mind expanding nonsense

Archive for March, 2011

Old Pleasures

I was listening to some music the other day on my Disc-man and started to mess with the little ear-buds hoping to get just a little better sound, when I had a great Flash; I’m gonna get out my 35 year old Radio Shack Real Earphones and listen to my stuff like I did a long time ago. Now these are the real-deal; earphones that cover your entire ear, with big strap over your head and give you a fidelity and fullness of sound you just ain’t gonna get out of two little “buds” ( of course there are “buds” that actually enhance all musical experiences, but that’s the subject for another post).

Earphones used to be the ultimate in stereo listening 40 years ago. And wow! Powered by my 40 year old Pioneer SX770 tuner amp, the Fabulous Thunderbirds never sounded so good; except when seen live. This whole thing got me started thinking about re-visiting Old Pleasures; stuff ya used to do in the past but just can’t find time for now. Gawd, Jimmy Vaughn was great as a T-Bird.

So, when was the last time you actually sat down and just listened to a whole album? Not just in the background, but with room shakin’ fidelity pumped out by 2 or more 12 inch speakers. Been a while? Seems like Classic Rock satellite stations and the I-Pod have ruined music appreciation. Try re-visiting Hendrix, Zeppelin, Cream and Credence. Yeah, you hear that stuff all the time on those stations, but their familiarity is only breeding contempt as far as I’m concerned.

I mean if I hear Santana’s “Black Magic Woman” one more time I’m gonna puke. It’s actually a great song, blending the work of British blues-man Peter Green with jazz guitarist Gabor Szabo’s Gypsy Queen. But damn, I just don’t want to hear it again. Same thing with Elvis (before he went into the Army); he cranked out some of the best rock and roll of the 50’s, great stuff, but lame now that you heard it a million times.

Old pleasures are still a rich experience. Things like reading a book (not Kindle), going to the movies (not renting them), or just hanging out with a friend are all rich experiences, worthy of re-exploration.

Speaking of old pleasures, the wife just walked into the room with a friskie look on her face.  Gotta go now.  But take time to enjoy this old pleasure from Fleetwood Mac (before the chicks showed up).  In fact, if you still have it, give their “Then Play On” album a listen; well worth it.

The Oh Reilly Fornication

**CONTENT WARNING ! I just had to do that one. I love seeing that when going to a blog, advising me that if I’m not over 18 years old, the content of the yet to be entered blog, may be offensive. Well being at least three times that age, but with a mind of a seventeen year old, what it means to me is; Good stuff ahead. But, if you’re a neo-conservative, born again Republican, you may take issue with some of my content. Not that it’s going to be a bunch of filth, for I don’t want to be dirty, let alone peddle smut. However, if a few prompts starts to get your mind wet; well I’ll let you do all the heavy lifting from there.

DISCLAIMER: Had to throw that one in too. This is strictly a hallucination of my pre Alzheimer’s mind, and bears no resemblance to any living beings or personalities that may in fact have a functioning heart. It would only be a coincidence if they had some heart.

So, a while back, I was viewing a clip on one of my favorite Demented blogs, which featured Bill Oh Reily interviewing Ann Coldter. What a right wing love fest that was. Bill Oh was feeding her lines that brought out the best (worst?) of her. It was at about that time that my medication started kicking into high gear, that I came to the conclusion: why don’t they really tell it like it is? I mean if Fox News isn’t screwing with your mind, then who is. And if they’ve already violated you, why not go all the way, and not just to first base.

Hence…The Oh Rilley Fornication. An new twist on the Oh Rielly Factor, wherein Bill seduces right wing ideologues and nails em (not like they did to Jesus) on the show. Bill and Ann were getting so so hot, in this clip, that I envisioned them gradually disrobing with every talking point.  At the mention of gun control, they started to loose control, and then, faster than you can say “corporate tax cut”, and here’s where your part comes in, they jump each others bones and start….doin’ it. What a show. I’d certainly become a regular viewer, and eagerly await the next RILF (republican I’d like to f***), that Oh Really “interviews”.

Great fun, but we can’t stop there. [You may want pause for a moment to pull a condom over your head to prevent a socialism disease]. How bout Shawn Hanitty (to be changed to Hand-on-titty)? Well, I don’t know about you, but that guy seems a little too anal for me. But if he interviewed Sarah again. Well there could be fireworks, especially if the First Dude stepped in. [Much too heavy for me to lift]. That would be a three-some, that would tickle me some.

Can’t forget Grettle von Sustainance. I like her, but that poor girl looks like she been whooped with an ugly stick, and it would take writing skills that far exceed mine , to properly script that one. Hey, they could make it a reality show, and not need scripting. Grettle could interview Snooki.  Meowww, that would be a cat-fight.

