mind expanding nonsense

Archive for July, 2011

“What A Wanker”

I made a post lately titled “Calling Bullshit”, one of my better efforts if I may say so myself. But what was really cool, was not my biting sarcastic parody, but the comments from some of my international friends, who introduced me to the term “Wanker”. Never heard of that one before, maybe because I don’t live in the UK. Must be a lot of Wanking going on over there, cause it’s a fairly popular term, bollocks notwithstanding.

Well I had to Google “Wanker” as soon as I saw it, not just because I was ignorant of the terms meaning (although in retrospect I found that I was quite a master of it during my youth); but there’s nothing like finding a new expression who’s meaning is not only obtuse, but nasty and derogatory too. The best of all worlds. Kinda like learning about the “F” word when I was eight. Didn’t have a clue as to what it meant, but sure knew it wasn’t good (boy was I wrong there). Back then I could use a naughty word and none of my friends knew it’s true meaning..snicker snicker.

Seems like Wanker is pretty much a male dominate sport/title/profession. Rarely used for women, except if there’s a female auxiliary of Wankeretts. But then again if there where Wankeretts, there would probably be not need for wankering and there be few true Wankers left…. It’s also a British term of fairly recent origin. You just got to love them Brits and their rich potty mouths; hey they invented the American Language. [Here in California the Mexicans invented the American Language]. And here’s a little secret: We (the people) in the States love it.

Take that show American Idol. You probably have your version where you live. We just ate-up that Simon Cowell guy with his snide, uppity aloof sarcasm wrapped in an English accent. Chef Gordon “bleep” Ramsay is another one. This UK import has two or three restaurant/cooking shows. “Hells Kitchen” was one of his first. You’ll notice it wasn’t called “Hecks” Kitchen. Nope, the good Chef had such a vile potty mouth that half of what he said had to be censored. Nearly every sentence had a “bleep” sound in it . Sometimes when the Chef got really bloody pissed (not bleeped), there was a bleep after every other bleepin’ word he bleeping said; usually nouns. Well being ever curious, and hating censorship, I figured  they were probably only bleeping the words fuck or shit. And despising mind control (herbal exempted), I started substituting fuck and shit for the bleeped words during the show; just to get a feel for what the good chef was really talking about. I got to be so good at it that I soon stopped hearing the bleep sound, but rather subliminally substituted the dirty words…. Fuck, that Wanker could really talk some Shit. Oops, no seven second delay here in the Hallucinatorium. Sorry, it’s just all that subliminal conditioning.

So I decided I got to start using the term Wanker as much as I can. It’d sure impress my fellow countrymen; some of whom are real Wankers themselves. And having the blog-o-sphere as a vehicle for all the effluent in my mind, I decided to add yet another category to my blog: “What a Wanker”. Reserved for special recipients who may not be truly “Ripe For Ridicule”, but still blokes who may be in need of some special attention. Calling someone a wanker is the opposite a “Shout Out” when ya say “Hey!” to someone. More like an expression of disapproval, “what a wanker, yuk.”. The whole Anthony Weiner story is so old now, but he would have been a good first recipient. For not only was he a Wanker, but it appears he was also a wanker too. Love double meanings, don’t you?

So really having no one specifically in mind, just take this as a promo, or better yet a trailer that hasn’t hit You Tube yet, about what’s upcoming here at Hansis’. Maybe then you’ll be able to say “What a Wanker”.  “Ah Hansi, you never did fully explain what a Wanker was.”  Well, don’t be such a wanker; look it up you ‘bleeping’ self. 🙂

OK, I’ll give ya a little hint.  The guy who came up with  this device was a real wanker.

Pussy

OK filth minds, this not about what you might think it’s about. Just because I have a fascination with old time derogatory, yet highly colorful and descriptive terms that are no longer in common use, doesn’t mean every post is about that stuff. Nope, you can let your evil imaginations rest. This is even worse, and I may be stooping to new lows here, this post is about my goddamned cats.

Actually , this post should have been titled “Alms for Animals”. Cause it’s about all the cats that have suddenly started congregating in my backyard, and me feeding them. Maybe “Pussy Galore” would have been a good title too. But it’s true. I think that there’s now four cats that are loitering around out there, each trying to claim MY backyard as their territory; usually by ‘spraying’ (peeing) on everything in sight!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m really more a cat person than a dog lover. Dogs are OK, but they smell, want to lick ya all over the place, and are generally more rambunctious than I prefer in a relationship. Cats however, are subtle, play hard to get, and are not as ‘high maintenance’ as dogs. Usually not the all or nothing relationship you end up having with a dog.

