Goodbye

(11)

Been a really weird night, as Judeo-homo-hackery has consistently interfered with my blog.

So I may have to end this. You may have read all there is to read from me. If so, then I want to assure you that I never lied to you: whatever you read here was the truth.

I want you to understand furthermore that I do not give a fat fuck about you. To put it another way, I do not give a sorry shit about you. I do not love you. I never loved you. I will never love you.

If you die tomorrow I will not shed a tear.

So this is my goodbye.

If you find your sorry selves here again next friday night then beware: I might be in a very bad mood.

Maybe

(10)

At this point I realized that my drunken state was no match for Judeo-homo-hackery.

See you next week. Maybe.

I Know - You Don't Know

(9)

This idea brings us back to LSD. I have done LSD. You have not. Think about that.

I know, and you don' t know. But you think you know! This attitude puts you in the same category with Kelso and Reynolds, who don't know but who think they know.

Another nine?

(9)

I love the idea of 'Cargo Cult.' I've mentioned this previously in connection with the movie, Mondo Cane. The movie described a phenomenon which arose during WWII. The aboriginal natives of New Guinea, observing the amazing activity surrounding American bases, conjectured that their dead relatives were sending 'mana from heaven' so to say, but that it was arriving at the wrong places. They conjectured that the Americans had fooled the gods into delivering cargo to American bases.

So they constructed their very own 'airbases' on tops of mountains, hoping to attract cargo which rightfully belonged to them. It was a failure of modern scientific understanding.

Most of the old Cargo Cults have long since disappeared, but there is at least one Cargo Cult which survives to this day.

This particular Cargo Cult involves psychoactive drugs, which may be a factor.

Did Jesus Have Body Odor?

(8)

As you already know I am not a big fan of old and odious ideas. I like new and fragrant ideas. This 'olfactory preference' leads me to reject the major modern religions which are old religions. Those old religions stink to high heaven, all of them: Judaism, Mohammedism, Christianity, they all stink! My nose rebels in the face of such old and odius 'religion.'

In fact, those old Religions resemble the farts of other people. The farts of other people are 'disgusting,' whereas our own personal farts are 'interesting.' So it is with our personal religions. Our personal religions are interesting because they are OUR religions. The religion of the other is disgusting because it is the religion of the other. Religion resembles, on some level, a fart.

Thus I must confess that I am enamored of my own new personal religion while rejecting the old and odius ideas which I inherited from my parents.

You 'cognoscente' out there would no doubt take issue. You would quickly point out that Buddhism (for example) is not entirely beyond the pale, that The Buddha was the first psychologist, predating Freud by two thousand years. You would further point out that modern versions of Buddahism allow for the modern esoteric drug movement (LSD, DMT, Ganja, etc.).

You would be correct up to a point. I think.

Past the Age of Paying Taxes

(7)

So I wonder about Arapahoe County Colorado. Is this the best they can do: A deputy with a room temperature IQ? (That would be YOU, Kelso.) A psychologist with serious emotional and/or ethical problems? Is this the best they can do? If so, I am happy to be past the age of paying taxes.

I plan to attend the next HOA meeting. Next time I will probably be a little more aggressive. Stay tuned.

Suck on That, Mister Reynolds

(6)

After I hung up I told kootch that it was Shabby Shawn and that 'for a while there I was afraid he was going to offer to suck my dick.' Kootch laughed.

Shabby Shawn's approach was in direct contrast to Denise's approach. Shabby Shawn arrived with a theory set in stone, whereas Denise arrived with a theory subject to change. Denise listened. Shabby Shawn propagandized. Denise was open. Shabby Shawn was closed (several taps from above as I wrote that). Shabby Shawn was bought and paid for. Denise was still holding out.

Has Denise since 'seen the light?' Time will tell.

Shabby Shawn Strikes Again

(5)

More on that subject later, I suppose.

Shabby Shawn called me the next day. I never answer the telephone. Kootch introduced him to me as 'Arapahoe Police.' She handed me the phone. I was expecting to talk to a cop but it was only SS.

SS then began speaking to me in what can only be described as a grotesque affectation of empathy. It was remeniscient of his first call to me. SS talked to me as a female Marine might talk to a bereaved mother who had just lost her son in Iraq. SS was soooo sorry that I was soooo psychotic and brain-damaged, and wondered if there was anything he could do to alleviate my desparate situation. My skin began to crawl.

SS said to me that he understood my 'fear and anxiety.' I replied to SS that the only thing making me 'anxious' was people like him who thought they knew more about what is going on here in my own home than I do.'

SS then sort of pulled out of the conversation, saying that I had his number and that I could call him at any time.

Interesting People

(4)

Later, as I thought about what had taken place, I wondered whether I had lied to them. Had it really been that interesting? And if so, why had I left the scene so suddenly. I eventually arrived at the conclusion that it had been simultaneously boring and interesting, that I had not lied to them.

For example, it was interesting to see Denise there with (probably) her husband. It was interesting to see the members of HOA there. The 'tone' of the meeting was interesting. The people were interesting. The subject matter was boring.

