaking cruise vessels. Long story short. They canceled the tour, even speaking to the Company president, and got a full refund of their money. [unheard of] It appears that the Company was getting such consistent bad reviews, that they were willing to refund peoples money; their business depending mainly on word of mouth referrals.

In Retrospect, and here’s the karmic/fate part, they canceled themselves out of a shit-load of suffering. I called him last Wednesday morning when I first saw the rioting in Cairo on CNN News. “You lucky mother f…er.” We both laughed our ancient asses off, cause on that day of the riot, he and wifey would have been in Cairo, at the airport, and no doubt willing to pay anything to get on a plane, and get the hell out of there. Funny how emotions can run from, “we’re Getting Screwed on this trip” to relief and some regrets about not going, to “We could have Gotten Screwed by Taking This Trip”. It’s really strange how things play-out; all we gotta do, is go along for the emotional roller coaster.

Hope all works out well for the Egyptians. It certainly worked out well for my Bud.

Love It, Or Leave It


America… Love It or leave it

You gotta love America, and next to Germany it’s the strangest place on Earth, so I’m not gonna leave it (unless I take another trip to Germany). That was a popular phrase during the 60’s, when everything went to hell as the Vietnam war got underway. Good thing we learned our lesson about getting involved in un-winnable wars in distant lands.

We just got done celebrating Martin Luther King’s Birthday. America’s great Civil Rights Hero. We loved him so much he was assassinated. We also loved JFK (and his Brother Bobbie) to death also. Too bad there isn’t a John Lennon day here in the States. Just think, a three day weekend of “Love,love love” and giving peace a chance. Won’t happen; he was a Brit, but we still loved him to death. O K. Enough of the political rant. I don’t want anyone to think of me as being way out there in left wing la la land. When it comes to La La land, I want to be smack dab in the middle.

This whole thing is really about bumper stickers and how they attempt to sum-up complex political views into a nifty phrase, clearly visible from 50 feet away. America…Love It Or leave It was a big one in the 60’s, and implied that if you didn’t like how things were run, you better hit the bricks. A lot of my buddies back then were loving America so much, that they were leaving it for Vietnam. I preferred the sticker: “Draft Beer, Not Students”.

There were religious bumper stickers too. You gotta remember the one that said: “The Answer Is” then some garbled letters. You had to underline the script to find out that JESUS was the correct answer. I had great stoner fantasies about that one, pretending the Answer was: “Legalize Pot”, or “Everybody Get Naked and Screw”. My favorite religious one was the “I Found It” sticker.. Found WHAT? You guessed it; correct answer, Jesus. [Some would argue that the correct answer is always Jesus.] The Jews had a great come-back sticker: “We Never Lost It”. Mine would have been “I Had It Crammed Down My Throat Since Birth, And Am Now Breathing A Lot More Easier Since The Blockage Was Removed”.

So everybody’s driving around in America loving to share their views on everything , via car bumper-sticker. Some real inane stuff like “I (heart shape) My Dog”, or “Save The Whales”. Wow. Who could take issue with that. Even the Japanese want to save the whales…but just for desert. The best antidote for all the (heart-shaped) things drivers loved , was provided by the National Lampoon. For a modest fee, you could buy a roll of round adhesive stickers with a picture of a machine screw on it. The idea was, when you’ve just seen too much of what people (heart-shaped), you could peel one off and stick it over the heart shape. Sure changed the message folks wanted made public about themselves.

Anyway, this has gone on too far. What was your favorite bumper sticker?

The Gym

About four to five mornings a week, I drag myself out of bed, get on my bike, and go to the Gym. I love lifting weights and working out. When I was fighting crime, one had to stay in shape to keep up with the bad guys. You also had to have a lot of endurance to put up with the idiotic directives and endless cascade of bullshit coming down from ”Admin”. So, like the guys in prison, many of whom can thank me for being there, I felt I needed to keep up with the clientele.

Now I gotta clear up some things for all you folks that may think being a Probation Officer was in anyway exciting or interesting. When I told people what I did for a living, they’d say something like: “How interesting” or “You must like working with people,” No, I didn’t like working with people, I liked screwin’ with people or why would I be in a racket where all I did all day was tell folks what to do, and threaten them with jail if they didn’t?? AND, to set the record straight; because I hate the confusion of terms. Probation means supervision BEFORE prison: parole means supervision AFTER prison. Jail, is a county facility. Prison is a State Penitentiary, commonly know as “The Pen”, “Big House”, or my favorite, “The Joint”. I would always snicker at that term because it was ‘loaded’ with double meanings.