I’ don’t want to be-labor the point, and I think you get the idea. Sadly, those were the only shows I could think of that were in need of a “make-over”, cause, frankly, most Fox News personalities are ugly, and I can’t stand watching them. Now now, if you really look at them, you know in your heart that I am Right.  There is this loud mouthed blond however, that looks interesting; she doesn’t let anybody get a word in edge-wise. Ummm…..Good premise for yet another show.

Well, this was good for me; hope it was good for you. If you were offended….I Warned You!! But next time ya watch a Fox News program, keep Hansi in mind. You’ll get a “lift” out of it.

There once was a gal named Palin

Who was in need of a vigorous nailin’

She looked like a fox

With those long brown locks

But when she opened her mouth, it was only wailin’

Reefer Madness

Right now, at the end of March, we here in the good ol’ US of A are in the Middle of “March Madness”. I’m not talking about the “Middle East Madness”, the “Muammar Gaddafi Madness” or all the other forms of insanity that we’re dealing with. I’m talking about the NCAA College basketball playoffs, which is called ‘March Madness’. I don’t know why they call it such, maybe because that’s all that is on TV. But then again this Libya Madness has captured a lot of our attention too.

Well, with all this “madness” going on, and I thrive on madness (but not the angry type), I got to thinkin’…..Hey…we’re leaving out “Reefer Madness”.

Reefer madness” was a 1936 morality tale, originally released as “Tell Your children” and financed by a church group. It was quickly bought, re-edited and cut, and released on the “exploitation circuit” as “Reefer Madness”.  Along side such favorites as “The Smut Peddler” and “Curfew Violators”, “Reefer Madness” was about how all these people’s lives turned to shit, after mistakenly accepting a reefer (joint) as a normal cigarette, smoking it, and then in a drug crazed spiral of depravity, go on to kill people with hit and run accidents, manslaughter, rape and mental illness. Sounds like they were smokin’ some good shit to me.

Anyway, this film quickly dove into obscurity, the Prohibition was over, so America resumed it’s love affair with alcohol. It wasn’t until the late 1960’s that the film made a resurgence. That’s because Reefer Madness struck every college campus in the States. And did we take it as a warning about the dangers of drug use? Hell No. It was a joke! And what better way to view this film? than to “get loaded”, totally “fried”, “stoned” and utterly “phucked up”. It was a howl.

Now I got to admit that I tried it, once or twice, back in those days. But watching that film on campus was a total trip, and everybody there was riding high. What did we do after viewing all that antiquated admonishment? Jump in cars and get into accidents, quit school for a life of debauchery, kill someone ? (well only if you were drafted, then you’d actually be taught how to kill people, but only South-east Asians).   Hell no…..After sixty minutes of our own reefer madness, we were running to the coffee shop, cause everybody had the munchies and were craving sweets. Oh the depravity of it all.  We usually went back to the dorm, where we fell asleep listening to Bob Dylan.

Reefer Madness. The ultimate in melodramatic, morality laden bullshit. That’s what we college kids thought. Cause if  “They” were lyin’ to ya about the Vietnam War, what else were “They” lyin’ about?? Well quite a lot actually, and unfortunately, that got a lot of us thinkin’.

Well. I’m not advocating drug use for any one. That would be against the law. And as a former Probation Officer, I had to enforce ‘all laws’. Even the ones I wasn’t particularly fond of.   So I don’t want people to break the law. Here in California we can have our cake (called edibles at the dispensary) and eat it too. Yep, the compassionate people of California, not wanting anyone to unduly suffer, were the first to vote in a medical marijuana law in 1996. No wonder everybody wants to live here.

So…..what’s my last word? If you’re suffering, it’s because you are not obeying All Laws.

Elvis

Who says America doesn’t have any Royalty. Besides Donald Trump, Warren Buffett, and any one else who’s rich, America does have a King. And that King is Elvis. Now in this oligarchy we call the USA, lots of folks are treated like royalty.

Take Bernie Madoff, of Wall Street Ponzi scheme fame. He was worshiped by greedy shareholders for getting them those 10% plus annual returns, until they woke up to the fact he was screwing them, and royally. Bernie is now in a “country club” prison for the rest of his life, but treated like royalty by his fellow inmates because of the magnitude of his crimes. They stole thousands; Bernie stole billions.

The real King though, is Elvis Aaron Presley; the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis is the American story personified. Coming from below modest southern roots. He learned to play guitar, could sing, and the rest is history. From poverty to millionaire. Overnight!

To set the record straight. Elvis and his reign as King, in my humble opinion, ended when he got drafted and went into the Army. It was downhill for poor Elvis, after that. From the bad movies to the parody of himself in his last years as Las Vegas glitter star.

So we’re talking about when Elvis was raw and rocking.