This goes to the heart of my problems with meetings: interesting people, boring subject.

An Interesting Meeting?

(3)

I showed up at the most recent (tuesday) HOA (Home Owner's Association) meeting expecting to defend myself (tap) against the bogus charges by an unknown 'resident.' I arrived at about 1900. Most of the people who eventually attended were already there. I was not looking forward to the occasion: I dislike 'meetings.' I also dislike 'public speaking.' Indeed, I have an actual fear of speaking in public, which often goes so far as to manifest itself when I talk to 'officials' such as police officials, for example. This particular fear began to manifest itself back in the days when I was still flying airplanes (tap) as a flight instructor: I developed such a fear of talking on the airplane radio that my voice was severely impaired when I attempted to do so. But that is another (though related) story.

So when I stood up to announce my reason for 'being there' (to answer the charge that we had been making unacceptable noise in our apartment), my poor voice was very strained compared to the other folks there who seemed to have no problem at all 'bloviating.'

Denise (TMMC) replied that the person who had made the charge had withdrawn said charge. She did not elaborate. A member of the HOA then volunteered that he 'was aware that TMMC and I were involved in some (phone line disconnected at that point) sort of dialog and that his advice to me was to 'cooperate.' He did not elaborate.

Relieved that I need not spend time there I then informed those present that, 'Well, it's been interesting but I have better things to do.' I then walked out. An old woman about my age followed me out. I turned around to her and said something like, 'I hate meetings.'

She seemed put off by my attention and so I walked home. I enjoyed the rest of the evening.























































































































































































































































































































































































































































8

Blogger Hacks

(2)

The first post, titled 'The Cable Guys,' is located back in the previous week's posts. Seems some hacker has removed date/time control (tap) from my blog. I'm not exactly in the mood to troubleshoot the problem, so I'll go with it for now and troubleshoot it when I'm sober. The problem is that I began with an unpublished (tap) draft from last week and was not able to change the date and time. How do they 'get into' my blog? Beats the hell outa me... Why do they do it? I think it's probably some sort of ego problem.

I also just noticed that there is now a 'link field' below the title. Oh, well.

Nighty-night!

(13)

Ten degrees below zero out on the patio. Time for me to hit the sack.

Is Jesus Anti-Anal?

(12)

Let me be a little more explicit about the potty problem: Assume you are a born-again Christian sitting on the potty. You are in pain, about to 'give birth.' Is there an appropriate prayer for this situation?

The question is very relevant: Is god (or for that matter Jesus) paying attention to your potty doings? And if not why not? If you have really been 'created in the image of God' then how can god be detached from your anal distress? And furthermore why is Jesus so interested in your penchant for playing with your glorious penis or your glorious clitoris while at the same time ignoring your do-do problem?

Is Jesus anti-anal? And if so, would that tend to indicate that Jesus was pro-genital? That is good news if true. But who would believe it?

Potty Prayer?

(11)

Is god even present during your excremental doings? Shouldn't god be off somewhere else? Doing other things? These are important questions. Why?

Because if god is really there in the potty when you take a shit then logically there should be a prayer relating to your immediate potty concerns: there should be a 'Potty Prayer.' How would such a prayer go? I can only speculate.

Presuming that god is there with you in the potty when you take a shit (or a piss) it seems to me that such a potty prayer ought to be directed at possible in-potty disasters. For example: Suppose that you are terminally constipated. Suppose you are sitting on the potty reading The End of Faith. You are not at all satisfied with the way things are going otherwise and you are inclined to seek out suggestions from god.

Should there be a prayer which covers that situation?

And if so, can you suggest a possible verbal sequence?

Pleasing God

(10)

I never pray. I learned early in my career as a human being that prayer does not work. So I never pray. Sarcasm might work. Ridicule might work. Distain might work. But prayer never works.

Throwing up might work. But who remembers at the critical time of a throw-up to offer that throw-up to God? And would god be interested? In a throw-up?

We have always been told, it seems to me, that god is interested in our suffering and that god is pleased by our suffering when we 'offer up our suffering' to god. But is that true?

Suppose you are sitting on the potty about to 'give birth.' You are in pain. You offer up your potty pain to god. Is god pleased? Repulsed?

My Hunting Career

(9)
When we opened the trunk the smell of dead rabbit was overpowering. When I tried to extricate the dead rabbit from the trunk by grabbing him by his hind legs he came apart in my hands. He must have been dead there at least a week.

I did not learn my lesson from that. Instead I would learn my lesson some years later in Goodland Kansas while visiting a 'friend' of mine. We were in his back yard. I had a BB gun. There was a bird in the tree above us. I took aim at the bird with the BB gun and pulled the trigger. The bird fell to the ground. I walked over to the bird who was mortally wounded. I observed the bird's death throes. The bird was opening and closing his beak as if to breathe. As the seconds passed I noticed that the bird drew his head up toward his back in a kind of terminal mechanical gesture. Then the bird died. I was appalled.

