Have I Been a Bad Boy?

I need some help here.  Maybe even a reality check, cause I discovered today that my recent post “I WANT SARAH” is missing.  You know that one, the little ditty from my rich fantasy life, about  how much I missed Sarah Palin spanking me.  Well it’s not under Recent Posts anymore.  For you who only read the pictures, and not the words, it was this one.

Now one of two things may have occurred.  Either I totally spaced-out due to a recent change in medication, and like an idiotic fool, accidentally deleted the post after my new meds had kicked in.  Or, unbeknownst to me,  I’ve Been Censored.

Now there’s a high probability of the first scenario being true, and in all likelihood, what actually happened.  Or maybe, and I’m getting a little paranoid here, WordPress has possibly censored me?

Please, let me know if  you’ve ever experienced censorship with WordPress.  Has it happened to you?  Anyone you follow?  Or is this  just another major blunder on my part?

Actually, I think it would be pretty cool to be censored.  Means you’re doing some naughty, biting (in this case spanking) stuff, and the best part, the censor had to read it too.  But my stuff is fairly tame; not loaded up with profanity (unless I’m totally fucking pissed); not overly offensive, but oftentimes in bad taste.  So I can’t  see why I’d be censored.  Unless there’s Sarah Police out there. I screwed up.  That’s what happened [ but on my favorite post about my favorite Tea Partier???]…Oh well.  At least I got to publish my drawing of Sarah and me again.

Crayola Friday

Well it’s Saturday; the weekend.  And you know that that means.  Yep it’s time for Crayola Friday. OK, just to refresh your memory.  Crayola Friday isn’t something that just happens on Fridays.  It’s an event.  You know, kinda like quality time with the wife; who knows which day of the month that may fall upon? Unless of course it’s your Birthday.  Then you have a pretty good indication of when some QT may fall your way.  But don’t assume that  means two sessions will be bestowed upon ya in one month!  Nope, even if you’ve been a ‘good boy’, once a month will have to hold ya;  whether you need it or not.

Sorry…I got side-tracked.  As you can see, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.  But with the help of my three year old grandson, I was able to crank out these gems.  Maybe I over did it a bit when Photoshopping  the one below.  Maybe it’s a reflection of my dark-side.

The Oh Reilly Fornication

Getting spanked by Tea Party Queen Sarah Palin was such a gratifying sexual fantasy [see I Want Sarah post to your right] that I dug into my archives for this piece of trash.  I must admit, I did have some second thoughts about this one, cause some might see it as being in bad taste.  But then again, when have second thoughts and bad taste ever been a consideration here at Hansi’s Hallucinations?

**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 that 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 (wurst 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 Riley 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 new 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 Sustenance. 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 hang-out with Snooki, and compete with her for all the sleaze-balls at the Snookster’s favorite bars.   Meowww, that would be a real 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’.

Crayola Friday

Well old Hansi be dipped in shit (once again), if Crayola Friday didn’t up and make its appearance on Saturday.  A day late and a dollar short!  But I’m a kinda liberal sort of guy, so I’m prone to thinking outside the box.  Can’t just think of Crayola Friday as only being something that happens  on Fridays.  Nope, gotta broaden your horizons and not just think of Crayola Friday solely as a date, but more of an event.  Like your birthday or even better, like Christmas.  Those things don’t just happen on the same day year after year, but on different days.  Christmas is on a Tuesday this year.  And regarding my birthday, all I can say is I’m wearing my birthday suit as we speak.  I would have shown you more of it below, but it’s a little wrinkled and there’s a hole in it.

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• If you could take any class for free, what would you choose?
• How would your life be different if you had grown up without any siblings?
• What’s the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?

If you don’t have Word Press, this is what ya get after you push the publish tab when making a post. Magic, I know, and the source of everley increasing Blog ideas for me.

Thought I could get one post with all three of these ideas. This one was easy.

1. I’d take sex education classes, and with a very skilled therapist!
2. I wouldn’t have a sister if I grew up without siblings. That’s stupid! Siblings also kind sounds like a childhood disease, like Mumps or Chickenpox.
3. Up till right now, the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done is answer these three questions.