Elvis blew us away with his gyrating pelvis and bluesy countrified music style called rockabilly; rocked up Hillbilly music. Now Elvis stole liberally from the black R&B artists of the day, but he got the airplay, because America had this big hang-up about black people, and didn’t want their nice innocent little white sons and daughters listening to what was called “race music” at the time. What did us nice innocent little white kids want to listen to at the time?? Jungle music!! Screaming’ negroes, rockin’ black guys putting their feet on the piano (Little Richard), duck walking while “playin that guitar like ringing a bell”, (Chuck Berry).

The real trip is that Elvis inspired just about every adolescent boy in the States to learn at least three guitar chords, and try to be the next ‘sensation’. It’s amazing the number of Elvis knock-offs there were. Gene Vincent. “Be Bop A Lula” sure sounds a lot like Elvis’ “Heartbreak Hotel”.  And the more ya get into obscure rockabilly of the time, the more ya see that the whole South was tryin’ to climb there way out of poverty with a million selling record.

Now Elvis wasn’t the only original rockabilly artist. Sun records had Roy Orbison (think “Oobie Doobie”, not “Only The lonely”). Jerry Lee Lewis, Billy Lee Riley, and more. [funny how all those Southern hillbillies had Lee for their middle names. Robert E Lee immortalized himself down there]. If you had your shit together, you too could have a hit record, a Cadillac, and your fifteen minutes of fame

Here’s my favorite rockabilly tune of all time: Billy Lee Riley’s “Flying Saucers Rock and Roll”. It really personified the times: The A-Bomb, flying saucer movies, rock and roll all wrapped up into one. A stupid-ass story about extraterrestrial beings landing in America. And what do they do? Save mankind from destruction? Bring advanced technology to alleviate poverty and ignorance? Hell No!! They formed a band and started to jam.. You just gotta love it. This ain’t a bunch of Hansi bullshit, it’s genuine, real, all American bullshit. Enjoy.

The House of Pain

The House of Pain strikes fear in my heart, as it should yours if you are one of the animals reading my blog.

The  “House of Pain” was in the classic 1933 movie “Island of Lost Souls” which was based on H G Wells’ story, “The Island of Dr Moreau”.  This version featured Charles Laughton as a mad scientist who was busily changing animals into humanoid creatures. This painful transformation took place in his laboratory called the “House of Pain”, which all the creatures feared, and were threatened with, for not walking upright, or eating flesh (a big no no on that lonely isle). Their response was “Are we not Men?”….No they were Devo.

Well this isn’t so much about that great flick. It’s about going back to WORK; excuse me for using a ‘four lettered word’ in mixed company. When I was fighting crime as a Probation Officer, back in the Golden Age of Corrections, me and my PO buddies would call the Probation agency “The House of Pain”. Not so much for what we inflicted on our clients, but for the fact that we hated it, felt our supervisors were narrow minded ass-covering dumb-shits, and the administration (Admin), full of shit. And like all good, barely humanoid creatures, we’d much rather prefer a leisurely life filled with eating, gossip and fornication, over a life of drudgery, cause that’s the way we were treated.

Well I hung in there for 30 years ( thirty god-damned, miserable, mind numbing, sucking the life out of you years). Good thing I survived intact and am now enjoying the creature comforts of retirement, however lacking in fornication it may now be.

Actually, I retired seven years ago, but after six months of retirement, went back to work for Probation as an extra-help DPO. I worked in our local juvenile facility (prison for kids) as a Corrections Officer. Kinda like in all those Prison shows like “Lock-up Raw”; except this was more like ‘lock-up medium rare’. I actually liked it. What a testosterone laden environment. And speaking of jiss levels, I got to work, and bullshit with guys half my age and break up fights, by spraying combative homeboys in the face with pepper spray…OC. What a contact high that was for old Hansi’s ancient ass.

Well, that got old, especially after I had to break up a fight between two ninety pound pre-pubescent 12 year old boys in a quad classroom. The fight wasn’t bad, almost a joke.  What was bad, was getting down on my arthritic knees and trying to handcuff these little turds, while my legs were cramping up on me, and then getting up again. That’s when I figured “I’m too old for this shit”. So I then worked for my old boss on a bank DUI (drunk driver) caseload, doing mindless paper work. That was more estrogen laden.

Well, all us retired guys who were working extra help, finally got weaned from the County tit in 2009, when we all got laid off due to the financial crisis. [At least I got layed.] And ‘thank you Jesus’, I was put out of my misery.

BUT… and here’s the scary part. My old boss recently told me they were going to call back retired folks for a limited time only to clean up some of the massive case loads that are barely attended too. The House of Pain!!!!! And would I be interested??

Now I usually don’t share a lot of personal stuff here, except for my hallucinations. And I don’t intend this to be a blog about “My dysfunctional life”.   Nope, my hallucinations are about all the crazy shit that comes to my mind after getting properly medicated.  But, am I out of my frickin’ medicated mind, for even thinking about going back to the House of Pain??

The money could be good, hours that I choose, no actual probation work (screwing with people and threatening them with my own little “Cottage of Pain”).