Since then I have not killed an animal.

People of the Lie

(8)

This brings us to vice-president Cheney, who is a pathological liar well described in the book, People of the Lie, by M Scott Peck. Cheney has had a bad week. Cheney apparent shot one of his hunting pardners while aiming at a bird. The resulting dribble of information to The Glorious American Media has made Cheney a kind of suspect, lacking credibility. I love it! I do not like Cheney.

The incident in question has revived old memories in me of days I would rather forget: Kansas hunting days. In those days ('58-59-ish) we lived in Salina. I met a Kansas redneck who introduced me to hunting. We hunted rabbits. I must have killed 20 or 30 rabbits. I also hunted ducks, and killed three or four. I used a single-shot 12 gage. Kootch was required to skin the rabbits and cook them to our taste. It was her duty.

Then one day Kootch and I noticed a funny smell in the '56 Mercury. We eventually discovered a decomposing rabbit in the trunk.

My Nightly Ritual

(7)

I want to reiterate that I am well aware of the possibility of CO in the apartment due to excessive low pressure produced by exhaust fans. I have repeatedly tested the system with only the exhaust fans operating at low power and found that environment to be safe. We have a CO detector which stays in Kootch's room and Kootch is well aware of the reason it is there.

So I am comfortable with the current procedure: Before hitting the sack, (1) Turn off the furnace, (2) turn on the exhaust fans to full power, (3) turn off LR video, (4) make sure all doors are locked, (5) turn off bedroom heater, computer, monitor, (6) turn on intake fans to full power, (7) do not pray, (8) try to sleep, try to remember the times if they gas me.

Judeo-homo-devianity

(6)

The local temperature at 1743 was exactly zero according to my outdoor thermomenter. This brings up an interesting subject: how am I able to keep a reasonable temperature inside our apartment under such conditions (tap)? Good question.

Simple, really. With all fans off, cold air invades the apartment via the lower fans while hot air escapes via the upper fans. The result is that there is a stratification which tends to freeze my butt off in spite of the furnace.

So I have come up with a balance: I keep the exhaust fans running in the living room (at low power) and I block the intake fans in my bedroom with a cardboard mask. The result is that cold air does not seep into the LR at all. What cold air seeps into the BR - and some cold air does - is offset by the Soleusair electric heater which is even now keeping my butt warm: Judeo-homo-devianity is foiled!

Gogetem Boys!

(5)

My money now lives in a Wells Fargo bank checking account, breathing a sigh of relief, but noting that under the existing conditions it (my money) is relentlessy expiring, little by little. I am minded to attend to that and I will. But first I would like to call for a class-action lawsuit against Etrade.

Gogetem, boys! Milk the bastards dry!

This brings us to the end of current local events.

Etrade Sucks

(4)

Revisiting an old note to the effect that, 'Etrade sucks,' I finally deposited a check from Etrade to my checking account today. For several years I've had a trading account with Etrade. The account paid miniscule interest but I was content to let the money just sit there until I began to notice that my principal was decreasing periodically. Seems Etrade was charging me 'an account management fee' and my principle was dissolving before our very eyes including the eyes of the manager of my account who was charging me 40 dollars every time he observed my account!

Sheeeit! Etrade was stealing my money! So I wrote a check (boom from above) for 15 dollars less than the amount in the account thinking, 'I'll leave the sons-of-bitches a tip.' The check bounced! I called Etrade's 1-800 number again and again Etrade could not recognize my password although it was recognized on the Etrade web site.

So I again called the recommended Etrade number to close my account. Again the system would not recognize my password.

So I finally went downtown to the Denver Etrade office and closed my account. Today I deposited a check from Etrade into my checking account.

The Cable Guys

(1)

I am pleased to report that the cable guy mentioned last week did indeed show up on monday, bringing help and lots of serious cable. They completely rewired our system and in the process improved reception tremendously. And no cable amplifiers!

Seems the major problem was the inferior store-bought cables I was using. Did you know that most cable you buy from the store (Radio Shack, for example) is inferior crap? I didn't know. But now I know. You know too.

One little problem: they failed to deliver on their promise to replace the ancient converter we are using.

Irritating God

(3)

Deborah Presken's first response to my gassing complaint some months ago was to poke a chopstick (or something like it) up my nose. Was she looking for the source of Bible Boogers? Was Debbie famaliar with my blog? And if so was Debbie hoping to score big with a nasal cancer diagnosis which would explain my Bible Boogery?

If that was the case, god may have overruled poor Deborah with a nasal cure.

And if THAT was the case then I claim to have discovered an entirely new method of dealing with god: irritate the bastard!

God's Power

(2)

My INR continues to climb according to the latest report by Kaiser's 'Coag' unit, and they suggested lowering the dose even further, which I have done. Interestingly, my nose-blows have revealed no blood at all in recent weeks, suggesting a further divergence between personal and official estimates of 'blood thinness.' How to interpret this apparent discrepancy? I don't know.

