Only the Beginning

(3)

Don't get me wrong: I'd like to see a 'successful outcome' in Iraq, I'm just not convinced that the current course can provide such an outcome. In fact, I doubt it: how can a Western Christian Democracy which supports Israel win the 'hearts and minds' of a male-dominated Muslim World? Sure, you might be able to 'convert' the women and the children - might. But men run that world, not women and children. Only men hold positions of power in the Muslim World. Allah is male.

Furthermore Allah is circumcised. Muslims are circumcised. 'Circumcates' suffer from penis envy (boom). It is only natural. So add penis envy to the list. Do you really think you can 'win over' the heart and mind of an Arab Muslim who suffers from penis envy? Not bloody fucking likely. Muslim penis envy, in fact, may be the single most prominent obstacle to the installation of a Western-style Democracy in the Middle East. But there is yet hope: we must reveal our most unpleasant secret to them. We must reveal our national circumcision statistics, more or less.

Furthermore, we must never send an uncircumcised male soldier, sailor, or airman, to Iraq. Those folks should be held in reserve. Entire divisions should be reorganized, if necessary, on circumcisional lines. No Iraqi Muslim should ever be allowed in the position of being able to pull down the pants of a dead American soldier and skin back his dick for the cameras. Same with the fighting men in Afghanistan. In fact, I would suggest that no uncuts at all should ever be assigned to dangerous duty in the Middle East. Instead, we should send only our very best circumcates. And no dogs. If dogs are necessary at all to the mission over there then those dogs should be female. In the extremely unlikely event that one or two male dogs need to be sent to Iraq for special reasons, then those poor guys should be circumcised before departure, then spray-painted in military camoflage.

But that is only the beginning.

War is Hell

(2)

The news which struck me recently led to the following notes. Since I recently discovered Blogger's 'numbered list' (along with their 'bulleted list') I will use that feature:

1. Latest US Diplomatic Offensive.
2. Lessons from Saddam.
3. Haditha.

The first refers of course to the most recent State Department missive to Iran suggesting that if Iran does the right thing (stops the process of creating weapons-grade Uranium) the US would be willing to join European Nations in some sort of discussion concerning Iran's future in the International Community. Did I get that right? It was billed as a major US diplomatic concession to Iran. Sheeit. Forgive me, but it seemed more like a rapist saying to his victim something like, 'Pull your pants down and bend over. Then we'll discuss.'

The second refers to the current Iraqi prime minister (Malaki?) who promises to use an 'iron fist' against insurgents. When I saw that video for the first time I thought, 'Hey! This guy could use a little instruction concerning how to pacify a country like Iraq. Saddam would be the perfect instructor! Maybe Malaki should secretly consult Saddam on this matter. After all, Saddam ran that bizarre 'nation' for many years quite successfully.' Did he not?

Finally, the tragedy of Haditha is just now making an impression in the international news and is being compared to the My Lai Massacre of Viet Nam, if not in numbers, then in effect. Will Haditha be our collective undoing? The situation brought to mind the Stanley Kubrick movie, Full Metal Jacket, wherein a gunner on a helicopter was asked the question, 'How can you shoot women, children?' The gunner replied, smiling, 'Ya just don't lead 'em so much.'

To Katie

(1)

I'm here from Enough is enough, which I wrote on booze. The subject matter was so difficult to think about that booze was good lubrication. Now I'm in the mood for Non Serviam.

I enjoyed Katie Couric's last appearance on Today, today. Also, I learned a lot about her that I'd previously missed, and in the process my respect for Matt Lauer increased significantly. Katie, you are a dangerous woman! By the way, I loved your outfit: white top with flared white skirt decorated with horizontal red and black patterns... It was a simple, understated, elegant choice, quite appropriate for the occasion. In fact it was a 'seasoned look' in the sense that it contrasted dramatically with some of the more garish (dare I say it?) outfits from earlier years. By the way, between just you and me: I finally spotted your panty lines! You were hugging one of your fellow workers; you were wearing white pants which were fairly tight-fitting... My fleeting impression was that you were wearing a full-fitting white lycra model panty.Sorry.

I have just put on Mozart's Piano Concerto #21 in your honor.

Now, run along, honey. Read no further (boom).

Not Two!

(7)

Well. I obviously stopped just in time there. I might be drunk but I'm not a complete fucking idiot.

I wrote that in order to bring up the ideas which concerned me, a 'philosophical initiate,' during those times. As My brain dissolved I was witness to both dissolution and resurrection and naturally my memories (being RF'd here) centered around those aspects of my Acid Experience.

Did my children analyse their respective trips in quite those same concepts? Obviously not. They did Acid on their own terms. To them, Acid was wierd and fun. Only that. To me, on the other hand, Acid was an Epistomological Revelation. Acid shook my world.

I did my first Acid Trip as a confirmed Atheist going in, and I came out of it an Astonished Agnostic. Did I see God? No. But I was left with the haunting impression that the 'natural' and the 'supernatural' were not two different things.

Therefore

(6)

This might be the perfect time to comment on my Acid Trips: I am already half-drunk, and any absurdities can be blamed on my current neurological state. So...

The Acid Experience proved to me that our brain creates our world.

The brain works with sense data to construct a world. Each world is personal and unique. No two worlds are alike.

There is a 'world out there' but it is objectively unknowable by definition: the 'absolute world' cannot be known. Only the 'relative world' can be known.

The relative world is constructed by our brains and is based on the absolute world, which is immutable.

Time exists only in the relative world. The corresponding concept in the absolute world can be thought of as, 'process.' (But this is only conjecture.)