Wait, there’s more.  Here’s some some jewels worthy of discussion:

4. What’s the worst injury you’ve ever sustained? Do they mean like with physical scars or emotional ones?
5. List your favorite ways to procrastinate. I’m still working on that one.
6. If you had your own clothing line, what would it be Called? “Hand Me-Downs” sounds good to me.
7. What do you think is the most destructive force to mankind? Easy…nature.
8. If you could make an anonymous gift to someone, what would it be? My blog business cards of course.
9. Name a company or product you would like to star in a TV commercial for. Well, I can tell ya what I wouldn’t star in: any thing to do with Viagra, Cealis or Penis extending
10. You get to make an appearance on any TV show of your choice, what would it be? The Next Millionaire would be a good one.

So once again it’s Word Press to the rescue for old Hansi. Damn, that was easier than just cut and paste-ing something.

Crayola Friday

A scribble or a line, caught in time, while out of my mind

A couple of the bloggers I follow feature “A Friday Moment” wherein they showcase some of their photography.  One of my favorite bloggers even has a “Watercolor Friday” and posts her paintings every Friday.  Well I wanta showcase my work too (as if every damn post I do doesn’t already feature a shitload of  my drawings).  So I decided to copy, imitate. be inspired by what they do, and feature some of my work done in my new favorite medium: crayons.

Had some help from my three year old grandson.  He wanted to draw one day, so I got out the paper and Crayola ‘adjustable pencils’ and let him rip.  Now, he doesn’t have the fine motor skills, eye-hand coordination, or sense of composition and design that Hansi has.  But we both like the same subject matter.

He started these two gems and left me to finish them (“do the hard part”).  Pretty good for a three year old!  And something pretty cool for Grandpa to do. So look forward to more Crayon Fridays to come.

Oh yea.   You’ll probably see this one again on a different post.  But I just had to post it; couldn’t wait till next Friday.   And…it was actually done on Friday**  Beginning with  a scribble, or a line, while out of my mind, at the time.

** Anal retentive calendar freak types will notice that this was posted on a Saturday, and not a Friday.  Well, good for you, all that college has certainly paid off.  But the thing of it is, I came up with this brilliant idea on a Saturday morning, and being unable to delay gratification in any form, couldn’t wait a whole week to publish it.  So, like we used to say when I was fighting crime: “Close enough for government work”.

Proper Medication

A few posts back I wrote a piece about how we live in a drug culture and are being constantly bombarded by advertisements to try certain drugs.  You may have surmised that I am against drug use in all its forms.  Well oh contraire!  Not all drugs are bad, and certain medications can be beneficial and improve the quality of ones life.  So in order to be “fair and balanced”, I’ve dug into the archives to provide an opposite point of view.

If there’s anything that I learned in my 30 year career of fighting crime and dealing with mental health clients, it is that everyone functions at their best when properly medicated. Take that bipolar dual-diagnosis  meth freak for example. They’re going down the tubes fast because they’re using the wrong medication. In the business we call it “self-medicating”; but who else can you really medicate but yourself?   You can’t slip meds to other people, that’s against the law, and as a crime fighter I’m certainly against people breaking the law; bending…that’s a different story.  [There’s a bunch of folks out there I’d like to slip a chill-pill to…in suppository form].   Or consider the decompensating schizophrenic. Nothing like a shot of Haldol to bring their psychotic asses back to reality (which is a board and care facility that takes the bulk of their $550 monthly SSI check, leaving them with just enough money to buy some Bugler tobacco and sit around all day smoking roll your own cigarettes with the other zombies). Yep. It goes without saying that it is of paramount importance that everyone be properly medicated. I know I am.

You gotta be careful though and not use just any medication; even the ones that your doctor may prescribe have hidden side effects, the likes of which you wanna avoid at all costs. Just the other day I saw a commercial for some stuff that relieves irritable bowel syndrome. Now there’s a lot of stuff that irritates me, but I sure don’t want it to be my bowels. Anyway the list of dis-claimers was longer than the actual pitch to try this shit. You could die, have a stroke, suffer nausea, vomiting, and the dry-heaves, be constipated, have diarrhea, flatulence (my favorite term for farting), or even have your ass-hole catch on fire. This product was not to be used by anyone who is pregnant, has been pregnant or ever wants to get pregnant (sorry gals), nor whose mother was ever pregnant…. Use in combination with Aspirin, Tylenol, Ibuprofen or Aleve could cause anal bleeding. And the list goes on.