I’ve always had cats, but no longer want one in the house. Been there, done that. Now an ‘outside cat’, that’s something else. No fur all over the place. No furniture ripped to shreds by their clawing. Plus, if not especially well fed, some are excellent gopher hunters [evil gophers]. And if cats are hanging around, they are also make excellent bird deterrents [evil, eat everything in my garden and then shit all over your patio furniture birds].

So, Ive taken a liking to one of these stays (interlopers) , a smallish gray female I call  Gray Cat. She’s a bit stand-offish, but friendly. And with a food offering, has become even more friendly and lets me pet her and scratch her neck. But one morning, after feeding her a few times, I go outside, and what do I find but Gray Cat crying at my back door Meow, Meow Meow. I know what she wants…..food. Enough fore-play already, give me food. So I give her handful of cat-chow and she dives into the bowl. Then, she ups and splits on me; not to be seen again until the next morning. Ya think she’s just using me? What a little kibble-whore.

One of the other cats, Black Cat, seems interested, but wants no part of me. I do have a special place in my heart for all black cats; mysterious, a bit on the evil side. And if ya ever need some good Ju Ju, you have instant access to some Black Cat Bone fo all yo ills. Had one before. Called her “Black Cat”, and she was a great gopher hunter; carcases all over the place. But she got run over by a car. Miss her. It’s kinda like the old saying, “Once you have black, you never go back”. Well, I’ll give Gray Cat a try now,and see where it goes.

I can handle being used. It’s a mutually beneficial adult relationship; we each get what we want out of it. I’m just waiting for her to bring me a gopher or two. We’ll see. No long term commitments. Don’t want that cat bringing a lot of baggage into this relationship, like litter boxes, flea collars and they like.

I’m off to the store now; gotta buy some more cat-food….That girl can eat. Hope she’s been spayed.

“I’ve Got My Principles”

Yep, bet you never thought you’d hear that one here at Hansi’s Hallucinations. But “I’ve got my principles.” And by the way, my principles are far more superior than yours! And one of my more easier to adhere to principles is: Never pass up an opportunity for ridicule when the situation is ripe.

I love bywords. Nifty phrases that are supposed sum up a situation and are loaded with meaning but are more often than not just bullshit. And “I’ve got my principles” is certainly one of ’em. I hear that phrase mostly from ultra right wing politicians and pundits. The meaning of course is “My views are being driven from a higher power, and I could never compromise on that.” REAL MEANING: “I’m so intransigent and selfish, that I wanna of cram my values down your throat. And, I’m gonna do anything in my power to accomplish those means.” No? Well, I’ve got my principles, and they’re pretty high right now, and (looking down upon yours) they seem far more loftier than anything you may come up with.

Hansi….You be really fried this morning.” Perhaps, but here’s something I just don’t understand. Everybody has principles, good or bad, they are what drive us in our actions (hopefully). Why are some principles better than others, and therefore worthy of blind allegiance? My Uncle Hermann had his principles and stuck to them till the end of his life. What a guy! Oh yeah, I forgot. Uncle Hermann was an SS officer in the German Army during WW II. And before he could get into the SS, had to prove that he had five generations of pure Aryan blood in his family.** Damn those be some big principles. No Jews allowed: we’ve got our principles don’t cha know. Well Uncle Hermann was a Nazi till the end when he died in 2001.

Here’s another mind blower. During WWII, my mother who immigrated from Germany in the late twenties, had to send her soon to be husband ( My Father) off to war to defend American principles. He had to fight her brother Hermann who was busily defending his German (actually Third Reich) principles. What a dilemma for Mom. Family be fightin’ family. Well we know who’s principles were far more superior to whose. Wonder if that’s why Dad would always get pissed off when Mom wanted to sent off a Care Package to my cousins in post-war Germany?  BTW…I’m sure glad Daddy made it back from the war in one piece so he could finally marry Mom and get busy cranking out a little Hansi.

Boy, this whole thing of having principles is causing me to go through some real mental gymnastics. But I think when it comes to principles, if they’re not based upon Love and Compassion, but are rather an excuse to be intransigent and selfish. Then screw you and your principles. If you claim to be a big Christian, but ignore Jesus’ sermon on the mount. Then screw you and your principles. If your principles are just a guise to attempt some major social engineering at the expense of  devastating the Country. Then fuck You and fuck your principles.

Boy Hansi, you were a total potty mouth there for a while”. Well, maybe so. But I’ve got my principles!