The Absolute World contains The Other.

The world of The Other is partially knowable but never absolutely knowable.

Only the realization that The Other actually exists saves us from abject solipsism.

The Other proves the existence of 'the Absolute World.'

Therefore

I Only Get drunk Once a Week

(5)

Too bad that my flight log books were lost (tap) in the Florida theft of 1984 (?). So was my high school yearbook. I'd love to have those thinks back. Whoa! Maybe I can get a copy of that 1954 BEHS yearbook! Lessee... all I have to do is offer a former classmate a little monetary compensation for a reproduction... Alright! I'll try it. Later. No. Not later. Now. No. Not now. Later. After all, I only get drunk once a week and tonight is the night. (God I was such a handsome Hunk back in those days!)

The email problem with Michiko is still unresolved. Michiko mailed us a copy of the error report and I duplicated that report in an email to Comcast. I expected a definititive reply, but the idiot at Comcast suggested that there might be a 'blacklist problem' and that I should contact the Comcast 'Blacklist Division.' Sheeit. Sucker must have been Jewish.

Since then I have been too depressed and sleep(tap)deprived to bother with it. I'll get around to it later, since communication with Japan is already well established by telephone.

Dave, You Dirty Bastard!

(4)

I am giggling as I remember and recount this incident, But Dave had the last laugh on this occasion. He began to describe the airport at Breckenridge (?) as barely capable of handling a Twin Commander with a full load pf passengers (we had no passengers on this flight). He told the story of how he had taken FAA reps for a round trip to Breckenridge (?) so they could check out the (stomp) safety aspects of this new service, and how they - probably through fear - declined to redo a landing/take off demonstration at the final destination. Dave was so good that by the time we were approaching Brechenridge (?) even I was apprehensive. ('Shit! What was I getting into here?')

Dave landed the TC at Breckenridge (?). He came in fast and used up the entire runway. I thought, 'Uh-oh.'

We might have parked the airplane to take a piss - might not - I really don't remember. But I do remember that as we taxied for take-off on the same runway in the opposite direction, Dave reassured me. He mentioned that the engines on this particular airplane were supercharged - not just turbocharged, and that unless we lost an engine on takeoff we would definitely be able to climb out to a safe altitude for our transition back to Denver.

I almost prayed as Dave slowly (waaaay too slowly) advanced the throttles on the supercharged TC. About three quarters down the runway it became clear that we would make it - failing sudden engine failure - and that I would live. (thump)

I never thought about it 'til now, but I guess Dave was getting back at me for that accelerated stall.

What?

(3)

Been so preoccupied recently with finding a defense to the latest attacks (tap) that I have not been thinking about esoteric stuff like, 'The Epistomological Implications of Lysergic Acid Di-ethylamide Intoxication.' Nor have I been making notes during the week for use as possible themes for Friday Night, so I'll just have to 'wing it' from here.

Speaking of, 'winging it,' Clicked had a fun video of Bob Hoover pouring a drink in the cockpit of 'Twin Commander' as he maneuvered that airplane through a barrel roll. The piece was intended to illustrate the principle that gravity and acceleration have similar effects. As I watched the piece I was reminded of the one occasion when I actually got to fly a Twin Commander. A former instructor of mine, Dave, offered to take me on a round trip to Breckenridge (?) in the airplane he had been hired to fly on a quasi-scheduled basis. I jumped at the chance, of course, because I knew that Dave would let me get in a little time at the controls.

Sure enough. Dave gave me the controls at a safe altitude (over 12,000 feet) as we approached the Continental Divide. I flew the airplane for a while, maintaining altitude within about +-100 feet. Boring. So, as a ploy to convince Dave that he should probably resume control I asked him to estimate the G-load for an accelerated stall in this airplane at our current cruising speed. Dave said, 'What?'

I said, 'Accelerated stall' and pulled back on the yoke. The nose pitched up and the entire airplane shuddered as the smooth airflow over the wings became suddenly turbulent. I then relaxed back-pressure as Dave, in a panic, resumed control.

More Pussimus Maximus

(2)

I must mention yet another change in my list of 'tv programs watched daily:' Elizabeth Vargas is being replaced as sole news anchor on ABC World News Tonight. This is the most recent change in a current tragic series at ABC. Elizabeth will be replaced by Charles Gibson. Best of luck to you and the rest of the family, honeychile! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

Screen Theory

(1)

I'll have to give the 'foggy film hypothesis' a, 'Well, maybe.' X rays would certainly cloud unused film, but the closest I could come, Googlewise, to RF clouding was the advice that it 'was not a good idea to thaw frozen film in the microwave.'

By the way, no more RF at the moment, but it has literally been microwave hell recently. It was great to just get out of this 'Jewish microwave oven' we call our apartment, this afternoon. I did a little shopping (tap) at King Soopers, then went to Ace (tap) Hardware looking for stuff to shield my bed with at night. I had been there a few days ago, looking for some cheap, thin sheet metal. The closest they could come was 'aluminum flashing,' a kind of thick aluminum foil. I decided on that as a working plan, but knowing my beady little brain the way I do I decided to wait: I might come up with a better idea. So I put it off. (RF here at 1721.) Sure enough!

While at Ace again this afternoon I noticed that they had some metal screening material with about 3/8 inch squares. Alright! That material should work against all but the very shortest wavelengths. Hmm. But what would the cuttoff frequency be? Could they go higher and pierce the screen? (more RF - news time at 1727 - back at 1810). It finally dawned on me that the best (cheapest, lightest) solution was good old window screen. I bought enough of it to screen my full-sized bed from below. Will it work? We shall see...