But in the interests of speculation I blame god for the apparent problem. I think that god became soooo irritated by my relentless bombardment of the VOOT with my bloody snots that he strengthened the offending blood vessels. If this is true it negates my previous assertion to the effect that god is powerless: god has power. God has a small amount of power in my nose.

Oh well...

Cable Problems

(1)

Running a little late tonight due in part to an unexpected visit by representatives of the local cable company. Seems that our tv system is emitting 'noise' which could interfere with other communications. This is the second time. On the previous occasion the culprit turned out to be an old cable amplifier. I bought new cable amplifiers and the problem of supplying four tv sets with adequate video seemed to have been solved.

Apparently not so. The investigator identified a kind of 'rat's nest' which needed to be cleaned up and offered to do the job gratis, tomorrow. I replied that I intended to be very hungover tomorrow. We agreed on, 'anytime monday.' Alright! This guy was a MAJOR improvement on the bizarre dude who answered our previous call some months ago to the same cable company.

A Mysterious Game

(13)

Which brings us to the numbers game, a strange idea from the point of view of Love which never understood even a single number and never will.

Nighty night!

This Won't Work!

(12)

Time for me to quote from Sam Harris' book, The End of Faith. As I've said I only read it on the potty. Trouble is I don't spend much time on the potty. So I have not got far in Sam's book. But I've got far enough! I love Sam Harris and his ideas!

So before I wrap it up tonight I will quote fro (boom)m The End of Faith by Sam Harris who informs us of certain ancient texts in the very old and odius testament which tend to suggest to us (for example the Book of Deuteromoty) that we should kill members of our own family under certain conditions, specifically, D-13-7-11.

I read the text in question and I was appalled.

Harris suggests that the modern failure to react to such ancient texts is a direct result of a modernity which ignores ancient verities in favor of peaceful coexistence with the past.

But this won't work!

Armagedon?

(11)

At which point I finished my twelvth 3.2 beer. Now only whiskey is left. I will probably do one or two shots mixed with Diet Pepsi, then I will hit the sack. But in the meanwhile I would like to iterate one more time (thump) my conviction that now is not the time to let up on Muslim Sensibilities. CNN is wrong not to publish the inane cartoons which have upset the Muslim World.

Indeed, the Western World should begin a concentrated attack on the Muslim Psyche in the form of a flood of cartoons which tend to irritate those aspects of Muslim Culture which reside in the Old and Odius Past. Mohammedism should be made into a joke, all over the world.

So should Judaism. So should Christianity. All of what I call 'Western Religion' and what Sam Harris calls 'faith based religion' should be disgraced. The world should be ushered into the twentieth century by force if necessary, and into the twenty first century by equal force. Modern Science and old and odius religions are totally incompatible with the progress of Humanity and the continued advances of a science which is capable of destroying us all with the press of a button.

The Morphing War

(9)

There was recently a video ad by the Democratic party depicting president Bush morphing into Richard Nixon. I found it fascinating for its visual effect. As I watched the ad I was reminded of the phallic symbolisms of Muslim Culture in the forms of their 'minarettes' (prayer towers).

In the old days 'Meuzzens' (sp?) would actually go up into those towers at prayer time and shout out to the faithful that this was prayer time. In fact I learned about this practice from Omar Khayamm's book (translated by Edward Fitzgerald), The Rubiat of Omar Khayamm. Here is the verse:

Alike to those who for Today prepare
And those who after some tomorrow stare
A meuzzen from the tower of darkness cries,
'Fools, your reward is neither here nor there.'

So I wondered Whether the obvious Phallic symbolism of Minarettes could be exploited, and it seemed to me that that symbolism could best be exploited by morphing video which showed the minarettes slowly morphing into circumcised phalluses.

The Last Supper

(8)

Damn that was fun!

I should mention at this point that I do not claim copyright protection for the preceeding cartoon idea. If some talented cartoonist out there wants to put my words into action in the form of one or more cartoons then she or he has my unconditional permission to do so.

Next subject: Jesus. As my old readers know, I am a great fan of Jesus if not in the traditional sense in the esoteric sense. I admire Jesus. Furthermore I can actually identify with Jesus from time to time when I am drunk. Here is an example:

When Jesus did The Last Supper He did it with at least twelve other folks. It was a festive affair. Wine was drunk, food was eaten. During that famous festive affair Jesus made some outrageous statements which have come down to us today: Jesus declared that the wine they were all drinking was actually his blood, and that furthermore the bread they were eating was actually his body. This was nonsense at the time and was probably an 'in joke' of some kind. I think Jesus was drunk at the time and that his words were taken seriously, out of context, by later historians, but were understood at the time by the folks around him, who laughed.

The Circumcision Chop

(7)

The cartoon should lay out all the groundwork in the first two frames: Abraham is about to do a circumcision, and Abraham is the expert, having done hundreds if not thousands of previous procedures. There should be a table with a cutting board on which a giggling child lays naked. The child's mother should be nearby, crying silently.

The second frame should image Abraham showing off to the gallery, wielding his rather large knife in the manner of an accomplished Samurai.

