Will-s-Short-Stories

Will's Short Stories

Will’s Stories

The following pages contain short stories, poems, songs, and articles that I have written over the years. Please understand that a great deal of this is done for the fun of it and has no hidden meaning. Long ago God gave me the job of making fun of everything including God and I reckon I am doing pretty well at it as I have not been toasted yet!

When my Grandfather was 96 years old, two years before his death, I asked him what advice he could give a man. His answer after some consideration was this: If it moves fondle it. If it doesn’t move consider it most carefully. Don’t ever say no. He was married for over fifty years to the same woman and to my knowledge never fooled around. He may well have and it would not surprise me one bit.

Many years later I was standing in a bar in Sedona, Arizona and was playing around with some friends and that advice just sort of popped out in a Southern Baptist evangelical sort of voice. Thus was born The Church of Fornication. It has always been a joke and has always been fun to play with. Surprisingly there is now a congregation, a few Apostles, some converts from other religions and one very special person to carry on the work after I am gone. That special person is Julie Stewart, my former supervisor and very dear friend from my days as a 911 dispatcher in the communications center at Sedona Fire District. She is just as crazy as I am in this regard and also sees and appreciates the need for humor. She is the only true disciple in the church. Her name within the church is Grasshumper.

It is important that the reader takes this all in stride. There is no hidden agenda or effort to disavow anyone’s point of view. I accept all points of view. It is my hope that at least some of these things will bring a smile, a lesson or some thought. I have written many hundreds of short stories and there is simply no way i can post them all here. Way to much work to do so. I just picked a few; not the best perhaps or the funniest or the most informative but some that i like for whatever reason. Please enjoy.

Hell and the History Channel

I have been looking around to see if I can locate hell. There are only a few clues to go by.

Colder than Hell

Funnier than Hell

When Hell freezes over

Hotter than hell

Just for the Hell of it

Hell on Earth

Happier than Hell

Some of these clues are obviously contradictory, and I suspect done purposefully, to conceal Hell’s location.

The good part of this search is the available technology that is now online for a search such as this. We now have GPS, ground penetrating radar and satellite imagery.

Colder than hell might indicate one of the poles.

Hotter than Hell might indicate one of the volcanoes

When Hell Freezes over could be the refrigerator

Just for the Hell of it is very confusing

Hell on Earth could be anywhere at all

Happier than Hell is probably, in a mental institution

There has been a great deal of discussion about Hell throughout the ages and it crossed my mind that it could be time to actually locate Hell and drop in for a visit.

Lots of quite famous people are reported to be living in Hell, and I thought some interviews would be a cool thing to do; perhaps a series on the History Channel is in order. I bet it is. I am preparing my interview questions now. Here are a few that have come to mind?

Is English the common language here too?

Have you actually learned any English yet?

How is the school system, here in Hell?

Is cheating expected and condoned?

If you had it to do all over, what, if anything, would you do differently?

Is it true that you are tortured all the time?

Do you just love torture, now?

Is the word, Love, like swearing?

How are the women here? Are they truly easy and willing?

Is all the sex kinky?

Is all the whiskey free?

Is all the whiskey watered down?

How involved, really, is Satan?

How is the tourist trade?

Is it supposed to be this hot?

Where is the part that froze over; can we visit?

Where precisely is, hell on earth?

Is funnier than hell, somewhere around here?

Is it all horrible humor?

Why is all the lighting red?

Rumor has it, there is no way out, ever

Would you want out if the rumor is proved false?

Where would you choose to be, if you could get out?

How long is eternity, really?

Why are only stop signs here and red lights?

Did you get to interview with St Peter first?

How was interviewing with St Peter?

Did St Peter have an attitude when he announced your fate?

Do you think St Peter treated you fairly?

Does it matter to you, if he did?

Do you think St Peter has too much power?

Did St Peter allow even one peek, into Heaven?

Really, are all the women free and easy?

Do you think I can interview Satan?

Are all the monsters and gorgons as cute as I think?

Can I interview some monsters and Gorgons?

How important is Greek History here?

For that matter how important is history at all?

Does Satan have staff?

What is considered snappy dressing here?

Is there really such a thing as happier than Hell?

Is Hell happy? Can I see that part?

Are there community gatherings with Satan presiding?

How is Satan’s presentation; really

Does Satan have a good speaking voice?

Is Satan that good with a fiddle, really?

Does Satan ever do concerts?

How long, do you think, has Satan been here?

Does Satan always wear the horns and the tail?

You are going to let me out of here, aren’t you?

Do I want to be let out?

Really, tell me about the women and the whiskey

Are there taxes here?

Where is the politician’s area?

Can you show me to history’s worst people?

Is there a hierarchy here?

What was your qualifying, entry transgression?

Was your particular transgression, worth every bit of this?

Do you think Satan is a fair sort of guy?

How about God, do you think God is fair?

Does being fair actually matter?

Is chess the game of choice around here?

How about monopoly?

What are the most popular sports?

Are all the games fixed?

Do you ever win sports bets?

Is there a stock market around here somewhere?

Is the stock market in a constant state of failure?

Come on, can I interview Midas?

Is Hitler still pretty busy?

Everyone topside is waiting for the Hitler interview

Does he still have that little mustache?

What about those women and that whiskey?

Is the drug trade flourishing here?

I have seen no weapons. Why is this?

I have noticed a lot of very bad music

The choir really does suck

Do all suicides really end up here?

Does Satan’s definition match God’s definition of sin?

Who do you think actually is right on this one?

Can I interview the angel of death?

Is the angel of death as cool as I think?

Is he really just a talking skeleton dressed in black?

Is that scythe he carries, sharp?

Where do people keep their pets here?

Why is sulfur so popular around here?

Do they still call sulfur brimstone?

Where are all the computers and those single person shooter games?

Come on tell me about the women and the whiskey?

How’s the food here?

Is all the food too spicy and hot?

Any chance of a milkshake?

How about a cold beer?

Are maggots the common spice on the meat?

How are those maggots, really?

I have noticed all the worst and most irritating insects seem to be present

Do snake bites hurt all that much?

Are murder and mayhem sporting events?

How about pillaging and plundering?

Is rape a competitive event?