One Handsome Muthafucka!

(12)

Time to wrap this up. Again. But before I sign out I want to record that I expected very little from this particular Friday night: I was gassed/irradiated to the point that I was able to get only about 5 or 6 hours of sleep; furthermore, I was similarly treated during a two hour attempt at a nap later in the afternoon.

So I am very pleased with the results I have read. Apparently, 'sleep deprivation' does not necessarily work in favor of the Judeo-faggot forces which surround me. I have noticed this more than once.

Finally, since I became convinced that 'skin gas' did not really exist, I began to search for a defense. My first choice - on the spur of the moment - was a nine dollar disposable camera from King Soopers. Radiation will cloud the negatives such that the photographs I take will be degraded, at the very least.

And one thing leads to another: I am toying with the idea of buying a digital camera and adding a visual component to this blog. I have one favorite photograph from the late '70's which I would love to share with you. It is a photograph of me, on Acid, on the couch in the Family Room just before we all began to watch The Love Boat. I am one handsome muthafucka!

(But that will require yet another addition to my personal technology in the form of a 'scanner.' Oh, well.)

Nighty-night

My Chastity Belt

(11)

In case you have not been following my other two blogs, Daily Scratchpad, and Enough is Enough, I will bring you up to date:

In DS, my most recent war in C-III is going well. Good news. But better news is that I was able to send Kootch's sister an e-mail after Kootch arrived back in Denver. What to say? Kootch had already called her sister. I really had no news. So, I came up with a little joke: I e-mailed Kootch's sister, Michiko, with a request that she look for the key to my 'chastity belt.'

I claimed that Kootch had apparently lost the key, and that I suspected that it had fallen out of her purse and might be found somewhere in Michiko's home. I requested Michiko to search her home, and to mail the key to me by air express if she found that key. It was a joke, of course.

Michiko, glorious Japanese woman that she is, took me (a male 'member of the family') quite seriously and began searching her home.

Apparently, her husband wondered what was going on, and Michiko showed him the e-mail. He laughed, getting the joke. He then explained to Michiko that she had mis-interpreted the situation - that my e-mail was actually a joke based on my 'freedom' from Kootch's supervision while she was in Japan. He then explained to her exactly what a 'chastity belt' is and why Kootch might have chosen to have fitted me with a chastity belt. Poor Michiko!

Was she 'mortified?' Or did she instead laugh along with the rest of us. I think that she laughed along, relieved that she was no longer obligated to search for a mysterious key.

One Sexy Bitch

(10)

Obviously I'm getting waaay too drunk to write this stuff. I have absolutely no idea what the preceeding two posts might actually mean.

But now I choose to get serious and sober: Now I choose to honor another perennial celebrity, Katie Couric: Pussimus Maximus. I do this, of course, because everybody else who has appreciated KC over the years is doing it now in anticipation of her transition from NBC to CBS, and from mornings to nights.

What can I say? I love you Katie Couric. You are one sexy bitch and you improve with age. Please acknowlege this heartfelt tribute by wearing Hot Pink at least one more time before you disappear from my morning ritual!

This is Sooo Silly.

(9)

Please don't get me wrong, senator: I am a fan. We... are... Irish. Reason enough. Furthermore we are chubby. Furthermore we are old (Argh).

And not only that, I tend to be 'Democrat/Liberal' even though that might be a little too Jewish.

There are differences, of course: I suspect that you get waaaay more pussy. But this is only a suspicion. Have you ever read my blog?

I ask you this question because I have a killer comeback to 'near-miss lightening strikes' which you might find interesting: I always say something like, 'Missed again, Idiot!' Read my blog. You'll see what I mean. I guarantee you that this 'killer comeback' has worked for me time and again.

ps: Do you have a Brown Telephone by any chance?

God?

(8)

Which brings us to Senator Kennedy. Apparently the good senator was high in the sky in a Cessna jet when it got hit by a stroke of lightening. The airplane was damaged electronically and the pilot actually had to fly the thing all the way to a landing. Poor guy! Believe me, folks, I know how much sheer torture is involved in actually manually flying a jet all the way down to the runway. Excrutiating. So, hats off to the pilot. And what about the senator? Did his 'near death experience' affect his political outlook? I know, and soon you will know. Read on.
----------
me: Congradulations on your 'near miss.'
sk: Near miss my ass, it was a hit!
me: Were you concerned?
sk:'Concerned?'
me: About dying.
sk: I am always concerned about dying.
me: I see. Do you think that you were spared for a reason?
sk: I don't understand the question.
me: Do you think that God spared your life for a reason?
sk: Are we on tape?
me: No.
sk: Is this being recorded on any media at all?
me: None whatsoever.
sk: Repeat the question.
me: Do you think that God spared your life for a reason?
sk: God?
----------

Is Acid a Human Right?

(7)

Whew. Finally got that out of the way. Next week I'll do a piece on the 'philosophical ramifications' of my Acid Trips. What does that mean? Hmm. As I think about the subject I suppose I must mean, 'epistomological ramifications.' But there might be wider 'ramifications,' I don't know at the moment. I'll think about it. A couple of them just dawned on me but I'll save them for next week.

And what about the 'age issue:' is Acid really 'wasted on the young?' Do you need to have reached a certain stage of development in order to profit from an Acid Trip in the religious or the mystical sense?

