mind expanding nonsense

Archive for December, 2014

Heaven

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When I die, I’m goin’ to Heaven.  Or so I thought at one time cause I sure didn’t want to go to Hell.  Ya ever wonder what Heaven is gonna be like when we finally get there?  I’m dying to know.  [Couldn’t let that one pass – but it is too bad that only dead people really know what Heaven is like – the living can only guess, or take it on the word of others  who are only guessing].  All I know for sure is: in Heaven everybody has wings, plays a harp (not the blues harmonic variety) and has a halo over their head.  And…there’s no sex!   Nope.   The Apostle Paul (a life long bachelor) said that in the resurrection we’ll be like angels and that we’d all be one, neither male nor female, in Christ.  Sounds like a great big group hug to me.

Aside from no sex, which would be alright with me cause I’m almost there now, but would still like keep the option open, Heaven must be a very relaxing place.  Stress free, very mellow.  If there’s realms in Hell like Dante said (I worked in one for 30 years), there must be realms in Heaven too.  God has got to be at the top, with Jesus right next to him, the Apostles under Him and so on.  For someone like me who just barely qualifies, there’s got to be lower or entry levels.  Still good, but not up there with the saints like Mother Theresa and Tammy Fay Baker.  That’s cool with me.  I’ve always preferred to do my own thing.  But in heaven, my thing will no longer be sinful.  Maybe that’s another reason why there won’t be sex in Heaven.

I wonder if you can hang-out with your friends up there in Heaven?  Being with your loved ones all the time can get pretty boring.  It was back down on earth.  Sadly, a lot of my friends won’t be up there with me.  They’ll be burning up in Hell, having all the sex they want, and I’ll only be able to look down upon them with fond remembrance while they’re screwing their brains out.  [The reason there’s so much sex going on in Hell is not because it’s such a loosely run wicked place.  Hell no!  Satan is in firm control.  It’s because Hell is the opposite of Heaven, and if there’s no sex in Heaven, well there’s gotta be a lot of it in Hell, or so the logic goes.  Plus, Hell is a place of punishment, so all that sex isn’t meant for your enjoyment but rather torture so you can suffer for your sins (usually too much sex) for all eternity.  See, in Hell you gotta have sex all the time, with no breaks, and with the same person for ever and ever amen.  If you had an ex-wife*, she’d be the first candidate.

Too bad Heaven isn’t somewhere here on Earth.  People would be lined up for miles to get in, even if it were held in some retirement community clubhouse.

*Or ex-husband as the case may be.  Although everybody in Heaven is asexual (mens penises fall off during the resurrection**, making Heaven a truly heavenly place cause ya don’t have to get up three times a night to pee), everybody in Hell is fully sexed which adds to the sexual tension which is part of the eternal punishment, plus, there’s no K Y Jelly (too flammable).  God does work in strange ways.

**Next time you’re outside and feel something plop on your head, it may not be from a bird, but just some old geezer wafting his way up to heaven.

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Death Leaves Everybody In The Dust

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Don’t know where I came up with that one.   Maybe it was going to the funeral of a college classmate’s father.  He was 87 (the father not the classmate).  The trippy part was the memorial service which was held in a Lutheran church located in the mostly retirement community of Sunland California. [ I love how a lot of retirement communities have Sun in their name, like Sun City Arizona, implying that it’s always warm there which makes your arthritis feel better.  If I ever go to one, I’d pick Leisure Village.  There ya don’t have to do jack shit if ya don’t wanna.]

This Lutheran church blew my mind.  I was raised in the Lutheran church (aka Catholicism lite) as  a kid singing in the junior choir, going to Sunday School and confirmation classes, followed by a Lutheran High School, chased (but not chaste) by four years at a Lutheran college.  With all that Lutheranism, you think I’d end up pope or something.  But no, I back-slid while away at Lutheran College, and haven’t been back since.  I figured that being born once was quite enough, and spiritually have come to lean more towards Buddhism than anything else.