Is there some kind of Olympics around here?

Please, tell me, there is no health food here

Where are those inquisition folks anyway?

Do I get a tail too, and horns?

How about those cannibals?

Do they have a baseball team?

Are there pennants too?

Of course hot dogs are still served at all sporting events, right?

DO all the creepy, crawlers have their own area too?

Do vampires have a baseball team too?

What about Frankenstein? Is the guy for real?

Is eating human flesh stylish?

Where does the human flesh come from?

Does human flesh really taste like bacon?

Did Attila go through school?

Does he speak English now?

I would like to do a few segments on all the horrid rulers

Is that going to be a problem?

Can I meet some of those cheating women?

How are those women anyway and what about the whiskey?

Any dragons about I can speak too?

There is a lot of speculation about victims of war

Are some of them here too?

Were there any innocent victims of war, really?

What about that Paul Tibbets guy, who dropped the atomic bombs?

Is he about?

Is Judas available?

Is Judas still a snappy dresser?

How about the white whale?

Do Caligula and Nero room together?

There were some wonderful traitors; do they have their own area?

How about the real bad dictators?

Is there a dictator’s hour?

Did those martyrs of Islam really end up here in the end?

Are those virgins here?

Probably not I am thinking

How did Satan get past the virgin issue?

Are explosives legal here?

Is this place a construct of my imagination?

Is this supposed reality, a construct of some collective consciousness?

Where are all the bats?

Who currently holds the record for being the most vicious?

Who holds the female record?

Is there something like a Guinness book here I can examine?

Do you have a library?

What kind of books are in your library?

Are the books always late coming back, or lost?

Is rancid raw meat all there really is?

Are all manners strictly forbidden?

Are there clean sheets, anywhere?

There is a rumor that diarrhea is very stylish around here

Is there truth to the rumor?

Does ANYBODY ever WASH?

Where is Capone now?

How about those guys from the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre, ALL those guys?

How about those bankers?

Do ALL republicans come here, eventually?

Are there honors given for the most corrupt?

Has Satan ever married?

IF so was she ugly or good looking?

Who would have presided over such a union?

Is there some other kind of book you all get to swear on or at?

Do you raise your left hand when you do?

Billy the kid is big up top too. Is he about?

Is Dillinger rooming with anyone I should know about

Is Bonnie still fucking Clyde?

Did they get to keep all those bullet holes?

What’s the real story on the Bermuda triangle?

Any old Greek or Roman Gods about?

Seen scrooge lately?

I would love to meet those oriental assholes

They had style!

Are horror movies Satan’s way of self promotion?

What about those four horseman anyway?

Where are all those daemons ?

You know the cute scary daemons?

Is there another underworld sort of place?

Can we visit?

I just KNOW there are a shitload of Popes here

Do they give interviews?

I guess piety is not stylish around here

How about those flagellators

Do they have a team too? Do they bleed a lot?

Is blood a popular drink at the bar?

There is a bar, right?

What about a water sports, the other kind, popular or not?

Is feces on the menus at most restaurants?

Is anal sex more common?

I presume the missionary position is a no, no, true or false?

Is self abuse really as popular as reported?

What ever became of Jack the ripper?

Is torture optional or required?

Are all the women diseased?

Is aids the big hit one would suspect?

How about that Ebola?

Is plague as popular as it once was?

I have not seen a single rat. Where are they?

Are there a lot of squishy things?

I have not seen a single worm either, why?

Is starvation still pretty popular?

What is the one thing you truly love about Hell?

Is it actually possible to love anything at all, here about?

What about those Ravens and Crows?

Do you think God might just be a Prude?

Is Goddamned acceptable terminology here?

Have you ever witnessed Satan damming anyone at all?

If so how cool was it, really?

Where do you keep all the catholic priests, the child molesters?

Do they fuck each other now?

I really dislike the music. Is that the point?

I did notice a baseball game being played without a ball

How cool is that?

Did the word, carnal, originate here?

Any Goblins, Orcs, Trolls or other interesting critters around?

How about those wicked witches?

You can tell me, is Satan, Bi?

Does he do animals too?

Truth is never told, true or false?

Are spewing volcanoes a Satan expression?

Honor doesn’t live around here; true or false?

Is there anything worth stealing around here?

How about those mother stabbers and those father rapers?

How is evil defined here?

Any Baptist preachers?

Where do you keep all those Nazis?

Is there a prison here?

Are there TV sets and computers in prison?

Is there a liar’s guild and competitions?

Is divorce the norm?

Borrowing and not returning, normal or not?

Owing and not paying, normal or not?

Fucking your neighbors wife and then the neighbor, cool or not?

Where are those motherfuckers anyway? IS mother happy about this or not?

I suppose lewd behavior is considered perfect?

If there is no chance, are there still possibilities?

There must be a large collection from Washington DC.

Are they prevented from public speaking or interviews?

Who got all those wars going anyway?

If chocolate is really the food of the Gods, then what is comparable here?

Is a taste for feces acquired?

Eat shit and die; true or false?

Where is the root of all evil; Really?

Entrails for lunch? Interesting.

Can we go back to those wild women and the free whiskey now, PLEASE?

I think this a reasonable start for my series. I will submit a synopsis to the History channel and see if I can get some expense money. I am pretty sure the exclusive will be worth a great deal. Now if I can only locate Hell!

Fame REALLY Sucks

Life was pretty quiet for me, for the most part, growing up as a kid. Pound a few nails, cut a few boards, do a little fishing. Dad was a good teacher, and I now have some good life skills. Not worth a shit in death though. He actually agrees. He and mom have a quiet little spot here, and have somehow managed to keep her public, at bay. Good for them. They really do deserve it. I visit a lot. I still love her cooking.

It was when I decided to go for a walk; Sort of a walkabout; like the Aussies do now. Hell, even I don’t remember where I went; Seems like I recall way too much desert. Next time perhaps I will choose the mountains. Well too late now, actually. There will be no next time. I do have a few very fond memories though. Some fine women. Nobody cares about those, so I keep them to myself.

Then one day when I got back, I was walking across a shallow puddle and some idiot, who must have had a weird perspective, visually, of me doing this, starts telling everyone I can walk on water. It went downhill rather quickly after that.