Back to the Gym. When people ask me if I workout; I usually say “Ain’t it obvious?” Well apparently it’s not, or they wouldn’t be asking. When they ask me “Where”, I reply “The Gym”. “The gym?”, they reply, and I tell them the name of my gym is The Gym. Pretty simple, but sometimes people can’t comprehend that and an Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” routine ensues, and it’s down hill from here. If they’d over medicated themselves (which sometimes accidentally happens to me) a “Niagara Falls” routine would follow.

I started liftin’ weights when I was sixteen years old, and got myself a Health-Ways 110 lb barbell set. I did every exercise in the small training booklet that came with it. Just like the husky guy in the diagrams, I was bench pressing, doing the military press, and tons of curls: wanted them big ‘guns’. [I was unarmed as a P O]. Boy I sure had a lot of testosterone them days. Wonder how many other 60 year old guys rushed out to buy a weight set after getting sand kicked in their faces. That never happened to me after I started “lifting”. And just like the Ad in them matchbook covers….Now I was the sand kicker, not the kickee….Sorry guys.

I didn’t keep lifting throughout the years. I stopped in college after I first learned about the joint. Or else, I would have been massive, awesome like Arnold, and in really good shape. Now I’m like Arnold. No job, and physically deteriorating; I don’t die my hair. But I started liftin’ again, fifteen years ago, and am now still in my prime.
So I go to the GYM just about every morning and workout.

My/The Gym is not a meat-market like a lot of “fitness clubs”. But an older gym, with even older clientele. Which is good if ya just want to stay in shape and want to get more out of Social Security than you ever paid in. Most of the folks there are friendly and into just staying fit. There’s tons of doctors, lawyers, and even a judge working out there. Some of these guys you even get to know pretty well.

Take my Tea Party Buddie, Mick. I sure like to yank his chain with some progressive stuff like, “Old Sarah sure got her tits caught in a wringer with that blood libel shit”. Well having arrived at the Gym with a big dose of Rush Limbaugh already under his belt, he’s ready to rant and usually responds with “You liberals always……” and then goes on with the latest GOP talking points or O’Riley rant. He thinks I’m serious. I’m really just screwin’ with him ( old habits die hard), and pushing every conservative button I know to see him squirm. Although we actually share a lot of fiscally conservative views, when it comes to religion, the intercourse takes on new heights of delight. He accuses me of not believing in God. To which I respond, “Yes I do, I go to church and worship Her every Sunday”. Mick goes ballistic and is usually so shell-shocked, that he stops liftin’ and has to go right home and turn on Fox News…..Don’t exercise much when he’s around, but my funny bone sure gets a good work-out.

So, not only does The Gym, keep me physically awesome, but mentally as well. Some of my best rants get their start in The Gym.

Lutherans


Every other week I go to a meditation group where we sit for a half hour and practice Insight Meditation (Vipassana). Well I’ve found in some of the discussions after-wards, that a lot of the people attending were former Catholics, and still dealing with issues around that up-bringing. Our group could be sub-titled: a Catholic Recovery program.

I wasn’t brought up a Catholic. Nope…I was a Lutheran, which is kinda like Catholicism lite. You’ve probably heard a lot about us if you listen to Garrison Keeler and the Prairie Home Companion. Everything he says about Scandinavian Lutherans is true. I shit you not…My Dad was one of them, and from Wisconsin….Garrison’s got us nailed.

Without exploring the intricacies of Lutheranism, I think you can basically bring us down to two types: drinking, and non drinking Lutherans. You can tell the non-drinking Lutherans. They have a scowl on their faces and always look bitterly serious. They never seem to be having any fun, unless they’re all together in the church basement getting liquored up.

My side of the family were drinking Lutherans. And I found out how much when I attended a family reunion in Germany. Boy, they started early, and drank into the night. Even my 84 year old Aunt was nursing a glass of wine throughout the evening. The actual festivities started out by a waiter immediately taking drink orders, and after we all chugged one of those liter glasses of great German beer, things started livening up. And things picked up from there…They were getting bombed, (an expression that didn’t go over too well). My second cousin, Werner, who is on his second liver, had a glass of wine going all day and all night (discreetly keep full by an ever attentive waiter). Werner has a small fruit orchard. And what does he do with all excess fruit….He makes schnapps. Vhat else!

Half of Germany is filled with good Lutherans. It’s the state religion, and you gotta pay an annual fee whether you actually attend or not. [ I would prefer more of a user fee if I lived over there.] The others are good Catholics. Still there’s that same distinction between the two types.