Anyway, while enjoying all this mind-blowing deja-vu, I looked around and found that everybody there attending was in their 80’s.  My gawd I thought (maybe because I was in Gawd’s House) that could be me in twenty years – if I’m lucky.  Certainly a bigger dose mortality awareness than what I was ready for.

That’s when I had my big flash that death leaves everybody in the dust.  Kind of a double entendre with the dust to dust thing, but meaning more like being left behind in a race when you decide to stop running and everyone leaves you in the dust.  The dirt nap.  You’re left behind and do nothing new anymore, just the same ol’ thing…napping in the dirt.

A lot of rock musicians have died young.  I listen to a lot of them: Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, Stevie Ray Vaughan etc.  Sometimes I wonder, “what would they be doing now?”  What would Hendrix sound like in 2014?  More blues, or into jazz?  Who knows.  They are no longer participating in a meaningful way.  They’ve been left in the dust.

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Getting A Grip On Christmas

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I don’t know about you,  but if I never celebrate Christmas again it’ll be fine with me.  Christmas, or the Christ Mass, was once outlawed in some early Puritan colonies.  If caught enjoying a little too much Yule Tide revelry, one could get fined.  That would’ve been fine with me too. [Funny how even back then, local governments found a way of taxing the hell out of all the vices people were indulging in, while maintaining an attitude of superiority.  Kinda like legalized marijuana today: “Oh how evil, but…we can make a shit-load of money off of it.”]  Talk about Christmas becoming expensive.

Actually, I like some of the non-christian winter solstice aspects of the season.  Everything about Christmas reeks of paganism, and rightly so.  I can tell that things are changing, and that’s it’s no-longer summer, even here in southern California.  Leaves are falling off trees, the days are getting shorter, and the sun, which we depend upon to power our solar panels, is getting lower and lower on the horizon.  Almost looks like it could fall over the edge of the world.  If that were to happen it would be the end!  Can’t let that happen.  Better sacrifice a few virgins.  Fortunately that never happens, and the sun comes back bringing with it life and re-birth.  (Must be those annual virgin sacrifices.)

I heard this segment on NPR about a businessman who got on a three hour flight, and much to the consternation of the passenger sitting next to him, completed all his Xmas shopping on-line during the flight.  Wow!  Was I impressed.  No stores (of the ‘brick and mortar’ type), no parking lots full of fools who can’t drive, no fighting over sale-priced items, and no lines at cash registers.  Just find what ya want, being ever vigilant to read all the reviews regarding the item, click purchase and it’s in the mail to ya the next day.  Often times cheaper than what you’d pay in the stores.

How cool…I did that too.  Got a list from The Wife, and within an hour, was able to buy everything online while sitting on my ass.  I did have to go to a local sporting goods store for my daughter and her husband.  A box of 9mm shells for her and boxes of shotgun shells for the son-in-law.  They’re into guns and duck hunting (a real liberal’s nightmare), but I can handle that because I’m a liberal sort of guy.  After all, I like to fish, so I can understand the hunting thing.  Instead of pulling slimy creatures out of water with hooks, they like to blast birds out of the air with buck-shot.

Have a nice Christmas everybody.

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ebay

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I’m not a high-tech kinda guy.  Yea, I have a website, know how to digitally Photoshop my crude bathroom wall drawings, and sometimes, even actively communicate with other bloggers.  I have e-mail, and have lately taken to on-line banking, paying my bills on-line (that postage was staring to get expensive).  I guess that’s pretty high-tech, but I don’t have a cell phone, and don’t do Facebook.  What a total waste of time that is, unlike of course, blogging which is a total un-waste of time.

I’m more an analogue type of guy, and have the record collection to prove it.  Well over a thousand 45’s from the golden age of rock and roll (1955 – 1965), plus hundreds of albums from the 60’s and early 70’s.  I listen to that stuff almost every day, on a 45 year old Pioneer tuner-amp, with two 12 inch speakers.  Don’t get much better than that.