The rumors started flying. People are so gullible. I had no choice really. The press was a real pain in the ass. I just happen to like white robes. I look good in white. What’s the big deal? Now they demand this saintly look. What the hell is that supposed to be? So I practiced in front of the mirror, on parental advice. They figured there might be a buck in the saintly look, so I went along. They were right of course, as usual. All those profits from the Bethlehem days were getting pretty thin about that time. Dad and I were pretty good carpenters though and we kept busy. Now I am famous.

Fame sucks. No privacy at all; People following me wherever I go. I do have some damned good speech writers though. Great material and I am told I have mastered the delivery. I wouldn’t know. I always tend to think there are better actors. That alone makes me strive to perfect the art.

I just wish they would get off this particular theme. I know I can do comedy, but no one will let me try. I just know I am going to be stuck in this one genre. The demand is just too great. People eat this shit up.

I have to hide the profits to, as it just would not do to flaunt my wealth. Mom and Dad take care of that end. I trust them. Wealth goes against the theme, and I do understand. The show is, really popular. Shit, what I wouldn’t give for some lobster and a good bottle of whiskey. I don’t care much for wine, I never have. Nobody believes me. That whole Chalice bit just took to great of a hold. I am not all that surprised, really, it was so well written. I did have to carry those other guys, such amateurs. You could see it in the portrait. The portrait came much later, but the artist caught it well. That guy could paint; pretty creative inventor too. He earned the acclaim, in my opinion.

The writers wrote in these twelve guys to tag along with me. Some had talent but most are just not worth a shit. They seem to have bought into the theme and are starting to believe this shit. I told them to get some real actors, some quality, but no they went with the budget instead, and now, I really am stuck with them. Even after death, they just keep it up. They have a pretty good following of their own now; Christians mostly. Christians are a gullible lot.

I never could hide from them either. I tried. I used to have a puppy. These guys are much worse. At least they are house broken; barely. They are sneaky as hell. The writers gave them way too much air time, and way too much drama, in my opinion. Mostly that came after I was dead, in an effort to keep the show alive I am sure. My opinion doesn’t matter of course. I am just required to stand around and give those speeches, as good as they actually are. Those special effects guys are real wizards; none better anywhere; Great miracles. Hell, even I believed them for a while. I guess if you see the big picture, it really is a hell of a production.

There really was only one diversion for me, and I had to sneak around for that. Good looking girl too. Not one ounce of piety. Mary Magdalene. That girl was a real talent, orally, in her time. We loved hanging out at the well in the sunshine. She set a new standard.

There is something historical about it all, something sort of timeless. That production is rated as the greatest show ever created. Even CSI, mash, scrubs, star trek, or many others never came close. The book was a best seller; the best seller of all time. It is still on the list. Still near the top.

Now I am dead of course, and in the end I have been proven right. Those twelve idiots got off track, as I predicted.

That whole dying on the cross business was highly overrated. It hurt like hell. I really wish they all had not taken this shit so seriously. I sure never did. I always thought I was too young to die. When they accused me of being some sort of messiah and the law got involved, I knew, I was well and truly fucked.

No lawyer, no defense, no jury, nothing but an angry mob. I think they hired a lot of extras too, but I will never be sure. I don’t want to know anyway. Hell I never had a chance, and I knew it. Fuck it, I thought, it will be that goddamned cross for sure. I was right. Being right did not help one bit. Pilot gave a masterful performance. It was an honor to watch him work.

There I was hanging on that cross and those speech writers just kept cranking out the material. I was expected to perform to. Never sign a contract you did not read completely. It was the fine print of course. The fine print will get you every time. It really was first class drama; some of my best work. Too bad Oscar had not been invented yet. That would have been some solace.

There is no solace in the longevity of it either. It still causes me trouble all the time. People still hound me. There are more of them too. A lot of folks have died since I did, and lot of them believed all that shit, those writers came up with. I quit signing autographs long ago.

Those Victorian women are the worst. They want it, they know it, they allude to it, but they just are not worth a shit, in bed. I have given up on them. There is just no teaching some people.

The Ivory snow gal, well, I seem to have forgotten her name. Anyway, she did this movie called deep throat, or something like that. She really set a standard, so I keep sending those Victorian women to her for lessons. I am sure they were too shocked to attend. Shock will do that.

She has a hell of a collage now. Women are clamoring to be admitted. Not those Victorian gals though. Prudish is a way of life for them. At least the Christians are getting over their piety here, well, a little anyway. Some habits die hard. Her collage is full of Christians. Mostly Catholics and Baptists though. Those Jehovah’s Witnesses just ain’t going to change. I really hate how they dress too; nothing sexy about any of it.

I have met God. He is funny as hell, and we had a great laugh over him being my father. He watched the whole thing. He told me he really loved the script, creative as hell. Of course I was flattered. He is now using my script writers. They are dead too, of course and he takes good care of them. I don’t mind at all. I am good enough to wing it now anyway. He uses my special effects guys too.

That guy knows every joke ever told and can spit them right out too. I have always had issues remembering jokes. I don’t know why. Perhaps those scripts affected me. It was all so serious. Serious was in vogue at the time.

He has a great heart; simply loves everything and everybody. In a way, I wish he had been my father. I actually do try to emulate him. He is a wonderful example for us all. He has had a long time to mellow though. He wasn’t always this way.

He shared some of that with me over a drunk one time. It was a good scotch if I recall. He doesn’t care for wine either. Something we have in common. I kind of felt sorry for him. Still, he is a whole lot better these days. It takes some pretty severe trials, sometimes, to learn life’s lessons, deaths lessons are like that too.

He is a better person for it all. He told me he really did regret that, first born bit. He paid for it too; had to change diapers on lots of dead children for years. He said he took it as sort of a penance and never minded.

He really is a great guy. We are very close. We dine together whenever we can, but we are both hard workers, and are stuck with these roles. Like to just get away and go fishing for a few years with him, but we both know it won’t happen. Just too much demand on our time. I thought I would have a lot of time here. It hasn’t worked out that way.

I guess death really isn’t all that bad, even for me. I have no real reason to complain. No one would listen if I did. I did get to do a comedy skit once; great material too. It was a total flop. I know why and I was not really hurt. I really do understand. That’s the real problem. Once you are stereotyped it just never goes away. I sincerely wish it would; Fat chance.