Well I sent my application in. We’ll see what happens. The best part is: resuming my duties as a crime fighter could provide a mother load of blog material.  Downside is, I can’t tell anyone there about my Blog. If ‘Admin’ read this shit, they’d fire my ass. Hey… that could be ticket out.. Kinda like a get out of jail free card.

There once was a PO named Stover

Who was treated worse than my dog named Rover

Many years did pass

Of taking it in the ass

So he changed his name to Ben Dover.

Help! I’m Being Brain Washed

Help…I’m Being Brainwashed

Bet you haven’t heard that one in a while, but during the 1950’s, the term struck fear in our hearts. For someone who was brainwashed was a ticking time bomb, ready to go off when least expected. And our enemies, The “Commies”, were the ones most likely to be in control of that laundromat.

Mind control (also known as brainwashing, coercive persuasion, mind abuse, thought control, or thought reform) refers to a process in which a group or individual “systematically uses unethically manipulative methods to persuade others to conform to the wishes of the manipulator(s), often to the detriment of the person being manipulated”.

A few mornings ago, I was up early (again), and watching the Business station, CNBC and MSNBC, and doing some stretching while waiting for my medicine to kick in, and work it’s magic; when I came to the conclusion that I (we) are being brainwashed by the media, politicians, and our government. You name it, and they’re screwing with our minds.

OK, you may think that my brain ain’t being washed, but watered down, and if anything needs washing, it’s my mouth out, with a bar of soap. While all that may be very well and true, the real truth is we are being programed and persuasively coerced to act and think in ways to our detriment.

In Buddhism there are 3 Worldly Poisons: Greed; Ill Will; and Delusion, all of which if indulged in, are the source of suffering, and lack of peace in the world. As an aside, you gotta love Buddhism, cause they have  lists for everything. There’s the 4 Noble Truths; the 8 Fold Path; 6 Sense Gates (they include the mind); the 5 Hindrances: 4 Divine Abodes (kinda sounds like a 50’s doo-wop group); and not to forget the 4 Worldly Winds; The 3 Fetters of Existence (a 60’s psychedelic band); and on and on. I’m just glad they didn’t throw in 10 Commandments, cause that would made things even crazier.

So…Are we being subject to 3 things that are poisoning us here in America…Damn right we are. Today, in the USA, (pretty nifty phrase) not only are these poisons abundant, but we’ve institutionalized them and made them sacred. Greed has be institutionalized by Wall Street, where it runs rampant. Our Military can spread Ill Will, at will, anywhere in the world with a push of a button ( watch out Mr Gaddafi ). And speaking about this whole Libyan adventure, is it just me? Or are we witnessing the same worn out tactics with this new middle east “Boogie Man”, what with ‘a no fly zone’, “limited” military action, cruise missiles shooting off???  Naw, there’s no weapons of mass destruction this time around; just a Libyan population that could be massively destroyed if we don’t intervene. Is Delusion filling the airways once again? Be it from Fox to MSNBC to the White House. The media controls what we see, and can manipulate how we feel.

Let’s look at this whole Budget crisis we have in the States. Assuredly, Uncle Sam’s financial house is not in order, and something needs to be done. My feeling is, just like the whole September 11th Crisis , we are being brainwashed to think in a manner that’s only gonna cause more pain. Now the crisis isn’t “Terrorists” (although that one is rolled out occasionally to scare the shit out of us). It’s the Financial Crisis, and it looks like the extreme right wing is gonna take another scoop out of our liberties and freedom, just like they did with the Patriot Act. This time they’re after Unions and collective bargaining; which will destroy the middle class.

Here’s where the 3 Poisons really start to kick in. Delusion is being cranked up via the media, and our politicians, in order to further the greed of some, which is gonna cause a lot of ill will for many. The Budget Crisis delusion: We just can’t raise taxes, let alone tax the wealthy, it would destroy the economy and nothing would trickle down to us lowly peons. If you’re having a personal financial crisis, yeah, you gotta cut spending, but getting a second job or more income, would go a long way to solve the problem. We’re screwed as long as Taxing the wealthy is sacrosanct.

So what’s left? Cut everything that benefits the middle class. I know, sounds conspiratorial, and I’m not into conspiracy theories (mainly because nobody can keep their big mouths shut long enough for anything to become conspiratorial), but I do know that Greed, Delusion, and Ill Will are powerful forces, and poisoning our country and how we treat one another.

Japanese earth quakes, tsunamis, nuclear plant meltdowns, another adventure in the Middle East.  We’re doomed; the end is near. Have a nice day.  I will, now that this rant is out of me.

Money

Yea….Money. It’s what makes the world go round. Or is that Love that makes the world go around? Well this isn’t going to be a ‘How to make money on the Internet’ type of post. As far as I can tell, not many people are. Except those selling products on how to make money on the Internet through Blogging.

