mind expanding nonsense

Archive for June, 2011

Love Rockets

I found a business card at the Gym, and on it was a graphic of a cowgirl straddling a banner waving her hat. Wow, what a loaded picture. It impressed me so much, I took the card home and drew from it, placing her on a rocket instead. Had to name it Love Rocket, for again that name conjures up potent visual and metaphorical images, with a mix of sensuality and raw power.

Most men will no doubt think of a Love Rocket as their wee wees. And rightly so. Rockets are equated with power. Phallic in nature; thrusting head on to new heights. Add love, with sensuality and desire thrown in, and this symbol becomes the ultimate expression of manhood. Male energy. [This isn’t going where ya might think, so hold on].

But a cow-girl riding a rocket? I don’t know. Maybe she’s just a fun loving gal, going along for a wild ride. Or, instead of the bucking bronco, maybe she’s riding it more like a well trained horse. A big powerful animal between her legs, yet in full control of where things are going: Female Energy

It sure seems like everything in our society is being driven by male energy. Business, Politics, and especially entertainment.. The females we see are sexy and hot, but exhibit an aggressive, pushy, thrusting-like behavior. Take Sarah Palin. She’s hot, attractive, and a real “attack dog” type of female politician (please Sarah run; it’d be so much fun). A real ‘American Woman’. Well, not really. I see her as male energy packaged into pencil skirt, lipstick and a nice rack. She’s one of the most aggressive businessmen out there, shamelessly promoting her own brand, to inflate her already large ego . She does hide behind the feminine when her critics fire back, when she doesn’t want to take any flack, or responsibility for what she says.

So here’s the point. This world of ours is dominated by just too much male energy. There’s no balance. If ya step back and take a look at it; and this may be an invitation to step into my mind for a bit, ya just might find that there could be an alternative universe out there worthy of pursuit. So come on in , but watch your step, it’s slippery inside.

For an alternative to this present day madness, you gotta go to the Goddess for answers. Quan Yin, the goddess of compassion and mercy would be a nice start. Along with Sophia, goddess of wisdom and intuitive knowledge; highly sought after by the ancients. Mary, the immaculate mother is another one, but she’s been taken hostage by men and her true nature stripped away. Once the Great Goddess, Mother of All, she’s now the property of men, but strangely still worshiped for what she really is. Oh yeah, can’t forget Eros or Venus, goddess of love. From which comes the word erotic; eroticism having as much to do with the mind and imagination than pure sensuality. Nothing like the male dominated counterfeit: pornography.

Romantic notions? Maybe. But things would certainly be much different in this world is these figures were revered, and looked to as the personification of our highest of ideals . This whole female energy thing is hard to describe, because it’s so alien to our culture. But it’s powerful, yet not harsh; loving, not demanding; nurturing and patient. Bringing about change by example and teaching. Embracing all, and in Harmony with all. The source from which comes all life.

Well, there ya have it; a nice little fantasy. “Well Hansi” some might say. “You sure had a big helping of medication; that was a real 60’s flashback.” Perhaps. But it’s fun to pretend. And if I’m gonna be in my own little world, that one seems like a pretty nice place to be.

Looking For Love

I love old rock and roll song lyrics.  Especially idiotic ones that I’ve written myself.  If you’ve Googled “Looking for love” in the hopes of finding true love,  you’re in the wrong spot.  But maybe this little ditty will keep your dirty mind off  sex for a while.  Maybe not.

I’ve climbed over mountains

I’ve searched through the trees

I’m lookin’ for my baby

I’ve searched the seven seas

Lookin’ for my baby.  Yeah… I’m lookin’ for love.

Through the deepest of forests

Through the thickest of trees

Through the burning burning desert

Crawling on my knees.

Lookin’ for my baby.  Yes… I’m lookin’ for love.

I went to see the guru

To see if she was there.

I rented myself a space ship

But soon ran out of air

Lookin’ for my baby.  Yeah… I’m lookin’ for love.