All I can really say is that I still love to wear the white robes. They somehow still seem fitting. The women still love the robes too, and I still love the women. so it works out. I suppose, I best get moving. My public is waiting, as usual. Put on my game face and out the door.

Jesus

April 2011

Genesis Revisited

In the beginning there was fornication. There was a lot of fornication. I think there was a little light; just before that, but for the most part it was all about fornication. Everybody fornicated; the birds the bees, the plants, the animals and of course all the humanoids. Fornication was a way of life, right up there with food gathering. Fornication got a well deserved entire chapter, in the Bible, too. It really was, that important.

Most all of the original positions were developed during this time with some very creative twists too. Most of these were copies of what observation showed, all the animals doing. No big deal. Oral sex however was an accident and totally indigenous to humans. No other critter ever thought of it; Silly them. This is the true difference between the species and what got humans off to such a good start.

It was never referred to as fornication in those early days. It was called begetting. Cool name but sort of obscure and inaccurate. If you ask me, we were fornicating. Fornicating by any other name is simply fucking.

Times were hard in those days. It got dark too soon, there was never enough food no matter how much foraging we actually did, and frankly when the sun went down, it was damn boring. What the hell else were we going to do? We fornicated. We were not all that hung up on gender in those days either. We fornicated with everything, animate or not. Oral sex actually came from fear of starvation, sort of like a placebo. It worked too, and is still common practice to this day. I doubt very much if starvation has much to do with it now.

We multiplied and we prospered. No one connected fornication with children. The little bastards just kept showing up, interrupting our fornicating and demanding attention. We fed the loud mouths to the dinos. For the most part those we kept were rather well behaved. Still they did get in the way of the fornication so we took to putting them in a pile in the back of the cave. It was a good solution.

There was not a great deal of emotion attached in our fornicating, our imaginations were not developed quite yet, so the actual act was mostly about friction and moisture. There was a great deal of friction and moisture. We were strong and healthy, except those who succumbed to the dinos, or bad luck. Luck was invented by then too. Luck has good points and bad.

We lived in small bands for the most part though we did have the occasional visiting band. That is when swinging was invented. We didn’t call it swinging of course. We called it cross fornication. I really don’t know why either. We were all quite happy and not cross at all.

This is when the very first installment of woman’s liberation came into being. They realized that fornication had VALUE and by God being entrepreneurial they went right into profit mode. They had figured out that a man was not going to get laid, unless the women wanted them too, and no amount of begging and pleading was going to make one bit of difference. Manipulation was born.

Women’s dress became competitive too. The sexiest woman got the most profit; Profit being measured in warm furs, lots of tasty food, a controllable man, and bragging rights. Neck lines dropped and hemlines rose. Fur was quite fashionable too in those days, and the better the fur the better the package. Silver fox was a big hit, even then.

The men started figuring how they could profit too, and pretty soon they started selling the women, to any man who would pay. Of course they gave a pittance to the woman for their trouble, but the women were pretty happy about the whole arrangement. They were already convinced that no single male individual could keep up with them anyway, so taking advantage of the situation was fine with them. Besides, they then had egg money, and that is always a good thing.

The children kept piling up in the corner at the back of the cave. Pretty soon the children started drawing pictures all over the cave walls, of all the fornicating going on, including animals. Those actually are not oversized penises shown in those drawings. Those are the real deal. God was more generous in those days and women more demanding. Probably a good thing: Civilization does have a price.

This kind of growth and technological advance took thousands of years. Much else was neglected. Things like pottery, metallurgy and the wheel. The men were actually pretty smart about all of this, and kept it under wraps, not one of them looking for work. The fornicating was the whole point of life and completely central to their entire existence. The women loved it and gloated. That’s when that all started; the gloating.

That big day when we all finally got out of the cave was really something. All the dinos had been run off or eaten and we were down to much smaller and easier to kill game. The foraging was going rather well. The men were happy, the piles of children were happy.

It only takes one. It usually does, but this was the first one; A real nutcase. Always flittering around like a butterfly and doing something called dancing in the sunlight. Pretty soon all the women were doing it. They moved damned well and the men loved it. A new dynamic was born. The men built a covered stage and sat in a circle and watched the women perform this miracle. Pretty soon they built fires around the stage for night performances.

Technology advances being how they are, and one thing leading to another, as they tend to do, The stage led to little covered shack sort of affair, to keep off the rain during these performances, to rather nice huts, to full on houses; some of those in trees. Somebody called it a village. Nobody knows what it means. Nobody cares. The fornicating was going full swing and profits were great.

The men paid homage in the only way they knew how and kept building stuff, and the woman kept asking in the only way they knew how, frequently. This progression set the standard for all future advances in mankind and the awesome technology he wielded. The other critters never had a chance. They never knew what hit them. The men didn’t either and they still don’t; fornication is that powerful.

Once the big move from the cave to the houses was completed, a vote was taken to determine the fate of that pile of children in the back of the cave and they were ultimately sprinkled like seeds, all about the houses. They took to it, too, and quickly learned that playing with each other made more sense. Those adults were nuts.

This is a record of the true beginnings of mankind and the values that were born then, and still prevail today. This is a testament to the tenacity and Will, displayed by those first adventurers, into that land of fornication; that land, which to this very day, rules it all.

May 2011

Joseph

My name is Joseph, and I have issues. Mary and I have been together for a long time now. I should think I know her pretty well. Then came this whole Immaculate Conception thing, and the whole dynamic between us, has gotten very weird. It was my fault, and I am paying serious dues, for that idea.

We used to have great sex. We would fornicate all over the place, even on the back of the donkey. Now I can’t even get laid.

I will never come back to Bethlehem either. These folks are stuck up and this is where it all got started anyway. No place to sleep but this goddamned barn and not one of these people had a kind word at first. Now I can’t get rid of them.

Mary and I have had some rather kinky sex, but I am having a hard time believing she ever cheated on me. There just was no opportunity as far as I can remember. I have gone over this very carefully and I just don’t see it.