**You got to just love the Germans…I certainly do. My wife is busily tracing the genealogy of her family. She’s having trouble getting past a stubborn Irish great grandfather. Just too much conflicting information, and inaccurate records; she’s come to a dead end. But My German genealogy. Auch du liber! No problem. Ya know that five generations of Aryan blood law the Nazi’s had. Well, the Germans kept all those records after the war. There wasn’t a piece of paper the Germans didn’t save, catalog and in a love for order, stash away. Order above all!  So it was no problem for my Sister to look up all that stuff over there. Thanks Uncle Hermann.

Workers Paradise


Workers Paradise. Remember that one? That’s what I also used to call “The House of Pain”; the probation department I worked in for thirty years. The House of Pain, as you know, was evil Dr Moreau’s laboratory in the classic movie “Island of Lost Souls” based on the H G Wells even more classic novel “The Island of Dr Moreau”. That’s were he forcefully changed the nature of wild animals (me) into acting like men and behaving in a manor contrary to their Inherent nature (still me).

So work became know amongst my co-workers as the “House Of Pain:. It was also known as “Workers Paradise”. Even more arcane, that’s what the Soviet Union [formerly known as The Evil Empire] called their centralized planning communist  economy. Boy, funny how a rigid adherence to  ideological principals that clearly weren’t working turned that place into a pile of shit; five year plans notwithstanding.  Although everybody had a job (unlike the good old USA where people are eating dung because of unemployment) , their wages were meager and there was basically nothing for them to buy. And anything worth buying was a piece of shit and cost you three or four years wages [ no credit crunch in Workers Paradise, but also no credit].

Just to be clear now, Workers Paradise, as good as it sounded, was really Workers Hell. And everybody knew it. Having a love affair with sarcasm, along with a fascination phor phucking with words, I therefore couldn’t help but call my place of employment “Workers Paradise”. Wonder if that’s why I never got promoted? And after a good roll in the hay with Lady Sarcasm, can’t help but wanna have a long smoke of some “Double Speak”. George Orwell really nailed that one. “Less is More” and “Peace through War”. I don’t think even Eric Cantor could have said it better.

Well, I’m not going to the House of Pain today. “What, I though you were retired Hansi.” I am, but I went back to work. Ya see, I’m a “Consumer”, and if you’re a Consumer, ya got to consume stuff. Now consumption don’t come cheap, gotta pay for it or borrow money from them Chinese guys so you can live in “Consumers Paradise”.  And having spent thirty years in the good doctor’s House of Pain, all my natural instincts have been bred out of me, so all that I could do was to walk up-right, not eat flesh, and go back to work and start consuming stuff.

Well right now I’m in Retirement Paradise. And its a trip to reflect on all the double speak I’ve been hearing lately. The truth is, the Truth is being bent out of shape by some folks, and although it kinda sounds correct, it’s nothing but a bunch of double speak. I’m especially fond of this one: “I’ve got my principles”.   Well who doesn’t?  Having principles infers that you are being driven by a higher power, and values far superior to your opponents.  Real Meaning:  I’m such a rigid ideologue that I’m willing to see everything crumble to the ground in order to get my way. “Got to cut the growth of the government; we’re mortgaging our children’s future” is another good one. Yep that dough for senior health care and retirement is going down the shitter alright; not to mention them Pell grants and money wasted on public education. But the money going to corporate American (oil subsidies and the like), why that’s not Spending, that’s growing jobs. Sounds good? Maybe if we all just wanted less from our government we’d really all have more!

There’s more, and I could go on about taxing the rich, the supposed election mandates of 2010 and our constant state of war [now we’re really getting Orwellian], but I’m in Retirement Paradise today. And if things get totally stinky, I think I’m gonna take my own advice and just call Bullshit!!! and get on with life.

The Blues

*

I’ve been listening to a lot of the music I liked in the 60’s lately. Stuff like Hendrix, the San Francisco bands and Led Zeppelin (first album). And it got me thinking about the blues. I think I first discovered the blues with Paul Butterfield’s “East West” album. Didn’t know it at the time; but it was pure Chicago Blues. Butterfield was a great harp player;  not  harmonica player. The two extended jams on that album: ‘Work Song’ and ‘East West’, blew us away in college. Wow…and they still sound good today.

Funny thing was, I really didn’t “discover” the blues back then, as much as realize that what I was listening to was….the blues. A lot of early rock and roll had a big blues influence. Eric Clapton of Cream was playing them, along with a lot of other English bands. John Mayall in particular.