Well there ya have it and there it is.  What’s really cool, besides this being an epic song about mankind’s desire to find love, but usually in all the wrong places, is that I discovered a new drawing medium.  Crayola “Twistables” colored pencils.  The grandsons were over for the weekend, and the Wife pulled these out.  Logan, the three year old, scribbled the above, and grandpa took over from there.

If ya want to hear the really good version of “Looking For A Love”  check-out the Valentinos 1962 hit featuring Bobby Womack.  Evil You Tube changed things so this link takes ya there.

The Valentinos  “I’m Looking For A Love“.

Soliciting Alms

I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed a growing number of alms solicitors on just about every street corner in my town.  And this is in a fairly prosperous part of Southern California [NOT Orange County, but the northern part of southern California].   I know times are tough, but this is being driven home by the multitude of people openly begging on the streets. “Hard times in the land of plenty; some got it all and the rest ain’t got any” sang Omar Dykes.

I love the term “soliciting alms” for it has a more noble sound than just “begging”.  In fact one might even say that alms solicitation is the second oldest profession in the world.  If ya don’t have the merchandise to sell, you gotta beg.  Is begging becoming the new American ‘growth industry’?  Would seem like it to me.

Gotta throw in some of my crime fighting chops here.  In California, where almost everything is legal, begging is illegal, but only if one “accosts other persons in any public place for the purpose of begging or solicitation of alms”.  Panhandling is “any solicitation made in person, in which an individual requests an immediate donation of money.”  That does not include persons passively standing or sitting with signs, or singing or playing music, with a sign requesting donations.

Gotta stay on the right side of the law.  You  could get fined is ya don’t.  So the key to a  successful (and a crime free) career in Alms Requesting, is to not accost or vocalize anything.  “Can ya spare any change?”…totally illegal.  Sign with “Homeless, anything will help.  Rot in hell you fucker if ya don’t give me money.”  Perfectly legal and Penal Code compliant.

I had an old mental health (bi-polar/alcoholic) probation client who would make a ton of money Panhandling.  Being eighty years old, he had a line wherein he’d go up to people and tell them that he was lost, had no money, and could you help him out with buss fare to get back to his rest home in the next city.  How could ya resist a story like that.  He’d feign thanks, and proceed to the nearest tavern and get smashed.

So.  What do ya do.  Ignore these folks or give.  Many people would like to give, but with strings attached.  “I ‘ll give you money for food, but not alcohol”.  That’s understandable, but if you’ve ever seen a real chronic alcoholic with the “shakes”, dehydrated, and unable to eat or even stomach water, you know a drink is the only thing that will end that person’s immediate suffering.   Sad state to be in. I’ve found that just giving someone a buck, without expecting anything in return has it’s own rewards.  This may seem selfish, but it makes me feel good…and richer too.  What works for you?

Men and Women

Here’s a couple of drawings I did in late 1969, just after graduating from college. They had no titles then.  Now I just call them Men and Women.  You can figure out which is which.  You can also determine for yourself if there are any additional messages hidden therein.

For me, there’s no conscious meaning or message in these things.  I think that at the time I was more curious about repeating figures in order to create a sense of depth and space.  That’s not to say there couldn’t be some real Freudian shit going on in there 🙂

Ripe For Ridicule

Something new here at Hallucinations, a new award, or maybe a new category. “Ripe for Ridicule”. I have a special place in my heart for dumb shits. They put my kids through college and provided me with a 30 year career in Corrections, and now even a comfortable (but by no means lavish) retirement. In appreciation, I would like to acknowledge those dumb shits who I consider Ripe for Ridicule.

Now I don’t intend to be mean spirited, god knows there’s plenty of that goin’ around. And I’m not going after the ignorant, cause if you’re ignorant, you just don’t know any better till someone tells ya otherwise. But After you find out, and still act with ignorance, then you move into the dumb-shit category. A prolonged stay as a dumb shitland could cause you to stumble into the lowest realm of all: the stupid mother-phucker kingdom, from which there is seldom any return.