Then these three Kings show up out of nowhere and tell me it was God that fucked her. What is that all about anyway? God who? Do I know this guy?

We have never had any secrets between us, but she won’t say one damned thing to me about this. Nine goddamned months and I never got laid one time. The Donkey is looking pretty enticing these days.

It was me that came up with the name Jesus. Do I get any credit for that? Hell no. On Sundays they have taken to having something called a Mass; damned if I know what that is supposed to be. One guy took to calling it, Christ, Mass. What the hell is a Christ anyway? The next thing you know they will make it a holiday.

These people in Bethlehem are nuts. They are praying to my goddamned son; Unbelievable. They leave all sorts of gifts too. I am rich now, and I can’t figure any of it out, and she isn’t talking. Being rich has a lot of drawbacks too. We are not supposed to talk about it. Hell I have been poor all my life, why the hell can’t I flaunt it a little?

I suggested us getting out of this goddamned barn and getting Jesus out of the hay, but everyone got on my ass about the suggestion. We have a public image now, I am told, and that must be maintained. I should care about a public image? Why can’t we just live in a nice hotel, get a little room service? Park the donkey for a little while?

These three Kings are really strange people. They defer to me all the time and just won’t stop praying to Jesus. Mary is eating this shit up and it shows. She has always had a very sweet smile that touches my heart. Now, like all new mothers she is glowing, and the smile is even sweeter, if that is possible. I tried discussing the business of God fucking my wife with the three Kings but they won’t talk about it either. Some kind of inside joke I think. I really wish someone would let me in on it.

The press is driving me nuts. They won’t leave me alone. They all want to know about God fucking my wife too. What the hell am I supposed to tell them? So I came up with this Immaculate Conception idea and they seem to be very satisfied. Sometimes I do come up with some good ones. I am not so sure about this particular idea though. I am still, not getting laid.

There are crowds surrounding this barn day and night. I can’t even take a piss without someone offering to hold it for me. Most of those are men. I have had some pretty lewd offers from some of the women. They all think I must be some sort of special stud. They don’t seem to understand that God is the stud not me. Well, that’s the story anyway.

I haven’t taken up any offers. I still hold my own penis when I piss too. I tell you though; if I don’t get laid pretty damned soon I might change my mind. Mary just gives me her saintly smile now when I bring it up. That smile is getting annoying now. Of course I can’t say anything about it.

I suggested moving on to Jerusalem, picking up a little plot of land, growing some olives, you know, the gentleman farmer sort of life? I wish I never brought it up. Mary just smiled AGAIN and those three Kings got right pissed off.

I keep trying to figure out what’s in it for them. Who are these guys anyway? Where did they come from? Don’t kings have a fucking job? I never asked for agents. Now I can’t get rid of them.

I sure hope all of this shit does not go to Jesus’ head. I simply won’t have it. I figure if I teach him how to pound nails and cut a straight line, it might help, but that is a long way down the trail.

What I want to know is: how can I get out of this fucking barn, and get laid? If I have to eat one more dammed piece of unleavened bread I swear I am going to lose it too. I want ROOM SERVICE.

Joseph

April 2011

Buddha

I was a skinny kid. I was the fastest runner too. I really don’t know what happened. Perhaps it was all the free food from all these people who insist on worshiping me. I guess I just got a little carried away. Now I can hardly stand, so I just don’t bother. Running is out of the question.

Most of my days are now spent sleeping, though they all believe I am meditating. That was after I told them what meditating was. I thought it a rather good idea. It certainly disguises my naps. The rest of the day is spent having a jolly look on my face. I rarely speak at all anymore. It is not required. They all speak for me, and who am I to argue? Argument takes away from my food, naps and my jolly look. I have carefully cultivated the jolly look; Hours in front of the mirror.

I seem to have lost my sexual drive and any interest at all in sex, for the most part. Shiva does keep after me but frankly anyone with that many arms has other issues that I simply don’t want to deal with. I have no intention of discussing mutations with any of these people. I have no idea how they did it either, and I don’t want to know.

It seems to me that it was that whole business in the wilderness, sitting under that tree that started all of this. It really wasn’t all that wild, in the wilderness, either. I was only a few miles out of town. Nobody ever talks about that part. The word, wilderness, carries all those connotations of supposed dangers. I grew up here. There is nothing out there that is going to hurt me that I don’t know about.

I wasn’t fasting either. I just was not all that hungry and finding food is hard work. I am lazy by nature. A shade tree and a nap are always my preference. Rather peaceful too.

Lately, I am told they are casting little bronze statuettes of me, and selling them in the marketplaces. There was never any discussion of any sort of commission for me, either. It does seem like I should make a little something from all of this. Some big stone carvings are starting to show up too. I think it is the jolly look that is responsible.

At first I just thought this was all a fad and that it would quickly fade. No such luck. It is getting worse daily. The good part is all the offerings. There is no way I will ever run out of chickens though I do tire of chicken dinners, no matter how they are prepared.

I used to love a good steak from time to time. Now someone decided they should be worshiped for some reason and nobody will eat them. Probably some health food nut, I’m thinking.

It is too late for me anyway. I am REALLY, fat, now and no amount of health food is going to change that one bit: Exercise; Not a chance. Just sitting here and eating is exercise enough in my most humble opinion. ALL of my opinions MUST be humble now. That too is a bit annoying.

Well I suppose it really doesn’t matter all that much as long as the food offerings keep coming in. I really love the incense too, though I am getting a bit tired of sandalwood. I can’t complain about anything at all either. I just sit here and take what is offered and keep the jolly look in place. What I wouldn’t do for some bacon!

It just amazes me how far people have taken this thing. Hasn’t anyone ever heard of common sense?

Oh well, it is time for a snack. I will get back to this at some point if I can find the time. It won’t matter in the end, anyway, if I do keep a journal. They would burn it anyway. Their opinion is much more important than mine, in their minds. Who am I to argue that either?

Looks like some kind of fish today; lovely.

Buddha

April 2011

Easter

It is Easter weekend again. Not one of my favorite days; Easter. Too much ash involved for my taste. Hell, half these people don’t even have a wood stove or a fireplace. Where do they get ash anyway?