And speaking of the best of two worlds, I’ve just discovered ebay (they never capitalize it).  Wow!  No more rummaging through thrift stores, no more fruitless garage sales.  Now old Hansi can sit on his ancient ass, in the comfort of his own home, well medicated, and get on with the business of re-living his youth by re-buying every record he had as a youth. [Re-living my teenage years is not all that great.  Yea I was younger, but I was also horny all the time back then and had little opportunity to solve the problem without taking matters into one’s own hands.  Being a senior citizen is far less frustrating (except when ya have to pee).  I’m rarely horny, and I like it that way.  So does The Wife].

The cool thing is:  Everything you could ever want is on ebay.  All ya gotta do is make a bid.  It’s kinda like an auction, but not like the stock market, which is more like a casino. Not only can you be as obsessive-compulsive as you want in accumulating worthless shit (in my case records), but you can also be competitive!  I’m a little competitive in nature.  I like being the best at something (like blogging).  So a little competition is okay…as long as you always win.  But you don’t always win on ebay.  That’s because you’re not the only obsessively com-pulsed fool out their who wants a certain item as cheaply as he can get it.  There’s flocks of other fools equally (if not more so) com-pulsed as you, who are even cheaper bastards.   All ya have to do is be the highest bidder.

Here’s the part where money talks and bullshit starts to walk.  You gotta try and figure out how badly  those other bidders want the same item.  As bad as you?  Then you gotta pay up, or have a ‘strategy’.  You can place an automatic bid with a top dollar amount.  Or, see what the bidding is during the time it’s for sale (there’s a running clock and emails warning you when the bidding stops).  You never want to be too early in placing your last bid.  It’s best to wait for the last seconds before shooting your wade financially; don’t wanna pay more than ya have to.  Thing is, those other guys are competing with mutually equal contempt, trying squeeze you, hoping to have what should be rightfully yours.

Usually it’s not like that, at least for the crap I’m interested in.  A lot of times, if a thing hasn’t sold for a while.  The seller will lower the starting bid, or let you ‘Make a Bid”.  That’s when you can really be a cheapskate, and low-ball the seller, who is obviously desperate to get rid of it.  Pretty cool.  I call it cellar the seller. I get a lot of albums that way. All I gotta do then is Pay my Pal, and wait for the mail to arrive.

Great way to digitally get all the analogue I want.

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Swing-divels

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I was gonna call this one Schwing-divels (more Germanic), but thought I should tone it down a bit.  Don’t want to be too suggestive, tasteless, vulgar, or in anyway offensive, as it might turn your stomach to the point of puking.  Then you’d run the risk of stepping in it.

Nope.  I’m cleanin’ up my act.  No more foul mouthed bathroom humor loaded with innuendo from yours truly.  Just good wholesome divel-swinging.  Which can be quite satisfying.  Ya just don’t want to do it in public…might get arrested.

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Phucking With Phone Scams

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I’ve come out of blogging retirement lately, not because I’ve become bored with the use of medical marijuana for all my ills and suffering, but because something really pissed me off, and what better way to vent than by blogging about it.  One of the worst things that can happen to ya when you’re enjoying the therapeutic benefits of herbal medications, is to get a phone call from someone trying to sell ya something.  And even more worse (not to be confused with even more wurst, which often times happens when the ‘munchies’ kick in), is getting a phone call from someone trying to rip you off right in the middle of  ‘In A Gadda Da Vida’.

A while ago, I got a phone call from someone with a thick Indian accent, stating that they were a “windows technician”, and that there were some virus files on my computer which needed immediate fixing, and that they would walk me through a repair if I’d immediately get on my computer and follow their directions.  Oh shit!  Even though I wasn’t blogging any more, I still had a ton of music mp3’s saved, and would hate it if I lost all that good music from the 60’s.  But then I started thinking: Since when does Corporate America ever call ya to replace the shoddy crap they’re sold unless they’re threatened by a class-action lawsuit?  I decided to pass.