Those who I consider Ripe for Ridicule, usually have a weak grasp upon reality, are fools, or are living a life of shear delusion. Not being ignorant dumb shits or stupid mother-phuckers, those ripe for ridicule should know better, but apparently refuse to face the facts about their situation.

So who’s my first recipient??? None other than Mr Playboy himself, Hugh Hefner! Seems like Mr Hefner, age 85, (did you say eighty fucking five?) was dumped by his 25 year old bride to be Crystal Harris, just days before their wedding. Ms Harris had a “change of heart” and bailed on the “Hef”. And the Hefmiester, being a vindictive old fart, having featured his new bride on the latest cover of Playboy Magazine, introducing her as “America’s Princess…Mrs Crystal Hefner”, [his idea of a wedding gift, and no doubt featured in the centerfold spread as well] is seeking revenge by affixing “Runaway Bride” stickers over her image on his latest issue.  I know, ya try and do something nice like showing off your latest “spread” and it turns around and bites ya in the ass; poor Hef.

A change of Heart?? Me thinks Ms Harris had a moment of clarity, and money notwithstanding, realizing what kind of future she’d have with an 85 year old man, used Hef’s ass for what it was forth (a lot of money). OK, maybe the future she had in mind was after Hugh passed on to that Big Mansion in the Sky. No virgins there.

And Hugh….What the hell was he thinking? At 85 does he still believe in his own myth???  Granted he was the icon for the sexual revolution, but Hello…Earth to Grandpa . “Who the hell do you think you’re impressing by marrying a 25 year old ???”  And furthermore, what does he think he has in common with a 25 year old woman; except unbridled ambition, desire for fame, and a willingness to show off and do anything for money.  At 85, folks shouldn’t be making long term commitments; but should either lease or rent by the month.  And with his money, he could rent as much of that young poontang as he wants. Why the hell  marry it? 

So old “Hef” was used by a woman.  Turn around is fair play, they say. And he  probably doesn’t have much “heft” left, now that he’s empty handed and broken hearted.  What an old fool. And I do feel sorry for him.  Still leaves him Ripe For Ridicule.

Good Advice

I love advice columns cause the columnist’s  advice usually sucks, with the lives of the advice seekers sucking even more and leaving them ripe for ridicule. Thought I’d have a little fun with this actual letter, and give it a thorough Hansi treatment with all thirty years of my background in Corrections thrown in. Hey. It worked for felons, it can work for this chick.

Dear Hansi: I am in my late 50’s, divorced, with a career that spans 30 years. I have been successful in my life with one exception – relationships.

I have been with “Ted” for more than seven years. The first half was good, but the second half has been a constant struggle. The problems began when Ted retired at age 55. His addictions flourished – excessive drinking, credit card spending and Internet usage. The problem is, Ted has too much time on his hands and nothing constructive to keep him busy. He is border-line bipolar, and when he drinks, he becomes difficult to be around. Ted also suffers from erectile dysfunction, which causes sexual and emotional imbalances in our relationship.

I have asked Ted to get help with his addictions, but he refuses. I have sought counseling on my own to help cope with this situation, and I returned to church looking for answers. I love Ted, but his behavior over the past four years has been a huge turn off. Is this relationship beyond repair? Signed Bewildered in Vermont.

Let’s see now, Ms Vermont Bewilderment. A thirty year career (with a divorce in there), successful but bad at relationships. Bet you even like “working with people”. What Probation Department do you work in??? You sound like just about every female co-worker I’ve ever know. Earth to Vermont: you have the problem… Not Ted!