I make it a point to stay away from the whole dyed egg thing too. Why fuck up a perfectly good egg? Who knows how toxic those dyes really are? Hiding EGGS in the grass? The chickens already do that. Why should I?

How stupid is a maypole anyway? Whose idea was that? The kids just get dizzy, fall down and ruin their clothing with grass stains that are a bitch to get out in the laundry.

Around here we EAT chicken and bunny. Doesn’t everybody? Sure they do, EXCEPT on Easter; unbelievable. There is something very hypocritical about the whole thing.

I don’t spend a lot of time in church either. Go for a week? Not a chance in hell. Go at midnight? What? Don’t they have better hours?

I am not making one damned promise, to myself, or anyone else either, that I have no intention of keeping.

The time of year sucks too. It is still snowing over half of the country. The maypole thing sucks in the snow. The eggs can’t be hidden well at all. There are TRACKS for the kids to follow. It makes finding them to damned easy in my opinion. You can’t get the kids to eat more than one egg anyway and I get stuck eating dyed eggs for two weeks. They are cheap though, this time of year so I do stock up.

Personally I prefer Columbus Day. You don’t have to do one damned thing on Columbus Day. Perfect.

Hummingbirds and Air Traffic Control

Every year they share their beauty and their inherent happiness with us all. They come in such a wide variety of color and size; their little nests, so delicate, and special. The egg, so unbelievably small, it is hard to think that there is a new life in such a small thing. It is in there though; Inside that tiny little egg.

Hummingbirds are their own sort of shared joy. Much like the flowers they serve, and that serve them too, they just provide their happiness without agenda, or any need at all, for recognition.

They do have some issues. They fornicate in flight. This is often cause for flight control issues. Some lack of attention and intention. Intention, focused on something quite different than the needs of flight. They also have no need for air traffic controllers though now I question this.

Yesterday just such an accident occurred. The little female and the male that was twice her size hit the glass of our front door and knocked the crap out of themselves. My friend David and I were standing right there.

The cats were not about, thank God, Off playing with Stanley no doubt. Stanley is our Chihuahua, our Jewish, Mexican Chihuahua, who thrives on kosher hotdogs. He will not eat any other kind of hotdog either. There was a suggestion that went around, for a while, that we get him a little hat, with religious overtones, but I quickly nipped that one in the bud. Stanly can buy his own damn hat.

Stanly is rather unique however, among the world of Chihuahuas. He is quite proud of his uniqueness too. He is very aware he is the first: The first, Jewish, Mexican, Chihuahua. He is rather famous in his own right; however it does not seem to have gone to his head. I think he should get a great deal of credit for this to. Not many Chihuahuas would have handled fame so well. They are an excitable breed, prone to seeking attention anywhere and everywhere.

I picked up the female and David the male. Being much lighter she did not hit quite as hard. Gravity and position make a large difference in accidents such as this. I don’t know if she was on the bottom or not, while all that fornicating was going on. I am sure it will all come out in the investigation. There will be an investigation, no doubt. The FAA always wants to investigate these sorts of accidents, check out the flight recorders, and such, to prevent such accidents occurring in the future.

I guess they got into the fifty foot club though. Fornication at fifty feet, or so, seems to be the norm for Hummingbirds. I somehow doubt if the mile high club is even an option. Even Denver reports, it is mostly taking place, this in flight fornication, at about fifty feet, and their inherent altitude, their place above sea level, does not apply for club entrance. No one is quite sure what the actual record may be for highest fornication altitude, for these little lovers. It is probably recorded in some hummingbird history somewhere. I am sure there are such records; The Hummingbird, Guinness book of records, perhaps.

We were honored to hold them in our hands, their little hearts going mad, in their confusion and fear. A little sugar water applied to those long beaks and tongues helped a great deal. They thrive on sugar. Sugar is a way of life for Hummingbirds. They are true sugar addicts and could care less, about either your judgment, or mine. I don’t judge them at all. Their lives are pretty short anyway and who am I to tell a humming bird, how to live, or what to value, anyway.

They already have a wonderful purpose and intent, regardless of their sugar addiction. It seems to be a controlled addiction anyway. I have never seen a hummingbird, in out of control flight, with the single exception of this business, of fornicating in flight. At that moment they just loose it all. They just don’t care one bit, about where they are actually going, and I don’t blame them at all. I too, have had this experience, though not while free flying. I have no wings so it is not surprising. Rumor has it though, that I will get my wings back, after death, so it is defiantly on my agenda, to try out this in flight fornication business. It just looks like a hell of a lot of fun. Good to have a plan, I always say.

I did join the mile high club once, however. It was a long overseas flight, and it was very boring. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. We weren’t the only ones either. Those little restrooms at the rear of the plane, had couples standing in line. Rather odd actually, as these restrooms are designed for one. It was always pairs entering, with intensity, clearly visible on their faces, and certain calm, evident when they came out. I felt that way too. The stewardess held a clipboard, and kept careful records. I don’t have any Idea why she did so. No plaque or certificate was ever awarded. At least I never got one. No big deal. I got laid at thirty three thousand feet off the ground, and that has its own reward.

The male had a slight concussion. One eye blinking rapidly, the other unable to blink at all. His recovery took a bit longer.

She paid close attention to me as I held her gently and spoke gentle words of hope and encouragement to her. She was very aware and I could feel it clearly. Her heart rate slowed and eye contact was very important for us both: This gentle meeting of different species, sharing these moments of care and wonder; her so very little laying there in the palm of my hand.

I could have held ten of her, she was that small. Her eyes, black as midnight, but sparkling in their own light, full of a much different kind of intelligence. It is still intelligence though, of that I have not one single doubt.

There was a moment when she let go entirely. She had no choice really. She was forced, by circumstances to trust without condition. I saw the moment occur in her intelligent little eyes, and there was a peace within me, projected to this tiny creature, of love and light. A treasured moment shared between species.

I raised my open hand to the heavens, slowly and with great care, encouraging her with feeling and word, to fly again, and she knew precisely was being asked of her. Her little wings began slowly at first then got their rhythm. She looked back for just an instant, and then flew off of my hand, up onto a branch of the nearby mulberry tree. It was a very short flight and she was still within easy reach. I put my hand out to her, as she sat on that little branch, and she was not afraid. She sat there for several minutes and then with a final look, off she flew, perhaps seeking a new male. The last one just could not control himself, and it was evident she was more than a bit disappointed in his overall performance. How the hell could he have missed the turn?