The third frame should show Abraham doing 'the circumcision chop' on the poor little guy in the manner of a samurai beheading an opponent. The associated sound effect should be, 'snip.' A small object should be seen to jump from the crotch area of the child on the cutting board and arc to the ground near the table.

The fourth frame should show the previous scene exactly except for the arc. The associated sound effect should be, '...oops.'

The fifth frame should show Abraham facing the tearful young mother. The associated sound effect should be Abraham saying to the grieving mother something like, 'I think we'd better rename him, Deborah.'

A Weapon of Mass Destruction: the Cartoon

(6)

All that out of the way I now turn to my favorite current event: Muslim outrage over dumb little cartoons depicting The Prophet. I looked up the cartoons in question on the internet and could find nothing offensive about them, but I am a Pink Pantheist, not a Muslim. As I thought about this interesting subject it seemed to me that cartoons were uniquely effective vehicles for transfering ideas (highly compacted information) in rapid and massive fashion to millions of people in a short amounts of time and that this quality - this ability of cartoons to piss off literally billions of people - ought to be put to good use in the interests of Humanity.

Toward that end I would like to suggest my own original (as far as I know) cartoon designed to piss off the billions of people all over the world who belong to the Circumcision Cult. Here is my idea:

The cartoon in question should depict Abraham, who is a Jewish-Christian-Muslim Patriarch, about to circumcise a newborn male child. The cartoon should leave no question concerning what is about to take place: Abraham is about to sexually mutilate (circumcise) a child.

Hangover Day

(5)

After more than an hour of conversation the meeting ended on a fairly pleasant note. I think Kootch must have been instrumental in resolving what may have been for both Denise and Shawn a nagging question: 'Is this crazy old man a threat to the neighbors around him?' Kootch declared me harmless.

What irony! The entire evening had been spent focusing on the possible (stomp) dangers posed by the crazy old man in #204 (me) While ignoring the dangers posed by the crazy old man above in apartment #304 (Walter Gerash).

In the two days which followed I have often thought about Denise, the good-looking young woman who actually listened to me. I have to admit that I felt during those rememberings an old familiar feeling from my younger days: New Love. But I'll get over it by tomorrow, Hangover Day.

Shabby Shawn

(4)

As the conversation progressed I found myself marveling at Denise's interest in the subject. Denise was actually listening to us very carefully and was actually asking questions - intelligent questions - based on the information we were giving her. It was clear to me as the conversation went on that Denise had an 'open mind' on this subject! Wow. What a woman! What a novelty!

A knock on the door interrupted a (for me) pleasant scene. I opened the door and met Shawn, who was 'running late.' I invited Shawn into the LR and soon Shawn became integrated into the conversation.

Shawn proved to be the opposite of Denise. Whereas Denise asked questions based on previous information, Shawn seemed to be more interested in raising doubts about such information. Furthermore it soon became clear that Shawn was not there to listen and learn, Shawn was there to preach and discredit. Shawn was there to propagandize from his pulpit of 'resident psychological expert.' Shawn was there to discredit me in the eyes of the two women.

Separate Lives

(3)

In the LR I introduced them to each other and Denise took a seat on the couch. I think Kootch remained on the floor in Japanese style. They both liked each other immediately and the conversation took a turn in the obvious direction. We both explained to Denise that we were quiet folks who minded our own business and that we were mystified by the charges in her letters. The subject soon got around to the activities of the folks upstairs, the gassing, the harrassment, the evesdropping, etc.

We explained to Denise that we were experiencing (thump) two different environments while living in the same environs - that we lived virtually separate lives (tap) and that this fact explained why it was so easy for Gerash and his surrogates to harrass me and not Kootch. We explained that we were actually together in the same room only about one hour a day and that we were actually awake together in the same apartment only about six hours a day (lots of 'agreement' taps from the queer Jew above as I write this) and that this fact of our lives made it easy for Gerash to harrass only one of us.

A Good-looking Young Woman

(2)

I told Kootch that we were going to be visited by somebody from the county and somebody from TMMC, and that we ought to 'straighten up a little.' Kootch agreed and did most of the work as usual, running the vacuum cleaner and dusting and such. I even did a little 'straightening up' in my room, not that I intended to conduct a tour or anything like that.

We were both very tense as M- hour approached on Wednesday afternoon at 1430. Kootch wondered whether she should be 'unavailable' at that time. I insisted that on (stomp) the contrary she should be there as a witness to the proceedings. Kootch agreed. It was a very tense day.

Sometime before 1430 there was a knock on the door; I answered the door expecting to be met by two people, but was pleasantly surprised by only a single female. She was a good-looking young (from my 71 year old vantage point) woman with a smile on her face. It was Denise from TMMC. I smiled back and invited her in immediately saying that my wife was in the living room and would be happy to 'keep her entertained' until Shawn showed up.

'Crisis Intervention?'