You can tell I’m not making a dime, and probably for good reason. No, this is about the two most classic rock songs about the subject. Mainly Barrett Strong’s version and Pink Floyd’s.  Barrett Strong released his song “Money” way back in 1960. Written by Berry Gordy of  Motown fame. It was a raw and desperate R&B rocker bout a guy who just needs money. The song became a standard, and was covered by The Kingsmen and even The Beatles. Pink Floyd’s version, well, was…… Pink Floyd. Who are having a profound effect on me now 🙂

Here in the United $tates, money is everything. And the people who are making money, are the ones selling information on how to make money to those in Barret Strong’s category. I was up early, and as sure as shit, there were Infomercials on cable, featuring just that. Usually it’s about real estate, and some geek in glasses, telling ya how you too can buy houses for no money, and make millions. I always ask myself, “If they’re making so damn much money, why are they now selling books about it instead of doing it themselves, and just saying ‘screw everyone else’.

So everybody is possessed with the notion, desire, greed, drive, lust to make money. Cause although “The best things in life are free, You can give em to the birds and bees. I need money.” Yep. We need money to achieve happiness. However, “money do get everything, it’s true. But what it do get, I can use. I need money”.

It’s the driving force in America. “Money, get a way; get a good job with good pay and you’re okay.” Simple as that. Why? Because “money, its a gas” We need to “grab that cash with both hands and make a stash”. The downfall is the obsession with money, and the need to protect this asset of happiness. So if you’re talking about MY money. “Get back. I’m alright Jack, keep your hands off of my stack.”

Well both of those songs said it well, and pretty much captured, some of our concepts of money. In case you’re not familiar with Barrett’s version, check it out on U tube ( Couldn’t link it.  Evil record companies).   And, FYI, this whole post was written while listening to Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side Off The Moon “ album. You can U-tube that one yourself should you choose.

Snooki

Snooki, rhymes with nookie. Enough said. I can end this post right here.   A haiku of trash. If you’ve just arrived on planet earth, you may be asking yourself who the hell is Snooki?; and depending on the evolution of your alien sex organs, may also be asking, “What is Nookie?” Well they’re one and the same.

Snooki is the 23 year old “reality” star of the MTV show Jersey Shore, a show which features a household of east coast slime balls, who are hornier than hell, and trying to get in each others pants on a weekly basis. Do they have jobs? Well yes, if you call getting layed employment [wait a minute, isn’t that the worlds oldest profession??]

Anyway, I don’t watch this shit, but did when in Germany last Fall. It was one of the only things on German TV that was in English, so I watched it, German over dubbing and all. Made me proud to be an American it did. The Germans export fine cars; America exports trash ( apparently to an eager market).

This gal is so popular now, that she even made the cover of The Rolling Stone magazine.The cover of which inspired my drawing for my Tri Phoria lets Review post.   She’s now on a rocket ship ride to stardom, and for what? Basically being a little tramp, with questionable moral standards.  Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy some wholesome ‘sleeze’ just as much as the next guy. But talent? Maybe in areas my old heart can no longer take.

Having a 30 year old daughter, who has a career and two children, I just wonder what’s gonna happen to old Snook-a-lacious when she’s 40 years old and fat. Well the cynical Probation Officer in me thinks: she’ll probably have been divorced at least twice, have a slew of kids (and misdemeanor convictions), and be on welfare. But maybe I’m misjudging her, and her 15 minutes of fame will stretch into something like 20 or 25 minutes of fame.

I just don’t get it. And I do wish her the best. And this whole post is not really about her specifically, but about the “latest sensations” that sweep through the media and entertainment worlds and capture our imaginations. Now the Japan crisis is worthy of our imagination, but scary; the Snookster, not so much .  I’d rather dwell upon Snooki/nookie than nuclear meltdowns.

So, what’s this latest sensation all about?  I guess old Muddy Waters said it best in his song “The Same Thing” I’ll let Muddy take it from here….

Tri Phoria, let’s Review

Last year, way back in early December, I did a post on “Tri Phoria, Men Are Doomed”. Well it’s languished in the Archives for a long time, but has consistently gotten views on a weekly basis. Maybe because Tri Phoria is the latest personal vibrator from the folks at Trojan [you know, the company that makes those condoms everybody hates to use, but does so, especially when traveling in well charted, yet dangerous territories which may require doubling up so you don’t hit a sexually transmitted ice berg and go down like the Titanic].

My guess is, either I’m just a great writer and humorist, and people are just starting to find out about me and read everything I’ve ever written. Or, there’s a lot of single, lonely, and wee bit horny, women out there, and they want to know if the thing really works, cause they have their credit cards handy, and are willing to pay for express shipping.