Having had no real exposure to the blues in the early sixties.  I had no clue as to what the Blues guys were talking about.  When I heard the Doors do “Back Door Man”.  I just though it was some cool psychedelic type song.  But after I heard Howlin’ Wolf’s original version, with it’s undulating rhythm I got it.  “The men don’t know, but the little girls understand”.  Hell, I was lucky if I could be a front door man at age 19, let alone a back door man making his “mid-night creep”, sneaking in and screwing another man’s wife.  Now a days I think the term “back door man” is more indicative of one’s sexual preferences than his prowess in the Adultery Arena (one of my favorite sports venues).


Although I considered myself a pretty groovy guy in the day, I was really a lame little white-boy when it came to the blues.  I didn’t know what my Mojo was, let alone whether or not it was working on you.  When Elmore James sang about “Shaking your money maker”, I though he meant waving your wallet in the air.  But I found out.  Dig this:

Back in Los Angeles in th late 60’s, all the big rock bands came through the Shrine Auditorium Exhibition Hall. I mean Everybody. And so did the real blues guys.  I remember seeing Albert King play there. Thing was, the Shrine gigs were primarily attended  by a bunch of young white hippies, and when Albert brought his band through (probably on detour from the ‘chitin circuit’ ), it was a real cultural shock.

Here’s this huge hall, filled with a bunch seriously stoned hippies, and Albert’s band appears and starts playin’ without Albert. OK that was cool, a warm up before the “star” appeared. Better than four space-cadets wandering on stage so loaded they couldn’t find their instruments. But then, before Albert appeared, out came four scantily clad, a touch on the chubby-side, black dancing girls who start shakin’ there thangs (you know; money makers) in front of all us impressionable, yet stoned out of our minds, youth. Whoa…that was the most unbelievable thing I think I’d ever seen; something my parents never took me to or let me see.  Shit! I think Albert even wondered were the fuck he was too. But here’s the thing, once Albert started playing, the place fell silent, and after all of his extended guitar solo’s there was a hearty round of applause in appreciation. I think ol’ Albert started to realize that people were diggin’ on him. I sure was.

The blues’ influence had less of an impact on the bands of the seventies, and it wasn’t until a guy named Stevie Ray Vaughn hit the scene and blew us all away with his blues guitar, that the blues started coming back. At this time “Roots” music was making a resurgence in LA and a lot of bands playing nothing but basic guitar-laden blues and rockabilly where being heard, groups like the Blasters and Paladins. But blew me away were the Fabulous Thunderbirds. A Texas band with Stevie Ray’s brother Jimmy in it. They had the up-front big guitar east Texas blues sound goin’ on, with a big helping of Slim Harpo thrown in.

I guess you can tell I’m a bit of a “music nut”. And I got to admit I love the sound of an electric guitar played with a touch of reverb.  Add an undulating swampy rhythm, and it don’t get much better than that. The thing I like best about the blues is that it’s all about life and living.  Raw sex, relationships, cheating, getting by in a tough world. It’s all there slightly hidden by a veil of earthy euphemisms.  Throw in a pick-up truck with a rifle rack in the rear window and you got country music.  It’s not just slow  depressing stuff, but taking a little control over your lot in life and joyfully singing and playin’ some real butt shakin’ music in the process.  And being able to just sit back and listen, is for me, one of the basic pleasures in life.  It’s kinda like one of my favorite blues songs, “I’m so Happy, I’m so glad I got the Blues” .

Hope you got the blues too….The happy kind.  The kind that make you jump out of your seat and start shaking your money maker.

He said What?

OK…Ripe for Ridicule time again. I saw this one in a Yahoo news story about the debt ceiling crisis. This is a statement from US Senator Orin Hatch on the Republican demand that now a constitutional amendment be added into the negotiations requiring a balanced budget.

Senator Hatch said: “Only by restoring constitutional restraints on the ability of the US Congress to spend, can we constrain the growth of the federal government. The solution to a spending crisis is not tax increases. Yet Washington has consistently demonstrated that it cannot control its urge to spend.”

Can I believe my eyes. Is what he’s actually saying: the Representatives and Senators that make up the “Congress” can’t control themselves? And are rather solely driven by their urges and desires? Now I can understand thinking with your dick (it’s a handy tool for makin’ them important decisions), but Orin’s saying, and keep in mind that he is a member of Congress and part of “Washington”,  that he and his co-workers are nothing but a bunch of shopaholics  and need help.