Sounds like you’re just pissed that he got to retire earlier than you. You’re jealous. My god woman. Ted had the good sense to quit and get the hell out. Do you like shit eating so much ya just gotta stay. Or maybe you gotta keep working because you didn’t make the correct financial plans that Ted did!  The Man just got done working his ass off for who knows how many years, and now he just wants to mellow out with a drink here and there; buy the stuff he’s always wanted, but put on hold; and mess around on the computer. Not being busy or constructive is called Retirement, not “borderline bipolar”. How can one almost be manic or depressive?? Get real.

And about his ‘erectile dysfunction’. Let me tell ya a little secret. He’s not using that Internet for blogging or something; he’s going to porn sites.  And them hands of his haven’t been all that idle. He doesn’t have reptile dysfunction; he has reptile fatigue. And you coming home fried and immediately jumping in his shit is not a big turn-on either. No wonder the man wants a drink. He’s the one trying to Cope!

And you ask why he refuses to change. He doesn’t have “addictions”, he has ‘pastimes’ which he can now, in retirement, finally devote his full attention to. I do think however that you are headed in the right direction with church. If your not having “your needs net”, you need another man on the side. And what better place to find one then at church? That’s the answer.  I don’t think your relationship is beyond repair; it just needs a little “tune-up.”

Well there you have it.  Non-biased, non-personal, objective advice.  No wonder I had a thirty year career in Corrections.  I’m good at correcting people…. It comes naturally.  Well…maybe there’s just a tiny little bit of my biases thrown in 🙂

Lying Sack Of Shit

I love that term.  It’s an oldie and has a kinda retro feel to it.  But it also has a strong meaning to it, inferring that the one lying is doing so intentionally and with contempt; the object being to deceive, but in a manner obvious to all.  This is not to be confused with the other lying sack of shit.  A shit sack that’s been laid down somewhere, probably because whoever did so was a Lazy Sack Of Shit.

Now in Probationland we were especially fond of describing people as cloth containers filled with refuse.  Dirt-bag was a favorite, along with Scumbag.  I think Dirt-bag was more like a generic term for clients, and scumbag a more specific description.  Scumbag was the worst, because, well dirt is dirt, but Scum…yuk!  that’s like yukkie on top of yuk.

Back to Lying Sacks of Shit.  There a beneficial sacks of shit, suck as the two cubic foot bag of steer manure I bought to spread on my garden.  My tomatoes, green beans and carrots really eat that stuff up.  But the Evil Lying Sacks of Shit try to mimic manure, by spreading their lies and hoping that all of us will eat it up, and without question.  Now that’s bad.

I think it’s in politics where most of the Shit Sacks are lying around.  One of my favorites is Newt Gingrich.  Old Newt has told some whoppers in his day, and he’s back!  Sadly, he’s not now spreading lies, but the truth, and eating shit as a result.  Old Newt rightfully said Rep. Paul Ryan’s plan to turn Medicare into a voucher program was an extreme right-wing attempt at social engineering.  Right on Newt.  Sorry it didn’t fly too well with the Extreme Right.  There’s always 2016.

Arnold, my former governor, could be accused of being a LSOS for living a lie for ten years, what with fornicating the help and then having an child with her.  But I can’t really blame Arnold the Sperminator totally.  Everybody knew who/what Arnold was before we elected him in a re-call election.  It’s the people of California who are dumb sacks of shit for thinking he’s changed or could even govern.  Movies are usually pretend.

US Representative Anthony Weiner.  Caught putting questionable stuff on Face Book.  With a name like Weiner, you never post a picture of your wiener for everyone to see, and then claim someone hacked into your account.  My god!  didn’t he learn anything from a childhood of being mercilessly teased about his last name?  I like his politics.  He’s still a Lying Sack of Shit; and a dumb one at that!

I could go on and on about who I feel worth of the distinction:  Lying Sack Of Shit.  But my intent is not to create a “Bandini Mountain” on this blog, but let you have a rip at it.  Anyone you feel worthy?