It’s probably the later, but if ya got something workin’ for you, ya might as well beat it into the ground (fore if a little is good, a lot has got to be even better). And anyway its a good way to recycle earlier stuff when ya come up short. Nobody will notice in this land of Attention Deficit Disorder, we call the Blog O Sphere. So here’s a Review of Tri Phoria….Not the actual product, but of my December post on the subject. How the Hell should I know if a Female Vibrator is any good???

So talking about beating stuff into the ground. Tri Phoria is a personal vibrator just for women. I saw a lengthy ad just before Christmas last year, which featured a group of young “ladies” at a faux bridal shower. And what were they giving this bride to be ( dressed with white veil, and highly revealing cleavage)?? Toasters, cook books, linen??   Hell no!!!  They were giving her Tri Phoria personal vibrators, along with testimonials how it would “Blow Your Hair Back”. These little tramps, didn’t all chip in and buy her just one. No, she got 2 or 3; just for back-up I guess.

You just got to see this for yourself to believe it , So I’ve embedded the ad right here, for your edification. Enjoy

Didn’t ya just love those horny little harlots raving on about this substitute schwance?   Tri Phoria comes with three different attachments, to get You Phoriating three ways. And with two AA batteries, can provide up to 30 minutes of continuous use, unless of course you’re a little whore who keeps it turned to 10 the whole time. But the bottom line is: Men are Doomed. And….easily replaced with a product, that will out preform just about every one of us who is not a professional porn star.

If you watched the video to the bitter end, you’ve noticed the would be groom getting just as excited about her gifts as nympho fiance.  He says, “Sweeet”.   I know he’s an actor, and probably gay, but I just can’t understand a man going along with a dildo as wedding gift, let alone three of them.  Go figure.  All I can guess is “Oh boy! one for each of our orifices.”

The Repeat Offender

OK, it shameless, flat-out, have you no pride, self promotion time, because my other blog,   The Blithering Idiot, has failed to bring me instant fame, let alone acclaim.   [Could it be that there is just little demand for crudely written, vulgar poetry?]  I’m really into 50’s rock and roll, and still have the first 45 I ever bought: Yakety Yak by the Coasters. This was a little diddie I planned to post on The Idiot, but felt it worthy of Hansifcation. It combines The Platters hit “The Great Pretender” with my career as a crime fighter.

It’s called, what else? The Repeat Offender. If you’re not familiar with the tune, meaning you’re under 60, you can U Tube it below, to bring ya up to speed.

Oh yes, I’m the repeat offender

Offending when you’re not around

My greed is such

I offend too much

I’m lonely, sittin’ here, in my cell

Oh yes, I’m the repeat offender

Adrift in a cell of my own

I’ve played the game

but much to my shame

And I’m left here, with my sins to atone.

To steal, is the feeling of a master thief

To steal, when I feel, I can deceive

Oh yes, I’m the repeat offender

Just laughing at you like a clown

I appear to be, what you don’t wanna see

Stealin’ everything that is not nailed down.

Re-offending when you’re not around.

To steal, is the feeling of a master thief

To steal, when I feel, I can deceive.

Yes, I’m a repeat offender

Just hating, my life here, in lock-down

I seem to be, in a cell, you see

I’m waiting to be, taken downtown,

For taking everything that’s around.

Damn

Damn!   I woke up this morning, and what did I find?  This wonderful note from my wife.  Daylight Savings Time.

Damn…I’m late already, and it ain’t my fault.  There’s a conspiracy out there to screw with my mind, and totally upset all the order in my life.  One might ask,  “Hansi, what the hell are You late for?  Your ancient ass is retired, you don’t have to go to work.   All ya do is wake up,  get loaded and crank out bullshit on your stupid-ass blog”.

Well, that may be very well be true; and I’d like to thank the tax payers of California, the tax payers in the United States, and Jesus for affording me this ‘lavish’ lifestyle.  But still, I have a routine, not to mention followers to keep happy, and being an hour late puts a lot of pressure on me.  How am I gonna fit in an hour nap around noon, when it’s 1:00 already?

The only saving grace is, changing digital clocks an hour forward, requires only a single click of the hour button, rather that 12 or 13 to go backwards like we gotta do in the Fall. “Spring forward-Fall back” has saved my butt many a time.

I suppose I’ll adjust.  Maybe I’ll start with my attitude.  Enjoy daylight Savings; I’m going outside for an attitude adjustment.

 

Jump In His Shit

Well, I’ve been gleaning the fields of advice columns again, and found this cow-pie; entitled, “Hands out of the bucket”

Dear Fannie: We live in a community made up of mostly retired couples who rotate having dinner parties. One of the men in our group seems unable to keep his hands out of the ice bucket. His usual routine is to remove the ice tongs, stir the ice around with his hand, and then lift some into his and his wife’s glass.

We’ve told him that this is unsanitary, but it seems to go over his head. When filling my glass after him, I will often go to the refrigerator to get ice, and he always says, “There’s still ice in the bucket.”