A proper medication should improve ones life, reduce stress, provide relief from suffering and induce a general feeling of well-being. My favorite medication does all of the above and more. And its  organic, created by God Himself. There are some side effects however. I’ve found that when overly medicated, I have a tendency to fall asleep on the couch while listening to my favorite Led Zeppelin album. There is also the danger of rushing to the refrigerator and eating everything in sight .  And then there is the laughing.  Once when my medication was just starting to have its most beneficial healing effect, I started to watch ‘The Super Hero Movie’ and laughed my ass of for two hours. My jaw hurt afterwards. So you got to be careful. But, you got to stay properly medicated, for one is only as good as his medication.

It’s Starting To Feel Like The Sixties Again

 

 

I was really lucky to have grown up in the fifties and sixties. I got to experience Elvis in the late 50’s [before he went into the Army, and after which took a massive nosedive into lame songs and stupid movies]. I went to High School in the early sixties and College in the late sixties. In 1963, I was waiting on the West Coast listening to Surf Music, arms wide open for the Beatles and the rest of the British Invasion. In college I became ‘experienced’ by Jimi Hendrix, and have been so ever since.

Well it’s startin’ to feel like the sixties again. The music today sucks, but there’s a lot of dissatisfaction out there (we never could get no satisfaction back then); unpopular wars, rough economic times and a general feeling that things are spinning out of control. That the country isn’t being run by We The People, but by corporate interests whose sole purpose is to serve itself [corporations are people too, don’t cha know] and enrich a select few, while the masses are facing unemployment and financial insecurity.  Damn, it’s stating to feel more like the thirties again.

Maybe I’m having a massive flash-back or just a nostalgic case of deja-vu? I’ll let you be the judge. But when I see cops cracking heads and pepper spraying people demonstrating over Wall Street excesses in New York, sure reminds me of the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Afghanistan sure reminds me of Vietnam. Special interests running the country sure reminds me of the “Military Industrial Complex” which was the boogie man back then.

What’s really cool now (bitchin’, groovy and even out of sight) is the Occupy Wall Street protests that are emerging , not only on Wall Street, but around the country. A lot of pundits and even old liberals are taking a cautious view, wondering whats going on. Well that’s a no brainer: People are fucking pissed, and starting to show their outrage. Our “leaders” aren’t doing shit to solve our problems and things are only getting worse.

The Tea Party started in similar fashion, but has since been taken over “co-opted” by the Republican establishment [maybe it’s he other way around]… But, like em or not, their message has had an impact on the Republican Party. Look at its’ current crop of extreme right wing candidates. Rich Rick Perry may play well in Texas, but that bumpkin ain’t cutting it on the West Coast. All of them are catering to an extreme element, which is really not representative of the majority of Americans. But at least their ‘voice’ has been herd heard.

So what to make of this Occupy Movement. Well. I’m personally diggin’ it. It’s not getting the media attention it deserves, but it’s spreading. The liberal Answer to the Tea Party??? I’ll let you be the judge again. One thing I do know is they sure have better, more creative costumes than a bunch of fat old white folks dressed up in colonial garb with their pot bellies hanging out and ever ready for action lawn chairs nearby. I much prefer Zombies, especially as Halloween draws near.   This movement has some energy; has a message; and hopefully won’t be “co-opted” by the corporate interests (on both sides) that run this country.

This movement is just getting started, and will be interesting to watch; and maybe even support. All those anti-war protests did have an impact on the Vietnam War. Too bad a lot of good people died while waiting for it to end. Maybe it’s time to stand up and say like Jimi Hendrix:

White collar conservatives flashing down the street

Pointing their plastic finger at me.

Hoping soon that my kind will drop and die

But I’m going to wave my freak flag high….High.

Jimi sure said it like it is in “If 6 were 9”.  All I know is if there’s one of those Occupy Demonstrations happening in my area, I’m grabbing my lawn chair and going.

Slumps Bumps and Andy Gumps

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I’m subject to creative slumps. Not like Donald Trump when he’s on the stump (what a chump), foregoing a hump, sitting on his rump, taking a dump in his own Andy Gump. But periods of when nothing seems to be working, and there’s no motivation to get them to work. I recently suffered through one with my drawing. My art-work, such as it is, came to a screaming halt, and that was fine with me. Well not really. Its discouraging to not have your Artistic Mojo workin’ for. [My other mojo is working just fine thank you]. I really enjoy drawing and it never ceases to blow my mind what I’ve come up with after a good session with the pencils. But even that joy, didn’t interest me that much. So I was in a Slump! [We’ll get to Bumps and Andy Gumps later, so unload that lump, right down the sump, without a pump and watch it jump].