Here’s a little horror story about non-drinking Lutherans. We visited Dresden while in Germany, and just had to see the Frauenkirche; literally… Church Of Our Lady (sounds pretty catholic-y to me). It’s a totally re-built and restored Lutheran Cathedral. [ FYI: Dresden was totally destroyed by fire bombs in WWII, and since, been restored to it’s former glory……Danke Schoen America]. We went inside and it was gorgeous; bright expansive, beautiful. People were starting to gather inside around noon; we thought for an organ recital. Wrong! It was for a church service. And although we were in the back of the church, we were trapped. The doors were shut, and guards (sober looking individuals) posted. The thought of sitting through another Lutheran service (in German) was not what I had in mind as the high-lite of our Dresden experience. How we gonna get outta here? Well the wife, having come from the non-drinking side, started coughing. Occasionally at first, and then growing in intensity, till she was about to have a luggie-hocking fit. We all fained concerned, and rushed her to the door. The twelve stepper manning the exit let us out, and pronto….we were free at last. Thank God we were free at last.!!!

The wife sure learned a lot in them church basements. And I sure learned a lot from her. So, in conclusion, I’d like to make a toast to my fellow Lutherans (Once a Lutheran…Always a Lutheran). “Prost!” , “Cheers”, “Drink up”. To the other half, “Chill-out”.

Extenze “Works for me.”

I Know… the Z should be capitalized. And how would you know? Got zee site bookmarked? Written checks payable to: ? Maybe I’m a little paranoid about being sued…and don’t want to take chances. Anyway, this is a hallucination, not an endorsement or condemnation of any product.

Furthermore, before you all turn into a choir of ex-wives, and start the chant: “Is that all you ever think about Hansi; is penises and sex?” This is actually a clever blogger trick to get more views on my web-site…. Back to what all I think about; the answer is NO. I’ve written posts on Farting, Germany, and Poontang, as found in its various forms. Hmmmmm….That gives me an idea. Look for my forthcoming semi-autobiographical post on German Poontang I’ve seen while Farting.

Now back to clever blogging. I was going over my Word press statistics for the month [as all good bloggers do…and tell ya about]; and I found that by a margin of three to one, my Tri Phoria ( the female vibrator) post had the most/consistent views. What can I say? A quick analysis reveals that there are either a lot of perverts out their on the Internet, or very shocked women who may have Google’d onto my site, and are saying, “What the Fock!”

So, I was up early again and watched the Extenze 30 minute program, not just the info-infomercial. It had a NASCAR theme featuring, and you won’t believe it, His and Hers Extenze race cars. It featured a sparsely clad woman in a faux race-car suit; except hers only had hot pants (but not fire retardant), and a zippered top revealing how racy she really was. See, they were pushing Extenze for women too! I couldn’t quit wrap my mind around that one (hadn’t taken my medication yet). But my logic was as follows: If the stuff for men makes em longer, the stuff for women has got to make them…..well you know? I figured the whole thing was ploy to get both sexes addicted to their product….Guys take the pills to extend themselves; Gals must take their pills to extend themselves in retaliation, or self defense. And so on. The vicious cycle of dependancy ‘deepens’ until everyone’s wangs are literally bent out of shape [ I’ll let your dirty mind fill in the details; the “Man from Trent” limerick works for me].

What’s cool though is that they have made silver-haired former Dallas Cowboys Coach Jimmy ‘what’s His name.’ the Extenze Spokesman. Yep, “Mr Long Yardage” and “Deep in the End-zone”, has found his calling. Jimmy says, “It works for Me”. What Jimbo didn’t say was, “I use it.” Of course Extenze works for you Jimmy. You’re getting paid a fortune to push this stuff and probably have it stipulated in your contract, that these spots not air on any Sports Channels or after 5 am.

What I do admire, is that the Extenze folks got their demographics right. Who else is gonna be up at 4:00 in the morning except us old guys who can’t go back to sleep after getting up for the third time that night to pee? It’s not young kids, they’re all asleep, and worn out from a night full of debauchery. Extenze also features testimonials from older people, and that’s a bit comforting. You know the last thing an old Dad wants to hear is a team of twenty-something tramps going on about how size is all that matters. Makes ya wonder if this is all your “little girl” wants out of life. I don’t want to even think about it!!

Well that’s the end of this crank full of bullshit. Guess I’m gonna have to file this one in the Bizarre But True category, and extend to you an offer to reply.

Political Poontang

If you don’t know what Poontang is, let me refresh your memory. [That was my favorite term for “I forgot” when I was a Probation Officer, and testifying in Court about why I was Violating some guy( had nothing to do with sex, although some of my clients really took it in the shorts), and had totally forgotten why, and needed to look in my case file to find out. I would have to ask the Judge if I could “refresh my memory” first before I could take a peek; which was not unlike trying to refresh an out-house.]