The male was still resting in David’s hand. By now our friend, Devron, was there and advising on treatment for hummingbird concussion. He knows all about this stuff. I have no idea where he may have received his education; Perhaps some college up North. He summers up north, in the cool and clear intention, of Mt Shasta, and winters with us here, to avoid being buried alive in the winter snows that always cover the slopes of that mountain. I don’t blame him either. Being buried alive is no picnic, or so I am told.

It was quite clear that the male was confused and embarrassed. He knew he had really blown it, with this drop dead gorgeous female. Now he had three males, of an entirely different species, as witness and he was embarrassed as hell. I don’t blame him. I think it may be some time before he gets laid again. Word travels fast among humming birds. It has too.

After a little while, the unblinking eye began to catch up with the blinking eye and he came into himself. He too finally flew off, in the same direction as the female. Perhaps he was thinking of apologizing to her and offering to try again. I doubt if he will have any luck though. She was pretty adamant about his failures, all clearly seen in her backwards glance as she flew off. He was invigorated from the sugar water and was probably horny again. Good luck with that.

This issue is between them, and pretty private, so we just kept out of the whole thing. There were other males flying about and I bet she was looking for one who could fly a whole lot better. I would not be surprised.

He had his chance and he blew it. Not an easy stigma to overcome among hummingbirds. Word travels quickly among them as I said. I bet he is really going to be hazed in the male locker room about sundown. He did have a rather dejected look when he flew off, already calculating how he was going to explain his failures to the boys.

Hummingbirds are not prone to lying, even the females which is an interesting thing all by itself. Honesty does abound, so I just have no idea how he was going to get around this little accident, an accident that is really big in the humming bird world. It actually could have been terminal and that carries much weight, regardless of their survival.

Humming birds bring blessings to us all and we were surly blessed by this slight contact, between species; One helping the other without agenda and the other trusting, totally, without agenda also; A rather rare event, even among those, of the same species.

An event like this touches a man’s heart; this moment when God is so obviously present, and all the love is so very evident too.

May 2011

 It’s Good to be the King!!

Anybody can be the king. You must know something about just about everything or some facets of it at the very least. Be able to hold an intelligent conversation with any walk of life and accept them as they are without judgment. Well, there will be some judgment because you also have experience. Being the king is not gender specific, race, color or creed specific. It is simply a point of view. You are not born into the job. The job is a gift with a few caveats. Just because you can do a thing in no way should imply that you should do that thing. If you speak a foreign language it is much wiser to not do so in that company. Often you will listen to conversations about you because they just don’t think to ask if you speak their language. No point in lying about anything at all. The truth is often bizarre enough and easier to keep track of in a sea of lies. To decide if one should do a thing the question must be asked: What is the value? The trade value and am I willing to barter in either direction? The commodity I possess is my time which is beyond price and I can throw in some expertise and experience. Most likely I will trade for far less than the value of my time because it feels right to do so. Trust your feelings. They are not always right. Judgment has nothing to do with feelings. The real and most important battles you won’t win but you will keep trying anyway. They tend to stay in a sort of limbo, not affecting much in either direction. They tend to involve emotion that can be painful. So what. All of that is the other side of the coin, the price paid simply for the experience of life. Emotional pain, physical suffering, mental abuse. There are many forms of bullshit on that side of the coin. The ones that matter you can’t avoid. You face them head on with reason, intelligence, speculation and question and a solution is always found because it is often simple engineering applied in a different way. You know how to apply a lot of things differently. Compassion is optional but to me preferable. Accountability is a must. Pay your own accounts first. You are always right. Don’t be shy about it either. If you aren’t right then who do you think will be? Do the right thing. Nobody need tell you what that is. Do they? You are not perfect in all of your actions and decisions and you get to pay those prices. You set the prices. You are a perfect soul and a perfect human so strive to be that. Strive to be more. Anyone can be less and often are. It don’t really take all that much to be the King. Not really. Mostly you just be who you are, not what others wish to see you as being. There are no gray areas. The light is either off or it is on. It is simple as that. To complicate that formula is to compromise and compromise takes something from you and gives nothing back. You already know you are right. A decision demands an action. Act. Be quick about it or get the hell out of the way. There is a distinct difference between an arrogant man and a man who actually does know of which he speaks. He’s not trying to be a braggart. He is making you smarter or more aware for the most part. Thinking is not free but the value is. So evolves the species. The only thing life has going for it is simply that it is never boring. The ride ain’t free but it is the only ride in town. Don’t just go along for the ride. The experience of life is interactive. Plug your ass in. Your head will follow. Ego is a sultry bitch and comes in many forms. Nothing there comes free and the price is far too high. You just ain’t that goddamned important. Where the line between good and evil, right and wrong, destruction and survival is drawn deep into the granite bedrock of your soul, right fucking there will you stand and you will own the God’s eye view, the overhead view that encompasses all perspectives, adding its own perspective and objectively viewing any situation into a rational, well thought out conclusion. You get to choose from the line you stand firmly implanted in and chose anything you like. Good or evil. Pick one. You will create a reality that will in fact manifest. You will do this with every single observation for your entire life.

Good to be the King? You bet it is, but there is no following for a following is only ego based and is an entanglement of its own. The reward? You can look into your own eyes, in your own mirror and you can love what you discover there.

Good enough for me.

June 2014

Who is that Dog Anyway?

After conducting a careful survey regarding the name of the dog in the Wizard of Oz, I was, quite frankly, rather disturbed, though hardly surprised, by the ignorance involved in this most simple of questions.

98% of those asked, “What is the name of the dog in the Wizard of Oz” answered, Toto.

2% didn’t know.

I thought 2% was some lack in milk, so I never buy it anyway.

This particular movie was a huge hit. It came out the same year as Gone with the Wind which had no dog at all. These two movies were the first movies, ever to be filmed in color. Color helped a great deal too. The blood in Gone with the Wind was much more realistic as were all the fires and explosions. The Civil War never looked so good. The poppies in Oz were very recognizable, albeit the wrong color, for the desired effect at realism. Those were, California Poppies; the State Flower of California. They have no medicinal value at all. There is no buzz in them. Not a bit. However the song “Follow the Yellow Brick Road” was gifted actual meaning. It just would not have worked out in black and white.