What’s a trip about being in a slump, is being aware that you are in a slump, and being able to observe it in a non-judgmental, somewhat removed manner. I was able to do this, and although it may have been uncomfortable, it was revealing. I was basically drawing the same ol’ stuff, and getting bored with the results. I’d sit down, start with the same ol’ lines, draw the forms that came easy, and say to myself. “this is shit”. That’s where the Andy Gump starts coming in.

What I needed was a Bump! Something to jolt me out of this rut I was finding myself in, and get me going again. I knew I needed that; saw my actions for what they were: basic laziness and lack of focus, and did something about it.

I went to the public library, where everything is free too borrow (later with this Kindle crap), and got a book on How to Create a Graphic Novel.  Not so much as something I want to pursue, but more so for the artwork therein. I love comic book art, and some of my biggest influences were the artists that drew for Mad Magazine in the 50’s: Wallace Wood, Bill Elder and Jack Davis. I really don’t want to draw like an illustrator, but still admire their work and the poses they place their figures in.

So I started drawing from some of the stuff I saw. Not copying so much as like drawing what I saw [that didn’t make sense]. It was hard at first, only because it required me to concentrate, set aside time, and not being so invested in the out-come. You know what? The juices started flowing again (getting closer to Andy Gump), and I’ was no longer is a Slump. I needed that Bump!

I’m sharing this not only for its cathartic value but fore, four, for the Bloggers that read my stuff.  The folks I follow are creative people. Some ‘creative writers’, which I am definitely not! But folks creatively coming up with new work all the time. So if I’m subject to creative slumps, why they must be too.  Although unpleasant and frustrating, I think creative slumps are of value. A time to re-group. To do some internal reorganization. A time of preparation before ya take it to the next level. Maybe you’ve experience something similar. If so, I hope this is helpful.

Well this wouldn’t be a true Hansi hallucination if some good old, ever popular, only surpassed in funniness by farts, bathroom humor wasn’t thrown in. Andy Gump is the name of a port-a-potty company, you know, a Lu on wheels. Poor Andy had a shit house named after him, but at least he’s famous. When I was at an outdoor concert in a fairly effluent affluent area, they didn’t just have some stinky-ass, plastic potties there. No Sir!  They had a series of eight individual rooms on a flat-bed which where carpeted, well lit, clean, with running water, soap and plenty of paper towels inside. Not for just any riff-raft, only concert goers were allowed therein. That impressed me so much with it’s classiness, that I couldn’t just call em an Andy Gump; I thought  of them being more an “Andrew Gump” instead.  No shit….it’s true.

The Story About Why I Was Banned From Using A Pager At Work

DISCLAIMER:  At the insistence of my Wife, I am forced to confess that the following story is sheer fantasy.  It never happened.  But could have.

Back in the day when I was in my prime and fightin’ crime, long before the era of cell phones, having a pager assigned to you in the Probation Dept. was quite the thing. It carried with it an aura of  status and importance, as only a select few were issued these devices. I viewed them, correctly, as just another form of electronic monitoring. My opinions were later vindicated, as every homeboy drug dealer and crack-whore client of mine was soon wearing a “beeper”. Now its cell phones, and every goddamned idiot in the world has one.

Anyway, I was eventually given one, the status symbal having long since evaporated, and told to wear it while out of the office or when conducting jail interviews. I took the device home that evening to show off my new status ( now right up there with the crack-whores and drug dealers), which duly impressed my wife; especially the pulse feature.

The next morning, after a particularly zesty session of ‘quality time’ the night before, Wifey has still feelin’ a little frisky, and suggested that at some point in the morning I set the pager on pulse, place it in my jockey shorts, and that she’d give me a little ‘ring’. Her way of saying “I’m thinking about you”. Well, how could I pass that up?..