“Now Hansi.  Once again you’ve had too much medication.  He didn’t mean he himself has a problem, just everyone else.”  Well, I’ll be dipped in shit, I thought he was  admitting to being totally irresponsible, and having no control over himself.  Kinda like  Anthony Weiner.  Wow…I’m sure glad we didn’t elect a bunch of guys with serious addiction problems to be our ‘leaders’?

When I was fighting crime, I had an old junkie on my caseload. This guy had been using heroin since he was a teenager, and been in and out of jail many times for drug offenses. He came to me one day and asked for a “dry-out”. Didn’t know what he meant so he explained: If you’re a heroin addict, you don’t have to be “strung-out” all the time, but can only use occasionally, its called “chipping”. BUT…sometimes ‘occasionally’ turns into frequently, and then you’re “on a run”. Things can really go south on ya then, cause ya start to get a little desperate, and start doing desperate things like maybe rob a Liquor Store…Bad, that’s Prison time, not just 90 days in the ‘County’ for being under the influence.

So what my client wanted was for me to test him for drug use;  he guaranteed he’d be ‘dirty’, and then violate his probation and take him to Court and recommend he serve 30 days for using drugs. He wanted a forced 30 day detox in the county jail, cause he could no longer control himself and he knew it!  Needless to say, I fulfilled his wishes.

Is this what the good senator is really admitting “I can’t control myself so I need a constitutional detox”.  ” Far be it from me to act responsibly, I’ve got a problem.  I need outside help.””  Are these guys we’ve put into office little more than Junkies. Manipulative, distrustful addicts that would do anything for a fix, and are totally beyond control???

Watch what you’re saying Orin baby.  Some folks may actually be listening.  You’re “Ripe For Ridicule”.

Calling Bullshit

While I’m on a roll with nifty words and phrases [see my posts: Skank and Lying Sack of Shit] I thought I’d have to throw this one into the mix. If you are a frequent follower of the this blog, you’ve probably already noticed that bullshit plays a big part in all my writing: drawings too. But why I like the term/word Bullshit is because it’s so versatile, and has a multitude of meanings and applications.

I had to cancel a fishing trip with one of my good buddies because of a family emergency. And as a result will be missing out on a lot of good bullshit. Nothing better than fishin’, drinkin’ and the bullshit that inevitably follows. And my bud, Geezerpuss, is so filled with arcane knowledge on a multitude of subjects, that one might even say that he is full of bullshit, or, a great bullshitter.

But leaving my fascination with potty mouth posts behind, I think there is one application for the word that is most appropriate these days. And that would be: “Calling Bullshit.”  Calling Bullshit, for me, is an expression of disapproval or refusal to accept something you know just isn’t true.

I remember being in Yosemite in 2004 during the presidential debates between John Kerry and George Bush. Old “W” was telling some real whoppers in those debates and bending the truth sideways. The debates were being broadcast in the Curry Village Cafeteria, so I was in mixed company and had to watch what I said. Well when “W” told a huge fib, the only way I could express my dis-approval  was by covering my mouth , and while feigning a cough, yell out “Bullshit”. I know, it’s a classic ploy but still highly effective.

So, all bullshitting aside, when you hear or confront something you just know isn’t true or just plain doesn’t sit right [ commonly know as horse shit – different animal, same bi-product]. I’d encourage you to just “Call Bullshit”. Simple as that! Much less offensive than saying “Fuck You”, but still packing that wallop of dis-approval. What you are really doing is calling a “timeout” You’re letting the Bullshitter know, that you, the Bullshit-ee, is not buying it. “Let’s go no further. No thank you!” You’ll feel better, and it’s far more healthier to vent your feelings appropriately than to hold them in.

So, for instance, when ya hear Sarah Palin telling a Fox interviewer that she thinks all this default on the debt limit business is way overblown and nothing is gonna happen, don’t just sit there in disbelief. Call Bullshit!

No such thing as global warming? Bet the folks living along the entire Mississippi River are collectively calling bullshit on that one. The debt ceiling crisis: Bullshit in all it’s meanings. Got to watch it though. I personally can’t watch Rep Eric Cantor without my potty-mouth going total dysentery, and overflowing with effluent. Leaves a foul odor in the air, let alone my mouth

So you get the general drift (don’t breath deeply) of what I’m saying, and how valuable a tool Calling Bullshit is. Use it liberally, yet politely. You may get more mileage out of a straight-up “Fuck You”, (not to mention the emotional satisfaction that goes along with it) but, “Excuse me, I’m going to have to call Bullshit on that one.”  Well that’s so much nicer, polite, yet just as effective. You’ll be glad ya did, and feel better too….And that’s no bullshit.

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