I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to go to Lone Pine in the eastern California Sierras.  I go there to yank cold-blooded creatures out of their natural environment. Taking advantage of their voracious appetites and fascination with bright, flashy shining objects, I tempt them with food wherein are hidden barbed hooks, with which I snare them and suffocate them in a hostile atmosphere,  for the sole purpose of consuming their flesh.  This fiendish pursuit is more commonly known as fishing.  And eating fresh State of California Department of Fish and Game recently planted rainbow trout is sumptuous delight.

Well, the fishing was good, and so were the hallucinations.  These three pages from my psychedelic journal chronicle the event and are posted for your edification



There you have it and there it is.  I was looking over this post and realized: damn, I have an issue with work.   I think more fishing and less work is the answer.  Hallucinations optional.

Five Six Seven Eight

Well, One Two Three Four was such a big success, and saved me from having to dream up something really creative, that I thought I’d continue on with the drawing countdown I was working on in an old sketch book.  These were earlier drawings, that I’m now showing later, cause they preceded the first four, but now follow them.  If this makes no sense whatsoever, then you’re probably in the right frame of mind to fully enjoy them.

All I can think of is:  “It’s my party and I can sit here naked if I wanna.”

Hands are difficult for me to draw; too many bones, too many moving parts.  This one should have been number five, cause most of us have five fingers.   But I didn’t  think of that at the time and had to sneak in an extra digit somewhere.

“Another nude?

Hell yes.  Seven is my lucky number.

“Who’s your model for that one?”

Not the wife!

Think I had a drawing book from the Library that had nudes in them, so I drew from that.

“Is that all you ever think about?”

Pretty much.



I also usually don’t  never have naked gay men standing around in my living room.  Not that I have anything against gay men.  I’d just prefer they run around naked in their living rooms, not mine.  I wouldn’t touch alternative life-styling with an eight foot pole.

Quan Yin

Quan Yin is the Buddhist goddess of compassion and mercy.

Perhaps her female energy is what’s needed in this day and age of testosterone run a muck.   Compassion is the human emotion of empathy and sympathy for the suffering of others.  The English noun compassion means “to suffer together with.”  There’s sure a lot of suffering going on in this world.  If we suffer together with those who are hurting, we can feel their pain as our own and act accordingly.

Pity, the ‘near enemy’ of compassion [masquerading as compassion; close but no cigar] allows us to marginalize those suffering, projecting the cause of their suffering as being something they purposely brought upon them selves, and  therefore deserving of its full consequences. The practice of acting with compassion brings out our shared humanness, and brings with it happiness.


I love kids art.  They are very expressive and just let it rip with no concern for composition, proportion, or any other  elements of art.  Plus, they’re usually having a lot of fun doing it and go through reams of paper cranking out everything from monsters to family portraits (sometimes not much of a difference).

Very young children like my three year old grandson Logan, lack the fine motor skills to really ‘draw” and scribble instead.  That’s because instead of using their fingers and wrists, their movement comes from the elbow, hence the jagged back and forth sharks-teeth look to their drawings.

Logan did the below drawing.  Grandpa touched it up a little bit in his own hallucinogenic version of photo-shop.  So this is the result of that joint combined effort.  I’m sure this is what he had on his mind when he did it.

“Good drawing Logan”.

Now the eight year old grandson Branden has the fine motor skills. And an ability to draw.  He’s also into sculpture.  He’s not quite ready for a block of marble, but he can sure crank out figures with paper , scissors, and crayons.  Logan got in on the action on this one too.  Two distinctive styles, again with some  influence from grandpa.

You can sure tell these kids got talent.  Maybe they’ll even follow in Granpa’s footsteps.  Welll…maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idiea.

Four Noble Truths of Hallucinations

Back in the day when I was still fighting crime, a lot of my mental health clients suffered from hallucinations. Not the visual hallucinations which I’m so fond of and try to emulate in my drawings, but auditory hallucinations. You could always tell when they were hallucinating, because they would stop everything and just stand there frozen like they were listening to something. It was probably just the Devil yelling in their ear telling them to murder their parents or something like that. Meanwhile, I’d be yelling in their other ear telling them they’re goin’ to jail if they didn’t start taking their meds. Hey, they were schizophrenics and used to conflicting hallucinogenic messages.