(1)

Officer Kelso must have been somewhat disturbed by his meeting with your's truly, because he contacted something called the 'CIT' (stomp). 'CIT' means, 'Crisis Intervention Team.' Seems two or more local counties came up with a psychological task force to deal with nutty situations in the counties concerned and that my case fitted in nicely with the CIT mission plan.

So a nice young psychological type at CIT gave me a call this week concerning my recent encounter with 'the deputy from hell.' His name was Shawn. Shawn wanted to meet with me to discuss my 'problem.' I thought, 'How nice!'

Shawn explained that TDFH had mentioned my problems with TMMC, and Shawn wondered whether I had any objection to him contacting TMMC before he met with me. I had no objection. In fact I gave Shawn the phone number at the bottom of the most recent letter and advised him that he should speak to 'Denise.' Shawn then contacted Denise, the writer of the letter from TMMC. They apparently agreed to meet with me together and Shawn called me back to get my permission for such a meeting. I agreed.

Beyond Funny

(18)

Seed and Dennet will have to wait.

I want to comment on the idea of cartoons insulting Mohammed and Rumsfeld. I loved them all! I love the idea that Mohammed can be insulted by Western Cartoons. I absolutely LOVE it! I think that ALL Western Nations should continue to allow their cartoonists to insult Islam.

I also loved the Rumsfeld cartoon. The military called it 'beyond tasteless' but I loved it! I thought it was 'beyond funny.'

Nighty-night!

The Alco-Cardinalic State

(17)

(I must note here that you do the left index finger first, not the right.)

Then you grab your glass of whatever between your right index finger and your thumb and raise it to your lips. Then you take one drink out of that glass (or bottle). Then you set the glass down. Once. If you can magage that first (being gassed here at 0143) ritual without being called by one of the participants then you are home free until the next iteration. However if you fucked up even in the slightest you will have to chug the rest of your glass and wait around until it is your turn again. It is a really fun game.

The next iteration is similar except that you must do each ritual twice.

The last and final iteration is that you must do each ritual three times and that you must remember to say that 'Cardinal puff Puff Puff is about to take his third AND FINAL drink. If you pass all the tests while your buddies are watching you then you become a Cardinal.

Are You a Cardinal?

(16)

Question: Can faith move a grain of sand?

No. Otherwise the dumbass Judeo-Christian-Muslim dumb-dumbs out there would have enlisted modern science to prove their point. Faith can't move even a single electron.

Question: 'Are you a Cardinal?' Answer: 'You bet your sweet ass I am.' This is the subject of the moment. As I get drunker and drunker I am reminded of my experience with actual 'friends.' This was back in 'the old days.' Nowadays I have no friends, hence no reputation. But back in the old days when I had 'friends' I would occasionally go out with them on drunken parties. During those parties I would attempt to make all of my friends 'Cardinals.' 'Becoming a Cardinal' was dependent on performing flawlessly a certain ritual. If you performed the ritual you became a Cardinal. If you failed the ritual for whatever reason you remained a Jew or whatever, forever. Here is the ritual:

You announce to those persons sitting around the table with you that Cardinal Puff is about to take his first drink. Then you slap your right index finger on the table one time. Then you slap your left index finger in the table one time. Then you stomp your left foot on the floor one time. Then you stomp your right foot on the floor one time.

An Upstanding Christian Organization

(15)

It's past 0030 and there is lots to go on my list above. I may not finish. But before I go I would like to comment on the logo of TMMC as depicted in the two recent letters they sent to us (boom from above). The two colors are green and black. Insignificant. What is significant is the depiction of the four letters, TMMC.

The first 'T' is a lower-case t in the shape of a Christian (tap) cross. The cross stands alone whereas the remaining letters, 'MMC' are capital letters encircled by two green circles.

My comment on this is that the logo is designed to project a certain 'reputation' to the outside world, the reputation that the firm TMMC is an upstanding Christian organization.

Drowned Jesus

(14)

Before I pee in my pants I imagine that Jesus is lurking there. I imagine that Jesus is there in my underpants. I imagine that Jesus is there for the purpose of seeing whether I will play with my uncircumcised penis on the day in question. I imagine that if I do indeed play with my uncircumcised penis or actually masturbate to orgasm on that day that Jesus will dutifully report such to WHTZSNM, His daddy in the sky.

So having set the scene I warn Jesus with these words (more or less): 'Get out of my pants Jesus! You fucking pervert! Out!'

If I feel that Jesus is still there in my underpants then He deserves what he gets. I release the constraints on my bladder with gusto and if the result is 'Drowned Jesus' then so be it.

The Deprogrammed Religious State

(13)

My entire adult life has had as one of its major themes the unlearning of various crap, including the crap of religion. I have always delighted in unlearning ancient religious crap. Over the years of this unlearning I have tested myself periodically with certain religious ideas. I understood early on that my inherited religion was not so much logical as emotional. Furthermore I could see that my 'progress' toward 'non-belief' was more emotional than logical. That is to say that the logic was obvious whereas the emotion was obscure.