His latest procedure is to announce to the whole room that he washed his hands before coming over. Then he dives into the ice bucket. Are we expecting too much? Two ice buckets; one for him, one for everyone else?

Concerned in Connecticut

My God! How insensitive. What a Coot. Has this man no common decency? Give me a break…..before you go running off to join an insensitivity support group. I’ll tell ya how to handle a piece of work like this old geezer. And it’s not with a lot of enabling bullshit, which the columnist though appropriate: “Fill every one’s glass with ice Before dinner; or put a spoon in the bucket, maybe he has arthritis or something”.

What a load of crap.. What you gotta do is Jump In His Shit! Ream him a new one! I first heard the term “jump in your shit” during Army Basic Training. That was one of the Drill Sargent’s favorite ways of modifying a recruits behavior, because if the recruit didn’t quickly comply, he’d be in “a world of hurt”. Now, I got to admit that there have been times when I wouldn’t have minded if some individual took a head first dive into a pile of my dung; but being in a world of hurt is something no one wants to be in. The one we got is bad enough already.

So Mr Concerned, if you don’t want this guy’s hand in the bucket, you gotta JUMP IN HIS SHIT. I’d slap his hand with the damn tongs and say something like, “What the Hell are you doing?? Get your raggedy-ass hand out the bucket or it might be the one you kick. I know you Washed your hands, but have you washed the stinky ass stuff yo hands been touching? I don’t want no dingle-berries or pubic hairs in MY drink” Get the idea? You really unload on this codger, and give him a piece of your mind. Something that won’t go over his head. You gotta Jump In His Shit.

Now , if “Ice Bucket” is a metaphor for something a little more….personal (like what’s in your pants or senior citizen hanky panky), well then….my reply would be totally different. In fact. What would be totally different is to re-read the original letter, but instead of “Ice Bucket”, you supply your own favorite word for your you know what. Go ahead… It’s not having a dirty mind, it being ‘creative’. No dirty minds = No Limericks

There’s nothing better that I seem to adore

Than a tale bout some dirty old whore.

How she’s nasty and raw

And breaking the law,

And keeps the boys them screamin’ for more.

Marriage

This is going to be my Opus, my masterpiece of blogging, it’s my comprehensive treatise on Marriage. Now, a word of warning to all my male readers. Don’t let the wife catch you reading this shit! Read it in private, or do so with a blanket over your head and computer screen [kinda like ya do when visiting a questionable website that asks if you are over 18 before entering, and ya don’t want the wife to find out]. This isn’t gonna be XXX rated, so you can keep you hand on the computer mouse, instead of the bald one that resides in your trousers.

Also, before you start to call me an old pervert, keep in mind that I’ve been married for over 40 years. I know something about the subject, and have been married far longer than I’ve been an old pervert.

Point #1: Marriage as we know it today, is not Biblical, and a far cry from the institution portrayed in the Holy Scriptures. Betty Bowers, “America’s Best Christian”, says it far more eloquently than I, so watch the video. Go on…do it. Just click on the little triangle…it won’t hurt. You’ll love it!


Well Betty pretty much nailed it with that one. So why is the church involved? It’s just like government. They want to regulate marriage so they can cash in, not to mention keep their followers in line. You’re far more likely to keep those tithes and offerings rollin’ in, if you fear eternal punishment for bailing out of your marriage. Personally, when it comes to offerings to the Lord, I prefer to give directly to God, rather than through a mere representative. Here’s what I do: I take a wad of dollar bills, throw them up in the air, and utter a brief prayer “ Lord, takest what Thy want.” Everything that falls back to earth is mine, the rest is the Lords.

Point #2: Marriage never happens at a convenient time. I got married at age 22, but I could have used it more at age 15, than I need now at age 63.

Point #3: Marriage is a loosing proposition. It’s a given fact that 50% of marriages will fail. With odds like that, it’s little more than a crap-shoot, not something you’d want to get totally invested in.

Point #4; Marriage is expensive. There’s not much in start-up costs, just a license, the cost of which ranges somewhere between what it takes to make your dog Rover legal to a Liquor license. It’s getting out of business that’s expensive. If you can’t get a good lawyer, you could loose half your assets, not to mention your ass itself.

Here’s a few truisms about marriage, one may want to consider before committing yourself to that institution:

Men want three qualities in a wife: Economist in the kitchen; artist in the home; and a devil in bed. What they get is: an artist in the kitchen; a devil at home; and an economist in bed.

Getting married is very much like going to a restaurant with friends. You order what you want, and then when you see what the others have, you wish you had ordered that.

Well it’s a good thing my wife refuses to read my blog. She thinks it’s degrading, and that I am humiliating her in front of the whole world. Wonder what my Alexa score would be if that was true??