What about legality? Do you become a vile druggie after doing Acid? Or, on the other hand is your natural human right to do Acid being currently constricted by a government which is infatuated with Phoney Religion? Do you have 'human rights' such as the rights to remain sexually intact and to do Acid when you finally come of age?

What about 'religious indoctrination?' Do you have the human right not to be indoctrinated into Phoney Religion before a certain age? Shouldn't your stupid parents have to wait until you are at least twelve years old?

The Acid Resurrection

(6)

The foregoing 'trip' was actually a composite, of course, of my 20+ Acid Trips. Except for that, 'construction,' everything is absolutely true, more or less. How to summarize The Acid Resurrection?

I would say that TAR is a gift from god. And by 'god' I do not mean the 'idiot in the bible.' That Idiot has no clue. Acid is a gift from Nature Herself, the True God. Through The Acid Resurrection I discovered that I was myself a god. I discovered, furthermore, that not only was I a god, I lived in the Kingdom of Heaven, the home of the gods. The people around me, my wife, my children, were also gods.

I discovered that this information is veiled from us. This information is gratuitous. This information is only available under special circumstances. This information is not necessary for survival (by the way I have moved beyond Beethoven at... lessee... 2127, and put on MPC#21, possibly my favorite Mozart Piano Concerto). Evolution may not favor this kind of gratuitous information, but it is, occasionally available.

Certainly, Phoney Religion does not favor such information. Phoney Religion is concerned with 'power and control.' TAR acts as a release from such power and control. Mother Nature does not want you to circumcise your babies: Phoney Religion, on the other hand, demands that you do so. Phoney Religion loves neither your babies nor you.

Phoney Religion hates you all. And Phoney Religion will burn you all in hell forever if you don't watch out.

Love Boat, Pot, and One Big Cobra

(5)

After watching the sunset I went back inside and began watching tv with Kootch and the kids. Loveboat was just beginning. What a masterpiece! We all (except for Kootch who was not tripping) cried over the most beautiful love stories we had ever seen. After Love Boat was over we continued watching tv through the evening news at ten oclock. Mark said, 'I'm comin' down real fast.' I said, 'Shall we strangen things up?' Mark went to the freezer and retrieved a nice juicy bud (of Colombian Gold), crumbled it, then rolled it into a joint and lit it up. We passed it around and everybody got at least one hit.

As 'things got strange again' I went back into the living room and put on some Beethoven. Glorious! The pot took about two to three hours to 'wear off.' Not only had it done it's job of 'strangening things up' it had taken the edge off what is always a 'hyper-caffine' feeling as the Acid wears off. We were all 'crashing' (coming back to normal) quite rapidly.

Kathleen and I decided to take a walk. We walked around the neighborhood at midnight totally unafraid. We talked. It was 'a father-daughter thing on Acid.'

Later, everybody, including Kootch, has hit the sack. I can't sleep. I decide to take a shower. Just as I reach for the hot water control I have the fleeting impression that the showerhead is really a cobra, ready to strike. The impression disappears. I take my shower. I still can't sleep.
I go to the kitchen to raid the fridge. I eat some leftover veggies but the leftover roast disgusts me. I eventually go to bed. I don't sleep.

She Ignored Me

(4)

Things went quickly uphill from there as I began to 're-inhabit' my entire body. I got out of bed and reentered the living room. I turned over the Beethoven record and put on the earphones. What glorious music! Until the fourth movement, that is. That movement is the 'thunderstorm movent.' When the 'thunderstorm drums and cymbals' sounded it was too much for my sensitive psyche. It sounded awful, threatening, harsh. I reached over to the phonograph and moved the arm to the next (and final) movement. Utter beauty! Glorious beauty!

After an hour or so I got up from the couch and checked in with Kootch and the kids. All was well. I went out into the back yard. It was late afternoon. Long shadows. Shadows made by the Sun. The glorious Sun! Yes! We have a Sun! It was all coming back to me now...

I laid down on the lush green grass. I ran my fingers through it as if through my own hair. This grass depended on me! For its very life! This grass was my responsibility! These tendrils of grass were my children. So were the insects living in the grass. They were all my children. How could I have used insecticide on my own children?! Never again!

I got up and went out to the front porch and sat down on the concrete patio next to the flowers. These flowers were also my children. What beautiful flowers! I spotted a honeybee among the flowers. She seemed totally oblivious of me as she flitted from flower to flower. What a lovely creature! I must pet her to show her how much I love her. I reached out with my index finger and stroked her on her back. She ignored me.

Mind Over Matter

(3)

I had just made my exit from 'the region of chaos.' My eyes were closed. The colors were dazzling. Too dazzling. I had gone into the bedroom as soon as it was clear that I had overdosed. I had lain (is that a word?) down on the huge king-sized bed and was lying on my side. The chaos passed. I opened my eyes. A hand was there.

I studied the hand. It was attached to a forearm. I marveled at the beauty of it. I studied the topology of it, the skin, hair... After a while I noticed hints of an underlying structure: bones, veins, tendons, muscles, fat... What a glorious hand! Furthermore I understood how it worked: there were, hidden deep within the hand and forearm, nerves which controlled the muscles of the hand. As each new realization dawned on me I experienced a sort of ecstacy.

After some time observing the hand it dawned on me that I had hands and that possibly what I was seeing was one of my own hands. I also realized that if this were indeed my own hand that I could control that hand... through the nerves. Should I try it? I tried it: I sent the hand a message to move. It moved! Mind over matter!