Oz was shown every single year, for years after I left home, and the voluntary requirement of watching it in my home, was long passed. It was an abusive household and this is clear evidence. Now of course the movie is so ingrained, I am convinced I have always loved it: Part of the brainwashing in an abusive home I think; effective, to say the least.

Dorothy is actually a child with severe issues. These issues were evident long before the old tornado showed up; serious social issues and a true fetish for the dog. She never went anywhere without the dog. Fortunately she was depicted as pre-teen though she looked anything but pre-teen, and in fact, could have been classified as futures. In the stock market, this means something that will come to fruition at some point in the future. In her case the future was indeed near. She was quite obviously destined to be a hot chick presuming of course she could survive Oz. She also had a wonderful singing voice at a time when you had to have a great singing voice, as audio edits just would not cut it. Do it right in the first take darling, or go find another job.

Somehow she got caught out in a tornado in Kansas. Nobody gets caught out in a tornado in Kansas, although I will admit pre warning for such storms was, limited at the time. It is still only about fifteen minutes or less today so, I still have issues giving in to this point.

The house flies away, complete with Dorothy and the damned dog and ends up squishing a Witch. She is advised it is a Wicked Witch and there is no fault, nor foul for squishing her. Murder has been condoned. What a wonderful example to set into a pre-teen mind, regardless if it was not, a pre- teen body.

Munchkins had issues too, the lollipop guild? What the hell is the lollipop guild and who taught those jerky dance moves anyway. Was this the precursor to the “Jerk” a dance that became popular many years after this movie?

The good Witch was really much too pleasant for my taste. She was obviously a whiner. This became clear the moment she opened her mouth. She also had nothing to offer either in regards to help, except to steal the ruby slippers off the dead witch; the murdered one. Theft is condoned by this good witch? Good has a different meaning in Oz apparently. Dorothy was gaining a whole new set of values and she had not even started out on the Yellow Brick Road yet.

The first guy her and the dog run into, is the Scarecrow. Once he finds out she is “off to see the Wizard” he’s in, drags himself off that post and proceeds to scatter his innards everywhere. Sort of knocked the stuffing out of himself. He never once makes a stupid comment, though he does claim to be brainless, which is significantly different than clueless, and is quite sure there is something for nothing somewhere down the Yellow Brick Road, as long as he can put up with Dorothy’s neuroses, regarding getting back to Kansas. She just won’t quit bitching about this either.

The next adventurer is the Tin man: Rusted Solid, standing there with an ax. No worries, there is an oil can, RIGHT there, that he must have overlooked while rusting was taking place. Rusting is a slow process. Frankly I see no excuse for this oversight. He claims to be missing a heart and won’t quit crying about it either. Crying is an emotional response that is associated with matters of the heart. I think the bastard was lying all along.

Then comes the lion, who Jumps right out and ATTACKS a metal man who has an AX, knowing full well, that Ax is going to hurt like hell, and all the claws in the world, are not going to penetrate that armor. No he was no, coward, stupid perhaps, but no coward.

Regardless, of this, accurate, analyses, there is more. ALL of these characters had real issues. They held hands a lot, which could imply something in regards to sexual preferences. They also danced nearly the whole way to Oz which could be associated with sexual proclivities too. It was billed as a musical however, so I am willing to overlook this tidbit.

After an adventure, here or there, along the way, including the first contact with the OTHER, wicked witch; The Sister. Who knew? She was pretty handy with fire, flew a mean broom and had the perfect voice for the part. There is no mention of another good witch; Perhaps an only child? If the odds were always two to one until Dorothy showed up and committed the murder, squishing, the other Wicked Witch with her whole house (a bit of overkill perhaps?), it is no wonder Gilda was a whiner. She never had a chance. She did have the disappearing act down though, which is of course symptomatic.

The foursome, five some, if you count the dog arrived in the field of poppies, their goal clearly in sight, and fell sway to false advertising and got very high; A perfect example of the placebo effect. These were CALIFORNIA poppies. Since the movie was likely filmed in California for the most part, this is not all that surprising. Californians will do anything to get high. Banana peals even went around for many years.

Finally they get to talk to the Wizard, but it is not the Wizard at all, and HE tells them to go commit ANOTHER murder before he will do one damn thing for them; Different values and different laws in Oz obviously.

Off they go, after a nice bath and a haircut, to seek out the other Wicked Witch; the other sister, the live one. After another adventure or two, some more dancing and singing which culminates with an invasion of flying monkeys who were pretty scary but totally unbelievable. Flying squirrels, yes (everyone KNOWS Rocky for Heaven’s sake), Flying Monkeys, no.

This was also the first time severe rape was ever filmed. It was truly horrible, what those monkeys did to that scarecrow. I honestly don’t know how he survived. His innards were scattered everywhere. It may be that some great lesson was learned or perhaps some enjoyment or pleasure was experienced, as he WAS still smiling.

Eventually a confrontation does come about and the Wicked Witch says to Dorothy, “I’ll get you my Pretty, (loved the way she said this) and your little dog TOO.”

Now one might consider that this Wicked Witch was much older than Dorothy, much more experienced in the ways of the world, was quite familiar with pets as is evidenced by her trained monkeys and was very wise in the ways of witchcraft. She probably had earned her Master’s by then.

Dorothy on the other hand was quite young, inexperienced, a known criminal, with limited education (she cut classes a lot to play with the dog), could not hold on to her own footwear and only compounded the murder charge with grand theft ruby slippers AND had spent her entire time in Oz with these very strange characters, one of which was recently horribly raped, and would not discuss it with anyone. This is not a very bright young lady. She also displayed what was apparently spontaneous singing and dancing. This kid had real issues.

Frankly I would not trust her to do one damned thing.

Dorothy called the dog “Toto”.

The Wicked Witch called the dog “TOO”.

Which one do you actually believe?

I will go with education every time, in matters such as this.

I rest my case!

May 2011

(Is THIS possibly Nobel Material? LOL)