Today, I thought I’d combine my Crime Fighting background with my Buddhist leanings and share with you The Four Noble Truths about Hallucinations:

Number 1: Life is a massive hallucination, and if you try to grab onto it, like it’s real, you’re gonna end up suffering. Can you really believe the shit that’s going on in the world today? Everybody is throwing their own ‘spin’ on events to get ya to think like they do. Take Fox News, their spin on the recent Egyptian Uprising was one of caliphs and Muslim fundamentalists taking over to unify in global jihad. MSNBC played up the democracy angle, and the people re-taking power and control over their lives.

Number 2: The cause of hallucinogenic suffering is desire (greed, lust, etc) and grasping onto that which is not real. Hey the cause of most of our own problems, is our own stupidity, and refusal to change. What’s that saying abut only a fool can repeat the same behavior over and over again and expect a different outcome? Dr Phil probably said that, but think about it: dumb shit = dumb results.

Number 3: There is an end to hallucinatory suffering. Damn right there is. Stop doing numbers 1 and 2, and you got a good head-start on reducing your consumption of shit eating. You mean it’s that simple? Duh…yes it’s that simple. If ya want to stay out of jail. Stop doing the stuff that gets ya locked-up. But….

Number 4: But that end consists of following a path of non-suffering. Kinda like a 12 step program, but with only 8 steps (it’s quicker that way). OK….here’s the hard part. You actually gotta do something. Like if ya want stay out of jail, ya gotta stop doing the stuff that gets you locked up. No magic pill, or delusion vaccine is out there. “Many causes for hallucinations, few remedies”. Charlie Chan said that.

Of course, if your whole Blog is about hallucinations and foolishness, you might want to ignore steps one through four (at your own peril). A clear view of reality only gets in the way sometimes. I much prefer living in Hansi-land as to anything else. How about you?

Just A Fantasy

OK…It’s true confession time, cause I’m gonna tell ya something about old Hansi that ya might not know.  Not only is he subject to an occasional hallucination, but he’s also given to entertaining fantasies.  You know, those momentary mind states when you live a pretend or imaginary life.  Nothing at all like crime fighting.  That’s more in the nightmare column.

The problem with fantasies is their transient and impermanent nature, which causes suffering when one attempts to hold onto or grasp them.  Kinda like the Buddhist term Samsara which is the cycle of birth, suffering and death.  But repeated endlessly in the mind:  Something triggers a thought, the thought is pleasant so one attempts to hold on to it.  It gives birth to a ‘world’ wherein one tries to find delight, then ends in suffering as the conditions change and the ‘death of the thought or ‘world’ ends.  Only to start all over again and repeat itself.

Here’s a song I wrote a number of years ago after have gone grocery shopping at an up-scale market.  It’s called “Just A fantasy”

I first saw her in line at the check out stand

Her purse was wide open, checkbook in hand.

As I stood there waitin’ in line

I started thinkin’ she was mighty fine.

MY mighty fine, My mighty fine.

I saw her last week at the dairy case

She had a box of diapers and some mayonaise.

As she reached up and picked out some cheese

Oh how I wished she was buyin’ it for my

Buy buyin’ it for me, buy buyin’ it for me.

Chorus:  She’s just a fantasy

A love that’ll never be

She’s just a fantasy

The girl in the check-out line.

As I looked at my list, saw I needed some milk

She wore old blue jeans and a blouse of silk.

I looked at her, she looked at me

I thought of things that could never be.

No never be, no never be

When I walked out the door, to the parking lot

Looked over my shoulder, gave her one last shot.

Saw her get in an old Cadillac, with a dog and kids in the back

Guess that was that,   Guess that was that.


There you have it, and there it is.  Has that ever happened to you?

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