Resurrection is the Metaphor

(2)

Better do the 'Acid' part first. To recap last week's 'dissertation' using a slightly different metaphor: Acid undoes your cortical operating system. It does so in a very pleasing, sensual way... if you know what to expect. Otherwise this 'undoing' could be terrifying, even fatal should you make the very unwise decision to terminate your life in order to end the situation. If you have done enough Acid to reach what I call the 'region of chaos' you will experience a kind of mental gibberish, but that will pass as the effects of the drug wear off and your cortex reestablishes the usual neuronal pathways and circuit connections. What follows is an attempt to describe this process of 're-connection.' Necessarily, words are inadequate for the task. The Acid Experience is far beyond words. But I will try: I prefer the word, 'Resurrection.'

Resurrection is the metaphor. Do you want to know what Jesus himself experienced at His Resurrection? Then read on...

Fair Warning

(1)

No emails. I left off the dotnet part of the address, which might be in part to blame. There are other possibilities too, of course: (1) nobody reads this blog; (2) nobody wants to admit reading this blog.

There is a definite problem with Kootch's sister, to whom I sent an email just after kootch arrived. She attempted to reply but could not do so for unknown reasons. I may have to contact Comcast concerning this problem.

Kootch is doing well, sleeping a lot. This is a typical recovery for her, so far.

Tonight's subjects are, in no particular order:
----------
Acid
Kennedy lightening strike
English as a preferred language
HPV vaccination backlash
----------

There might be others, of course. Fair warning.

Nighty Night!

(11)

The foregoing post represents an experiment which I shall turn off immediately it becomes, in retrospect, unwise. No idiots need apply, of course. In fact, I look forward to answering some of your most pressing question, only I do not look forward to answering harrassing questions. I have enough of that in my life already. Be cool.

As I reread the previous posts it becomes clear that I have screwed them up during the process of correcting spelling errors, etc. Oh well. I will, for the time being, leave it to you to decipher.

Supper time. I just fried up a couple of salmon steaks. I will eat one now, and the other tomorrow evening, presuming that I will be in shape to stomach such fleshy fare.

By the way, my previous posts seem to have been done in time-sequence, only mis-numbered.

Nighty-night! Sleep tight!

Aren't You Curious?

(10)

So herewith, the interview. But what do you want to know? You can't ask me questions because I have turned off 'comments,' and 'comments' will stay turned off. So, 'what to do?' Will I have to imagine your questions? Apparently so. In what follows I will imagine your questions and give appropriate answers. (By the way, I have put BS#6 back into the case and am now listening to MPC#16.)

yu: Did you really do LSD?
me: Yes.
yu: Why?
me: Because it was there.
yu: Everest was there...
me: LSD was much easier. Do you have any serious questions?
yu: Touche. When did you first discover LSD?
me: In Kansas about 1957-59. I have forgot the exact date.
yu: You tripped in Kansas in 1958!?
me: No. I took a psychology course. The coursebook mentioned LSD.
yu: Why should we believe you?
me: Don't. Try it for yourselves.
yu: Some of us suspect that this so-called 'interview' is an attempt to avoid piercing questions concerning your real agenda. How do you answer that charge?
me: I understand. Concerning that question I am minded to propose a method of communication.
yu: Such as?
me: Remember, I am not big on person-to-person communications...
yu: We understand...
me: Can you translate the words, 'adan dot 300' into dotcom language?
yu: We think so.
me: Can you add the concept of, 'COMmunication CASTing' to the previous words?
yu: Yes.
me: And do you know what the definition of, 'at' is?
yu: Yes.
me: Then you may contact me directly.
yu: One last question: Why should we?
me: Aren't you curious?

French Wine Never Lies

(9)

I just saw Tom Hanks on The Tonight Show promoting his movie, 'Da Vinci Code.' I am a fan! I will see the movie in a nearby theater. Yes! Although I haven't read the book...

Speaking of books, I finally finished, 'The End of Faith.' What a book! The main problem with such a book is that you can't make a movie out of it... Or can you?

Just did my next-to-last swallow of Natural Light. It is all downhill from here as I turn to my backup of one (already tapped) half pint of Canadian Mist. Tomorrow will be a very bad day.

It just hit me that I have failed to come through on my promise to grant you a weekly interview. Hmm. Is this an appropriate time - as I am approaching the state of, 'drunk as a skunk' - to conduct such an interview? Should I not conduct such an interview during the first part of our Friday Night Seance? Hmm.

I think not. My reasoning goes like this: 'In Vino Veritas.' I think that's French for, 'French wine never lies.'

Drug Deaths

(12)

'The Chaos' is, by definition, not describable. Indeed, most of an LSD Trip is not describable. The LSD Trip truly resembles 'The Universe' in that it is, '...stranger than we can imagine.'

'What happens after the Chaos Stage' you ask? Well folks, that's for me to know and you to find out. Stay tuned. I will address that question next week.

(later) Just finished watching The MacLaughlin Group on 12, since my trivo apparently failed to understand my most recent instructions. Interesting. We are in more trouble than I thought we were...

While I was there in the living room I noticed a little rat running around on an elephant's trunk. The little rat resembled Wilma, my very first pet rat. Better pay attention to tonight's edition of 20-20. Hmm.

Sonia Belle had an interesting photo shoot concerning young women frolicking naked on the beach. I loved it. Question: do naked girls on a sandy beach have to worry about getting sand in their cunts? I wonder... And what about uncircumcised males? I love you, Sonia Belle!

I was just re-reading some previous posts and I was struck by my failure to point out (in, Lesser is Better) that Legal drugs kill many more people than illegal drugs, and specifically that Aspirin kills more people every year than all of the 'halluciniogens' put together.'