Anyway, back to Poontang, and, refreshing your memory without going into graphic details, is what Muddy Waters said, “makes ya feel so good when your baby put her night-dress on.” And, “It’s the same old thing that makes a preacher lay his Bible down”. Don’t ya just love those old Blues and R&B songs. Those guys sure had a way with words and were talkin’ about some really raunchy stuff that went way over the heads of us little white-boys who were buying their records. Take ‘Sixty Minute Man’ by Billy Ward and the Dominoes. I thought it was a song about some guy that had an hour to kill.

So now ya know about Poontang, and if ya mix that with Politics or Religion, you really get a toxic combination. The Reformation was all about poontang. Martin, the abstinent monk who wanted to get married, Luther, wanted a little so he started a whole new church. I even saw the church door where he nailed his 95 Theses when in Germany last Fall; I didn’t get to see where he nailed his new wife. Over in England, Henry VIII, got tired of the ‘same old thing”, and started the Church of England, so he could get a divorce and refresh his poontang. France and Italy were largely immune from the Reformation and stayed Catholic because they’d been ignoring all papal poontang decrees for years; figuring “ If you no playa the game, you no make-a the rules.”

Wars have been started, and empires waxed and waned because of political poontang. Taking the expression ‘getting a little’ to global extremes. Look at Napoleon. Small man, small dong, ravages Europe. Poor Bill Clinton sure got bit in the ass mixing politics with Monica Lewinsky-laden poontang.

My favorite form of political poontang, that I’m enjoy right now, is Sarah Palin, and how she got her tits caught in the wringer over this whole Blood Libel thing. I wasn’t familiar with the term, probably because offending Jewish people is not high on my list of priorities. But how can old Sarah be held responsible for saying something, when she had no clue as to its meaning. She didn’t know what she was talking about? Nice tits, evil wringer! Don’t get me wrong, I love Sarah. She’s an endless source of inspiration for my blog, and we both have something in common…….we both crank out bullshit all day. You go girl.

I enjoyed drawing Sarah so much that I did her twice, drawing that is. Below is a pencil drawing of her getting caught in the old wringer. How sweet it is.

The Blog-O-Spear part 2


If you haven’t read my first post on the blog-o-sphere, read it! All this crap will make more sense that way. You don’t go right to the end of the book when you first get it? Do you? OK then; in summary: we’ve been conditioned to crank out bullshit all day since grade school, and only find retirement satisfying if we’re cranking out bullshit.

So this blogging thing has turned into a whole new world, and my Hallucinations have been in included. Despite all the chaos in Blogistan, there does seem to be some method to all this madness (think Hatter, no angry). And that is: to get as many views or hits on your site as you can. Everybody is goin’ round commenting on other blogs, in the hopes that they’ll get people to see what they’ve cranked out. [Old Hansi will plead ‘no contest’ to that one.] I make a post. You make a comment; I respond to your comment. I check out your site, as you check mine. We all check out everybody else, and end up in one huge daisy-chain of people yakking their heads off in order to be herd.

Some sites are really good,like the Cantankerous Old Coots who certainly share a lot of my views ( pun intended). Others offer real help on dealing with retirement issues like what do you crank out, when you no longer crank out bullshit all day? [Seriously, that’s a big one for a lot of folks and a normal phase one goes through upon first retiring.]…….Back to the fun. So why all this trafficking in Yak? To increase readership. One would think ya wanted more than family and friends just reading your stuff and thinking you’re a pervert. Nope. You want to increase your readership so you can Cash In. Make Money…Get Rich….cranking out bullshit all day. How to do it is the hard part. Advertisers are not beating down my door to place their products in front of my twelve avid followers.

But here’s my scam business plan. And I’m focusing on the retiree market: (1) Send me your Social Security check….(2) I’ll spend it on a night of debauchery, and (3) give you full credit in the morning on my blog. On whatever Wednesday of the month you get your check, immediately sign it on the back, add Payable to Hansi, and send it off to me. I promise to spend most of it on a night of unbelievable passion, and the best bottle of Two Buck Chuck money can buy. Plus, You’ll get the actual Polaroid photos I take, in a handsome plain manila envelope, with a personal message from me; I’ll even wave the usual $8.99 shipping and handling fee. In addition, if you are not totally satisfied, and not basking in the vicarious glow of how much I embarrassed myself in your name, I’ll give you a 60 day money back guarantee; and refund your money after 60 days… [Escrow should have closed on my Mexican Villa by then.]….If you act now, I’ll even throw in the cork.

I’ll be waiting at my mailbox,

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