So I would periodically test myself with outrageous religious ideas in order to experience my emotional reaction. My emotional reaction would tell me how well I was progressing in my quest for the totally deprogrammed religious state.

My current test for emotional attachment to Catholicism is several years old, indicating a kind of stagnation in my progress toward Atheism or its equivalent. It goes like this:

A Universal Human Delusion

(12)

So how to explain the 'power of god' in your lives? Good question.

All during your lives you have doubted god. As you have grown older you have yearned to believe that the end of this life is not really the end. you have enjoyed your lives and you look forward to many happy returns. Toward that end you have 'built your faith.'

That is to say that you have disregarded the evidence of your senses which indicates that all beings from humans to viruses die and that that broad category includes you. You have hoodwinked yourselves. You know that you will die like a dog, but you have 'convinced' yourselves 'through faith' that you will live forever in paradise.

Furthermore you have bought into the idea that god is watching you, looking for signs of disbelief in the common human delusion of life after death. 'They' have told you from infancy that god will punish such disbelief with eternal pain. You bought it.

So you fear god because you don't have the courage to tell the truth to yourselves. The 'power' of god in your lives is based on the delusion that you will never die. You are wrong about that.

You all will die like dogs.

Powerless God

(11)

Thank god I am finally free from writing history. Now I can concentrate on Your Dumb-ass Religion. First up is the subject of 'your fear of God.' You fear God. Don't bother to deny it, YOU FEAR GOD. Do you know why? No you don't. I am here to tell you why you fear god.

You fear god for two reasons: (1) You think god can influence your life. (2) You think god can influence your 'next life.' There are no other possible reasons why you fear god and moreover you are wrong in both respects. There is nothing at all to fear from god. God is powerless. God may love you, may not. God may hate you, may not. God's emotional response to you is irrelevant because god is powerless. God has absolutely no power whatsoever.

Lawyer - Stalker

(10)

Kootch and I had our usual discussion after she received her letter from TMMC. I suggested to her that the letter was another example of 'Gerash harrassment.' This led to the usual (tap) denial by Kootch. I explained to Kootch that Lawyers enjoyed writing letters to opponents which caused those opponents to experience emotional pain. I further explained that this predelection fitted perfectly with the psychology of the stalker. Kootch was unimpressed.

I further explained to Kootch that no two stalkers were alike, that each stalker was unique. I used the 'turd metaphor.' I told her that, 'Stalkers are like turds. You can shit for a thousand years and you can examine each and every turd and you will find no two turds exactly alike.'

Kootch remained unimpressed, as usual.

Connections: TMMC - ACSD

(9)

The second letter was even more outrageous and again Kootch relied on me to respond, in this case via telephone. I called TMMC and protested that we had not done the alleged activities. The woman I talked to replied that since we had refused to meet with them the previous month we were being assessed the 25 dollar fine. I replied that TMMC had not responded to my letter and my call confirming that they had received the letter and that therefore we would not pay the fine. (boom).

Which brings us back to Deputy Kelso. Deputy Kelso, during our interview, mentioned that he had (skin gas here - also r burning) responded to a complaint (thump) concerning the above but that we had not answered the door in spite of his loud knockings.

This was quite surprising to me, as I had no idea that the ACSD had attempted to contact us by banging on our door. Maybe they should have called.

TMMC

(8)

'TMMC' refers to the management company which runs our little collective here in Littleton Colorado. Kootch (the owner of this condo) has received two letters (boom) from TMMC recently charging that we have been '...pounding, hammering, banging walls, dropping items on the floor and slamming doors inside your unit between the hours of 7:00 pm and 7:00 am.' The most recent letter charges us with a $25.00 fine.

Kootch was outraged by both these letters because she knows that we are quiet occupants who do not in any way harrass our neighbors. Kootch knows, in fact, that nobody at all has ever complained to her about our behavior since we moved into our current location back in about 1982. Nor has anybody ever complained to me. So Kootch is mystified by the letters as well as being outraged.

Seeing her distress I offered to write a letter in reply to TMMC. Kootch accepted my offer and I wrote the letter. We later called TMMC and confirmed that they had received the letter. TMMC told us that they would contact us regarding a time and place where we would meet to discuss the problem. We never heard back from TMMC.

Subjects for Tonight

(7)

At this point I want to leave the subject of the 'Arapahoe County Commodities' and go on to subjects which really interest me as recorded on my notebook:

Another TMMC letter - discussion with Kootch
Stalkers are like turds: no two alike
Kootch still denies
old and odius beliefs
civil rights? me?
building faith against doubt
your fear of god - test
can faith move a grain of sand?
are you a cardinal?
Seed and Dennett
insulting Mohammed and Rumsfeld
jerk-o-meter cbsnews.com

Cannot Find Server

(6)

Before I get too far off track here I want to document the error messages which appeared several times during tonight's posts. The same error message always appeared:

001 JAVA.io.IOException: EOF while reading from control connection.

Cannot Find server.