A Love Meaning For Hansi

OK, my son Bad Deacon was home for the weekend, and we begot to talkin’ about blogging. FYI: he was the guy that set me up in the blog0sphere with my Word Press site, which you are reading right now. Don’t thank me. Thank my Bad Son. Anyway, he suggested writing down titles, for use as future blog fodder.

When going over my stats, and checking out where some of my traffic was coming from via Google searches, this one popped out at me: “I want a love meaning for Hansi”. I’m not shitting you!  it’s True…. So I Googled that phrase, and got First Page placement right after some stuff about love songs and before Hansi Ministries (of which I have no affiliation whatsoever). Check it out; but don’t click on Hansi Ministies, unless you want to get saved. Anyway, you probably have no interest whatsoever in getting saved if you’re reading my crap. What could I say but, “Thank you Jesus.” And thank you Son.

A love meaning for Hansi?? OK, Big deal. So one poor sap Googles some dumb shit, and I show up on the search [it works for me].. But this idiot went to my site, and oh my gawd, I hope he or she was surprised. I’ve got the Hansi niche down pat.; and according to my blogging buddy Bill Murney, a niche is what you want to carve out for yourself. Therefore, I will not hesitate to take advantage of this fool and shamelessly make light of his quest, by broadening my Hansi niche with this little number.

I wrote this song a long time ago when I was in a garage band with a bunch of my 40 year old peers. It’s called:  “The Doctor of Love”.

No other woman, no other man

Is as great a lover, as I am

I could make ya happy, I could make you sad

I could be the best thing, you ever had.

I’m not asking you to commit a sin.

Just try a little dose of my medicine.

Cause I’m the Doctor of Love, and I’ll cure all your ills

I got a great big bag of good luvin’ pills.

I’ve been to love college, got my PHD.

So if ya need some luvin’, I’m the man to see.

If you got the fever, or feelin’ blue

There’s gonna be something , I can do.

Just give me a ring,  or come on in

I’ll give ya a dose of my medicine.

All ya gotta do is take my advice,

If it don’t work at first, you gotta try it twice.

Well I hope that poor romantic fool found his love meaning for Hansi. If not, I got one ready made for him. And if they take my advice, they’ll try it more than twice.

The Struwwel Peter Principal

You’ve all no doubt heard of the Peter Principle; which states that “In a company hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence“. Well, being of good German descent, I figure there’s got to be a Struwwel-Peter Principal : If anything can go wrong because of one’s actions it will end up disastrously for them. [If you haven’t read the previous post on Struwwelpeter, go back and read it; this stuff’ll make much more sense].

And like rising to one’s level of incompetence; likewise the more stupid and idiotic your behavior, the more hazardous the consequences. And take my word for it, Germans know just how disastrous stupid behavior can be.  Just like in “Die Geschichte vom Suppen-Kaspar” (The Story of Soup-Kaspar) where young Kaspar, a healthy, strong boy, proclaims that he will no longer eat his soup; and over the next five days, wastes away and dies. So much for 19 th century German hunger strikes. Bottom line: refusing to eat can kill ya so don’t be picky about your food, cause nobody gives a shit and you’ll starve to death.

Another one, and it’s my favorite is:”Die Geschichte von Hans Guck-in-die-Luft” (The Story of Hansi Head-in-Air, and NOT a story about me taking a dump in someones upstairs loft). It’s about a boy who habitually fails to watch where he’s walking. One day he walks into a river; he is soon rescued, but his backpack full of belongings drifts away. Today we’d call it something like Hansi Head Up His Ass , and it’d be about a guy who lost his shirt in the recent stock market crash because he took up blogging instead of watching the Market.

See, if you’re not paying attention, and letting your mind drift, or worse yet, doing something risky or anti-social, well you can get wiped out. Take Phillip In “Die Geschichte vom Zappel-Philipp” (The Story of Fidgety Philip), a boy who won’t sit still at dinner and accidentally knocks all of the food onto the floor, to his parents’ great displeasure. What is not mentioned is that the family was taking care of Bad Fredricks dog [a violent boy terrorizes animals and people. Eventually he is bitten by a dog, who goes on to eat the boy’s sausages while he is bedridden]. So the evil dog not only eats up all the families food and they starve to death, but goes on to bite little Phil’s wiener off.

Now my former probation clients could have certainly benefited from the Struwwel-Peter Principle and avoided a whole lot of suffering. Take the story of Larry mit der cocaine ger-using addiction. Larry got so blasted on crack one night that he got a little paranoid and thought he heard burglars in his attic. He called 911, and the police responded. They didn’t find any burglars (the attic being little more than a crawl space), but the cops did find Lorenzo under the influence, and in possession of drugs, and hauled his ass off to jail. There’s danger in even getting high. Go figure.

The moral: If you do dumb shit, and act like a fool, it could be disastrous.  And although God may forgive you, nature won’t, so wake up and don’t step in any cosmic dog doo.


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