Only Chaos

(8)

Some time during the third hour, if I had done too much LSD, my brain would become completely disassembled. That is to say that all of the normal functions of the cortex would be disrupted. Absolutely nothing would make sense any more. Nothing! Even my beloved Beethoven would become so much musical gibberish. Amazingly, I remember, during one of my later trips, saying to myself as The Chaos approached, 'If you ever do this to me again I'll kill you!'

I presume it was a sort of 'inside joke.'

The lower brain centers kept on truckin' however. LSD does not affect the 'lower brain' and the brain stem, at least so far as life-controlling functions are concerned. I continued to breathe. My heart continued to pump. I did not die. Only my cortex 'died.'

This was an absolutely horrifying situation. That's the bad news. The good news is that my cortex had become so dysfunctional by that time that I was not capable of being horrified. There was no horror, no fear, no pain, no regret, no devil, only chaos.

Now I Remember!

(7)

By this time my visual system had lost all control and there was no such thing as blackness. When I closed my eyes as I listened to the music there was a stream of visual effects, extremely colorful, which definitely corresponded to the music I was hearing. As I moved my eyes around to view this amazing spectacle, the very movement of my eyes under the eyelids seemed to generate even more colorful effects. It became a sort of oscillation: music generating color; eye movement generating more color; color enhancing music. All the while there was an underlying otherworldly structure to the colors which seemed to flow like a gigantic river before my very eyes. Nothing of This Earth was seen. No 'hallucinations.' All the while my body was in the grip of a truly gigantic buzz. I was in Heaven Itself, totally alone, with no 'god' to disturb me.

The record (33 rpm) contained the first two movements on one side, the remaining three on the other. I would usually listen to side one during the 'ascent,' and to side two during the 'descent.' By far the most glorious moment, in terms of sheer beauty, always came at the beginning of the second movement (which is now approaching, by the way... yes!)

My memories of those trips becomes a bit murky as I try to remember the approach to the dreaded 'plateau of chaos.' The one thing I do remember is that I would always say (to myself) something like, 'Now I remember!' as if only my current state could grant access to otherwise hidden memories.

Another World

(6)

At this stage (T+ one hour) I would often look at my lovely wife, Kootch, with new eyes: She was a Goddess! She was all things I was not. She was an efficient, all-powerful, resolute, all-knowing, godlike woman! I was on an Acid Trip and this glorious woman from another world (for I had already left that comfortable, boring world) was protecting me.

At this point (or usually earlier) I would go into the bedroom and slip into my most luxurious pair of pink nylon panties (under my shorts, of course).

It was about here that I would disengage from the kids and go into the living room and lay down on the couch, after putting Beethoven's symphony #6 on the record player. (speaking of which, I just started that piece on Windows Media Player). Then I would close my eyes and listen. And see.

BeeBee's World

(5)

The effects of Acid (on an empty stomach) usually begin to manifest themselves within 30 minutes or so as, increased restlesness and a tendency to take deep breaths for no apparent reason. Beyond 30 minutes or so I noticed the beginning of what I called, 'the big buzz,' a buzzing sensation on the skin resembling that induced by a double-shot of alcohol. This is a very pleasant feeling and is the beginning of what will become a stunning increase in sensuality. Closing my eyes at this point I could detect the beginnings of 'hallucinations,' the loss of control by the visual system which results in a kalidascope of colors where there should be only blackness.

I also noticed the beginning of my brain's loss of the ability to make the outside world 'geometrically correct:' the angles of corners no longer seemed to be exactly 90 degrees, but something less, like about 80 degrees. The outside world seemed to be becoming a bit 'warped.'

I remember entering 'BB's World' on one occasion at this stage. I got down on my hands and knees by the kitchen table (near our Austrian Shepard, BeeBee) in order to say 'hello' up close and personal, and was stunned by how different 'the world' now appeared to be. I was literally in 'BeeBee's World!' I told the kids about my discovery and they all (Kathy, Jenny, and Mark - Kathy's husband and our family dope supplier), joined me. They were all equally impressed by this new world and we spent some time crawling around the house on all fours exploring BeeBee's World. BeeBee was also impressed and seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as much as we were as he trotted alongside us. I think even Kootch, our babysitter, was amused. I'm sure she was.

Three Hours Up; Nine Hours Down

(4)

That out of the way, I hereby raise a beer to the girl who said, 'Drink one for me,' as I was shopping at King Soopers yesterday. Here's to you, sweetie!'

Before I get too drunk I should make good on my promise of last week to describe an Acid Trip. Here goes:

An Acid Trip can be described as consisting of two phases with perhaps a plateau separating the two phases. Phase one can be described as, 'going up,' and phase two can be described as, 'coming down.' But these are 'druggie terms' which are essentially meaningless. I prefer the terms, 'Disassembly' and 'Reassembly:' Acid disassembles you. As the Acid wears off, you reassemble yourself. Simple as that. I would describe the 'plateau' as, 'the region of chaos' between phase one and phase two. This region only appears if you have done too much Acid; otherwise, the Acid Trip resembles a classic elongated sawtooth: three hours up; nine hours down.

ACSD: Arapahoe County Sheriff's Department

(3)

I'm one of those folks who is not at all worried by government interest in my personal life. In fact I would welcome it, especially in the form of increased ACSD interest in my claims of being stalked, harrassed, and surveilled. But unfortunately, the ACSD is made up of a huge bunch of bozos who couldn't find its collective fat ass with all hands.