So its off to work I go. The day started as usual with three reports and jail interviews to do. I slipped the pager down my shorts and went about my day, forgetting all about the whole matter as time wore on. Then the trouble began. During the middle of my last jail interview, Wifey decided to say hello. It was kinda kinky I know, but pleasant none the less. The problem was, the pulse feature didn’t stop. The more the pager pulsated, the more aroused I became, and what could I do? I was stuck interviewing some fool on a stool and couldn’t very well unzip my pants and reach down into my crotch to turn off a pager. It didn’t let up. I didn’t want it to let up. I couldn’t concentrate. I lost my focus, or should I say my focus was rapidly shifting. The inmate on the other side of the glass was wondering what was going on, while I was revisiting the night before. It was when I asked the client about his drug history that I lost it: “Mr. Hernandez, how long have you been using hh…hh…hH..HH…HHHH….HHHeeeerroin?” whereupon I jettisoned a wad of ‘boys’ right into the pager which subsequently shorted out and began beeping loudly. With an expression on my face somewhere between euphoria and panic, I hastily ended the interview, wishing I had a cigarette, and exited the holding cell area as fast as I could, causing all the deputies down there to wonder what the hell was going on. Embarrassing as that was, my folly was only surpassed by the lame explanation I had to make up for my Supervisor as to how and why the pager malfunctioned and became sodden with a goo that was now turning crusty. “The battery blew up on me Boss”. He didn’t buy it. I wonder if the stain on my pants had something to do with it?

Although never really accused of any wrong doing, I was subsequently banned forever from wearing a pager at work.

Geezer-hood

Well, I think I’ve finally attained perfection and am now enjoying the bliss of reaching full Geezer-hood. Geezer is a term for a older man. It can carry either the connotation of age and eccentricity or, in the UK, that of self-education such as craftiness or stylishness (but we’re talkin’ about American Geezers in this here post so no style will be involved).

Who in their right mind would want to be a geezer? one might ask, when the stereotype is that of an angry decrepit old man who’s highly opinionated, resistant to change and only feels happy after he’s off loaded a warm one in his adult diaper.   I have opinions sometimes, and strong ones, and even feel that people who don’t agree with me are  shit-heads.  But I know all “opinions'” have no real substance, are mental states and tend to enslave you.  For me, Geezer-hood is more about freedom than anything else.

The female counterpart to the Geezer is a Crone.  Stereotype: and elderly, cantankerous woman who is ugly and lives alone. But in older societies a crone was a post menopausal woman for whom  the flow of the menses has stopped; the Sacred Blood of Wisdom is finally retained inside the body, and the woman herself can partake of its Wisdom. At this time she becomes known as crone or hag, words whose original meaning is ‘wise one’, a revered elder.  Wow…that’s far out!  I didn’t know the old hag I’m living with was a crone 🙂 **

So the freedoms I enjoying as I enter into full geezer-hood are many and liberating.  Take lack of testosterone for example.  Boy am I glad I’m running out of that shit.  They ought to classify that stuff as a dangerous drug.  No longer is the pursuit of poontang my first priority. It’s nice to have a clear head once in a while.  However, a little toke of testosterone before going to the Gym in the morning  would be nice.  I sure wish there was a testosterone plant that I could grow in case I needed a hit now and then.  But until that time, I will just have to look longingly upon my zucchini plants.

Being able to wear your favorite clothes everyday is neat.  If I don’t want to get out of my pajamas; I can wear em all damn day.  Same thing with shaving.  I’ve dragged a razor over my face for close to fifty years.  At first I thought that was cool because I’m becoming a man.  Now it’s just a pain in the face ass.  Oh yeah…eating whatever you want, when you want is nice too.

Shopping is something one leaves behind after attainment.  Doesn’t mean you never buy anything, it’s just when you do, you go to exactly where it is, on which aisle, grab it and get the hell out of there .  Now a geezer Buddie of mine actually goes shopping with his wife!  But, here’s the good part, he never goes inside the stores.  He sits outside in his car and reads a book.  A win-win situation if you ask me.  And he’s doing something with his wife, other than that monthly, whether ya need it or not, marital bliss thing.

I must confess however that I actually went shopping with the wife.  She got it into her head that after twenty years we needed new furniture.  News to me;  my ass-print was firmly etched into my favorite sofa, so I saw no need for change.  So she dragged me to a Lazy Boy showroom.  I found a recliner, parked my butt in it, and the next thing I knew was we was buying a sofa and two recliners.  The ultimate in geezer heaven:  His and Hers recliners.  Now all we do is argue over who gets to have the remote.

So ya get the general drift of where I’m going with this (and it’s not down the tubes).  Fully embracing Geezer-hood is about freedom, being who you are, not giving a damn what others may think, being as care free as possible.  Livin’ life and havin’ fun.  Embrace Geezer-hood; give it a  a big hug; ya might find you like it.  Ladies, I’d caution you to make sure your Geezer has cleaned up a bit before giving him a big hug.

**Good thing the wife finds my blog not only embarrassing, but so offensive and vulgar that she never wants to read it.