Well, I did a little research and found that the latest phone scam was persons posing as ‘Windows technicians’ trying to gain access to your computer via this fix scam, and thereby access all your valuable information like passwords, bank accounts and XXX rated emails from horny housewives and Asian hotties. Phew…glad I dodged that bullet.

nov 15 003Sure as shit, a few days latter, I get another call from a “Windows technician” with same spiel.  Thick Indian accent, I could almost smell the curry wafting over my phone line.  Reminded me of a few cheap motels I’ve stayed in.  Playing along, I let them go on a bit, then layed into them.  Asking how things were in India (pronounced In-ja), was it monsoon season, and accusing them of being criminals, questioning whether this shit was legal over there.  Really ripped them a new one.  But, they got in the last word.  The guy on the other end called me a ‘mother-fucker’ and hung up.

Okay, I was pissed.  Maybe he was technically correct in calling me that for I do have children, and, have had sex on a few occasions with their mother (you could count the number with your fingers and the toes of your right foot (not to worry if you’re an amputee – you’d be in the ball park), but being called a mother-fucker is fightin’ words.   I swore revenge.

[From here on out I will not use the F-word, as my intention is not to offend you my dear reader, but the mother-phucker who call me a mother-fucker].

I was ready.  And sure as shit, so were they.  I got yet a third call, a woman this time, and was very polite.  But before we could go any further with my computer repairs, I told her that one of their ‘technicians’ called me a mother-phucker.  And before we could proceed any further, I needed an apology from the mother-phucker who called me a mother-phucker.  “Is it a practice of the Microsoft Corporation to call their customers mother-phuckers?”  “Is the company run by foul mouthed mother-phuckers?” I asked.  I went on to tell her that ‘mother-phucker’ was a very offensive word, and while that shit might fly in India, it sure don’t over here in the good ol U S A.  “In America”, I said, “Jesus is our god, not some goddamned elephant, and He don’t take no liking to folks calling other folks mother-phuckers unless we’re going to war with them then its open season on their phucking asses”.

I guess you get the picture.  I wouldn’t let her get in a word edge-wise without me using the M F-word.  It was better than the South Park movie.  Revenge was sweet.  Guess I showed them mother-phuckers.

 

 

 

Thanksgiving 2014

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I don’t know about you, but I’m sure glad Thanksgiving is over and done with.  The Wife and I have been hosting it (mostly for her side of the family) for over 35 years.  Damn, that’s longer than I worked in Probationland.  Sure as hell was a lot of work.  Thanksgiving that is, not being a probation officer.  That was easy.  All ya had to do was jump in people’s shit and threaten them with jail.  It was amazing what all that positive reinforcement could accomplish.

Thanksgiving and Probation are kinda the same.  You both end up dealing with turkeys.  Remember when calling someone a “turkey” used to be popular.  If ya don’t, you’re probably a turkey.  Being a ‘turkey’ was a fairly broad category, bracketed by being a total fuck-up on one side, and a complete fool on the other. [I preferred being somewhere in the middle].

Anyway, now that Thanksgiving is over with, we can get to the really good part of the year:  Black Friday and Cyber Monday.  My grandson said he wanted to go to Black Friday.  I told him I went once, but came away broke and with a pile of shit.  And taking the analogy even further, in a grandfatherly way, told him like-wise, that’s why ya never wanna go to a whore house (which I actually saw when in Carson City Nevada: Mustang Ranch and The Bunny Barn – the Cunt Corral was closed; The Wife wouldn’t let me go inside).  You not only leave there broke with nothing to really show for it, but risk the chance of picking up a sexually transmitted disease.  He had no clue as to what I was talking about.  Sometimes neither do I.

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