This week's 'Survivor' turned out to be very interesting. Unfortunately, the results won't be in 'til the finale. Did you notice the digital padlocks?

The Da Vinci Code is slated to open soon. This fictional movie claims to expose the 'greatest cover-up of all time.' Well, maybe, but fiction is fiction: fact is fact. I claim to have exposed the greatest uncoverup of all time: the circumcision of America for 'health reasons.'

Whew!

(2)

The fourth call turned out to be interesting:

me: Hello?
gd: I do not appreciate the ejaculation, 'Fuck You.'
me: Was that You?!
gd: Exactly.
me: Well why didn't You answer my answer?
gd: Just testing whether your phone skills are as bad as advertised. They are.
me: What was wrong with the Brown Telephone? Is it broke?
gd: NSA.
me: What about NSA?
gd: Don't you read the news? NSA is surveilling all calls everywhere. I wouldn't want to be linked to the likes of you, frankly.
me: Relax. NSA is good, but not that good.
gd: You sure?
me: Positive. I used to work for NSA, sort of.
gd: Sort of?
me: In the USAFSS.
gd: Ahhh...
me: And even if they could intercept our communications, they would never believe You are who You say You are.
gd: You're sure.
me Sure. I never lie.
gd: Whew!

Phone Skills

(1)

Tonight's subjects:

----------
NSA and privacy
Da Vinci Code
Survivor
Phone calls
Joan
----------

Joan never answered my second email. She probably read my blog and went, 'Yeeesh...'

'Phone Calls' refers to three occasions when I deigned to answer the phone recently (I was expecting a call from Kaiser Permante).

First call:
me: Hello?
it: (silence for several long seconds).
me: What the fuck do you - whoever you are - want?
it: Begins to play a tape of somebody who is '...worried about my mortgage...'
me: (hung up)

Second call:
me: Hello?
it: (silence for several seconds).
me: Fuck you. (hangup.)

Third call:
me: Hello?
it: (tape of somebody who wonders if I am a 'renter.'
me: (hang up.)

It's very true, folks: my phone skills could use a little work...

Strange Universe

(11)

So I hereby write a note to myself to be read next friday night:

'Remember to remind your readers that, "...the Universe is not only stranger than we imagine, the universe is stranger than we can imagine."'

So it is with Acid.

Acid is Wasted on the Young

(10)

I probably don't need this reminder, but it seems to me at the time (now: 0227) that maybe I can add a little 'ambience' to next week's posts concerning Acid by using more color. I'll try it.

Also, I should remind myself of 'the law of supply and demand.' That is to say that we live in world which is utterly dependent for its continued existence on 'economic activity.' Acid and Acid Trips are 'a-economic,' or even 'anti-economic,' and therefore 'economically evil.' It follows that purely mystical activities would be at the very least, non-economical, therefore suspect in a highly economic world.

I am inclined to get around this objection by proposing that Acid be legal only for 'the retired.' That is to say that only those folks who do not contribute directly to the economy, and who have no prospects of doing so, be allowed to do Acid legally.

This proposal fits with my observations that Acid is wasted on the young, such observations being rooted in my experiences of having done Acid with my children: those two glorious females found Acid to be fun but not at all astonishing.

Strange Trip

(9)

Just sent my second email to Joan in Charleston. Poor girl! I feel almost guilty about involving her in this strange trip.

The Comcast email system is overcomplicated, especially when you're drunk. But since I do very little email I don't mind. Much.

Also I might have lied to Joan about how many people read my blog(s). It is true that, 'I don't know.' That much is true. But I suspect...

How do you tell someone that, 'you only suspect?'

0200 local and time to wrap this up

Damn that was fun!

(8)

Interesting! This is not the first time I've thought about 'granting you an interview.' I think I will make it a regular feature of Non Serviam from now on, in fact.

It seems to me that now is the time to summarize tonight's posts. I have finished the six beers and have only whiskey remaining as an inebriant; no Ganja. Things will go downhill rapidly from here.

Now if I can only remember what I meant by, 'summarize...'

(later) Ok, a possible summary just hit me: 'You can go through your lives without ever being astonished.' Hmm. I think there might be other possible summaries... but what about visiting my other blogs, drunk as a skunk?!

I'll try it. Standby...

I'm back. Damn that was fun!

My First Interview

(7)

It strikes me that this might be a good time for me to give you, my readers, an interview. In what follows I will imagine your questions, then proceed to answer those questions. This is my first interview.
----------
yu: If a bad trip lands you in Hell, will a good trip land you in Heaven?
me: Yes.
yu: What do you mean by, 'Heaven?'
me: The Kingdom of God.
yu: Jesus' version?
me: I suppose so.
yu: But you don't know.
me: Correct.
yu: Did you ever 'go to Heaven' during your Acid trips?
me: Yes.
yu: Did you meet God there, in Heaven?
me: No.
yu: And you went to Hell also?
me: Yes.
yu: And you found no Devil there?
me: No Devil.
yu: So acid is non-theological?
me: Exactly.
----------

Acid was Astonishing

(6)

Never do Acid without a 'babysitter,' someone (adult) whom you trust absolutely and who has the 'power' to 'intervene' should your trip take an unfortunate direction. The more 'family' you have around you, the better. In fact, if you follow my suggestions in these regards you are virtually guaranteed an experience which will be both astonishing and pleasurable.

Not to mention, illegal.

I use the word, 'astonishing' with due regard. In fact, I have never in my life used that word except in the context of an Acid Trip. Acid was astonishing.