A Google Reputation

(5)

In conjunction with the subject at hand I did a Google Blog Search the other day looking for the term, 'old and odius testament.' I was pleased to discover that my blog alone was mentioned in this regard. Reputation! I have a Google Reputation (Stomp above me as I wrote that)! I LOVE my Google reputation. I love Google.

Do you love YOUR Google Reputation? Do you love Google? If not then you need to do a little soul-searching.

I Have a Reputation!

(4)

ACSD Deputy D. Kelso then departed the scene of the crime explaining to me that he would not record a crime in this case because in his opinion I was insane. Sheeeit!

See. I told you it would be boring. Anyway I have it all on my voice recorder and I will transfer it all to tape in the near future. This brings us full circle back to the idea of 'reputation' and what exactly do we mean by that. Clearly I have a 'reputation' (at least so far as the ACSD is concerned) of being insane. Darn. This brings up the question of, 'How can I correct my reputation?' But is that the logical question?

Negative. Far from attempting to 'correct' my 'reputation' I am celebrating the fact that I HAVE a reputation!

Buying Favors

(3)

(Well as you can see there were errors as I attempted to publish the previous posts (thunk). I won't attempt to correct the record. Let it stand.)

Kelso did not answer the question. In fact Kelso just stood there for several seconds saying nothing. Kelso then changed the subject. I was watching Kelso's face as I asked the question and I have to admit that the expression on Kelso's face never changed. It was as if he had not heard the question.

Kelso may have been expecting the question and as a result may have been prepared for it. Not so in the case of detective Paul Goodman (pJ). Some years ago in an interview with Goodman he suggested that I speak with an Arapahoe County psychiatrist. His suggestion was in connection with the current case. I had had some unfortunate encounters with 'psychological professionals' in the past, and so I had replied to Goodman that I could not trust such a person because 'Gerash would buy him.'

The resulting look on Goodman's face convinced me that detective Paul E Goodman himself had already been 'bought' by the multimillionaire lawyer Walter L Gerash.

(2)

Kelso opened the back door and I got in, barely. The quarters were extremely cramped and I had trouble getting my still swollen right leg inside. I noticed that the rear seats were made entirely of plastic and thought to myself 'Well it wouldn't do much good to pee on THESE seats.'

Kelso opened the window separating the front seats from the rear seats, and the interview began. It soon became obvious that (tap) Kelso did not believe (tap) my story. Without boring all of us with the depressing details, suffice it to say that the interview eventually came down to two embarrassing questions, the first (boom) of which was asked by Kelso: 'Have you ever been diagnosed as having a mental problem?'

The second question was asked by me: 'Are you working for Walter Gerash?'

Good Questions

(2)

Kelso opened the back door and I got in, barely. The quarters were extremely cramped and I had trouble getting my still swollen right leg inside. I noticed that the rear seats were made entirely of plastic and thought to myself 'Well it wouldn't do much good to pee on THESE seats.'

Kelso opened the window separating the front seats from the rear seats, and the interview began. It soon became obvious that (tap) Kelso did not believe (tap) my story. Without boring all of us with the depressing details, suffice it to say that the interview eventually came down to two embarrassing questions, the first (boom) of which was asked by Kelso: 'Have you ever been diagnosed as having a mental problem?'

The second question was asked by me: 'Are you working for Walter Gerash?'

Good Questions

(2)

Kelso opened the back door and I got in, barely. The quarters were extremely cramped and I had trouble getting my still swollen right leg inside. I noticed that the rear seats were made entirely of plastic and thought to myself 'Well it wouldn't do much good to pee on THESE seats.'

Kelso opened the window separating the front seats from the rear seats, and the interview began. It soon became obvious that (tap) Kelso did not believe (tap) my story. Without boring all of us with the depressing details, suffice it to say that the interview eventually came down to two embarrassing questions, the first (boom) of which was asked by Kelso: 'Have you ever been diagnosed as having a mental problem?'

The second question was asked by me: 'Are you working for Walter Gerash?'

The Deputy From Hell

(1)

Which brings us quite naturally to ACSD deputy D. Kelso #00205. I finally called the ACSD this afternoon after thinking about it all week and THIS idiot showed up. He was alone. He was also wearing a Taser. I was impressed.

It was bad vibes right from the start: I was at the computer when I heard a car door slam outside around 1630 (the fan were off at the time). I went to the living room and peeked out of the patio door curtains. An ACSD squad car was parked about 50 feet east of the apartment. A single uniformed officer got out and headed in the direction of our building. I opened the patio door and waved at the approaching officer. No response although it was obvious that the officer saw me. Bad vibe. Very bad vibe. Very very bad vibe.

Deputy Kelso knocked on our door and I answered, voice recorder in hand. Kelso noticed the voice recorder immediately. The little red light was already on as I said to Kelso, 'Do you mind if I record this conversation?' Kelso replied in the negative. I informed Kelso that the nature of the crime I was reporting involved 'evesdropping' by the neighbors upstairs and that in view of the possibility they were listening I preferred to discuss the matter in his squad car. Kelso agreed and we both headed for the squad car, me in the lead.