Airplanes were 'very interesting.'

9-11 was 'amazing.'

Pussy was 'fantastic.'

Alcohol and Marijuana was, 'glorius.'

Only Acid was 'astonishing.'

Never Do Acid Alone

(5)

'Acid flashbacks' are a myth. I have never experienced a 'flashback.' Indeed, the 'acid inebriation process' is so complex as to preclude anything 'flashlike.' I did, on one occasion the day after a trip, experience a startling, fleeting, 'hallucination:' the showerhead, as I was taking a shower, suddenly seemed to become the head of a large snake. I was startled, but the hallucination disappeared as suddenly as it appeared and never returned. Even so, whenever I took a shower in that shower room from then on I wondered and remembered.

Acid does not produce hallucinations although it has that reputation. Acid does amplify visual experience. But that is for next friday night.

The great danger from Acid is 'psychological,' not 'neurological.' Acid does some very strange things to your brain, hence to your conscious life. My impression is that if your brain is 'normal' then Acid will cause no adverse permanent damage, but that on the other hand Acid may lead to some serious improvements. May not.

Never do Acid alone. God will not be there to console you if your trip goes wrong. If your trip turns ugly only one thing can save you: Love. Only love. There is no God on a bad Acid Trip, only The Devil. Not even The Devil. On a bad Acid trip you are alone in Hell with not even Satan to console you. You discover the horrible truth that not only is there no God, there is no Devil either.

So you should do Acid in a familiar setting, with people you love and trust. Home and family is best. If things take a bad turn you will be able to reverse that direction immediately with just a little snuggle.

Lesser is Better

(4)

Acid is illegal. Therefore you will not be able to really know (being gassed here with 'right lung gas') the dose you are ingesting. You will have to trust the dealer and the manufacturer that, 'a hit is a hit.' My advice is that you assume that a hit of Acid is equal to approximately 50 micrograms. My impression (although I really don't know) is that the ideal Acid trip is produced by ingesting 100 micrograms (of LSD-25). That would be two hits. But start with one hit.

Do not take any more Acid. Finish your trip for better or for worse. Wait at least a week before doing another trip. If your first trip was 'satisfactory,' then fine, you know your ideal dose for this particular batch of Acid. If you want to 'get higher' on your next trip, then you may double the dose (or add a fraction of a hit).

Avoid buying only one hit of Acid. You need to buy at least ten hits in order to evaluate dosage. But remember that Acid deteriorates over time, becoming less potent. If your acid is in the form of paper (blotter) then remember to keep it sandwiched between the original aluminum foils.

Be advised also that because Acid is illegal you do not want to buy too much at one time. If you get caught by the police, the rule is: 'Lesser is better.'

The lethal dose of Acid in humans is unknown. Aspirin kills more people every year than many illegal drugs combined (Acid, Ganja, Mescaline, Psycilocibin, etc).

Acid Preliminaries

(3)

Now to one of my favorite subjects: Lysergic Acid Diethylamide Tartrate-25 (did I get that right)?

I write about Acid as someone who did approximately twenty five (!) Acid trips between 1978 and 1980 (inclusive). I have forgotten a lot since then. That's the bad news. The good news is that there are some things about Acid trips which are unforgettable. So I write as a veteran of the experience, not as a 'student' who is interested in studying the subject from the outside. I write as an actual authority on the subject. My information was obtained from actual experience. I'll start from the periphery and sort of work my way toward the center.

You can't sleep on Acid. Forget about sleep. Begin early.

You don't get hungry on Acid, but it is possible to eat if you want to. Avoid meat if you get hungry, which you probably won't. On Acid meat is not 'meat' anymore: on Acid 'meat' becomes flesh.

It might be possible to do sex on Acid, either at the beginning of a trip or near the end. I distrust claims that Acid is an 'aphrodesiac.' My experience has been that Acid is extremely sensual but not at all sexual. Acid is not a sex drug. Better drop a tab of Viagra if you want sex. It is possible that Acid is a sexual stimulant at low doses, I wouldn't know. My impression is that low doses of Acid should be avoided.

I would also advise against high doses of Acid. Although the fatal dose in humans is unknown, at least one unfortunate elephant was apparently killed by humans investigating the dosage question. I doubt the elephant 'volunteered.' He or she was probably killed by 'psychologists' who were under the impression that they were performing some sort of service either to humanity or elephantanity.

Lying as Lifestyle

(2)

Just discovered that when you edit an already-published post the edited post does not publish even though blogger says it does.

Besides my Acid notes I have the following two related notes:

----------
National Prayer Day
Lying as a lifestyle
----------

Yesterday was National Prayer Day. My question is, 'Did it work?'

Lying as a Lifestyle is, it seems to me, epidemic. Everybody lies, more or less. Most liars don't even realize they are lying, and the ones you would least suspect as being liars do the most lying.

Still Nookiless in Colorado

(1)

Kootch has been gone ten days now and still no nookie.

Since I switched to broadband there have been no fan warnings on startup. Several months after I bought the current PC, the warning, 'CPU fan failure - system will shut down in (several seconds) - F2 to abort shutdown' would appear. This would happen about 50% of the time. At first I would give the computer a mild karate chop and try again. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. I eventually began to hit F2, which always worked.

The processor never burned up. But after Mcafee got rid of the trojan files, that warning disappeared. I suspect the warning was the result of a trojan which was either designed to irritate me or to induce me to bring the thing back to Best Buy where the technician there would be able to perform more 'complex' surgury. I think the trojans were inserted as part of 'updates from hp.'

News time...