The Message

On Wednesday morning, June 5th, I received the following message on my cell phone voice mail. The caller never identified himself. His voice wavers at times, but his message does not...

Note: This revised version of The Message contains additional bla-bla-bla at the end. The original version was truncated for reasons notwithstanding. The final piece has been included for your viewing pleasure and substantial exaltation. 

The Soup - What U Gonna Do 'Bout It

So here's a new song I wrote and recorded. Made a video of it. You're going to love it. It's all about how everything's a hot mess and how the Sun's going to clean it right up.

Enjoy!

btw: This video and song belong to my person, and if you mess with it, God through me will sick an army of karma on you. Peace.

I Rode Up On a Rocketship

I rode up on a rocketship to heaven's pearly gates

The doorman said, "Got yer ticket?

Out the thicket! We gots no room fer pagan hate

Fer tricks, an rickshaw runnin cow-bowin Hindooz,

Kow-towin Boodasts, shucklin Jooz,

Up in these here bles-sed hills...

If yer not fer Jeezus, ya kin git to Hell!"

Politely I reminded him of my Christening,

My goodly, Christian glistening, my listening

To all those sermons piously 'neath stained glass

On Sunday mornings with a tear upon my cheek.

"Yeh bet yer ass!" he spat and opened up the way.

"Git yonder 'n an see with yer own lit gaze

He that died to set yer white soul free! Go'n ye!"

I humbly nodded and stepped

Across that glorious threshold

To behold the Son of Man

And that vast array of angels He commands.

His glowing countenance showering forth

Radiant light. His hair and robes like snow.

His flaming heart with beams of love and grace.

His face a thing of perfect symmetry,

His every move geometrically aligned,

And I bowed down and cried

And kissed his nail-pierced feet.

He greeted me with kind embrace

And whispered in my shivering ear,

“My child, come nearer,

I will take thee to my Father’s house,

Where lie the many mansions of that vast mind.”

Boldly then we flew before the throne of grace,

Which looked oddly like a circus tent,

I mused, and curiously turned a curious eye on Christ.

“Not I,” he leered, his teeth as pearly as the walls,

“But the Father…” and with so grand a gesture

Swept my gaze upon a maudlin clown.

Aghast I sucked the astral air into my lungs,

My tongue cleft tight upon my stunned mouth’s roof,

As garish pantaloons ballooned out from

That great fool’s suspenders, hung like fish kites,

Round mouthed “Oh-ing”

At the gaping space beneath his tipping tottering toes.

Gayly whirling, pasty white, and spackled fresh

As picket fences on a Sunday lawn,

His garish grin, red-rimmed and lush as sin.

“My God!” I gasped,

And he who died for me

Spoke: “Now you see.”

Tucson Wants to Intercept my Lottery Winnings

Dear Sir or Madam,

Thank you for your public service.

Now that we have dispensed with the niceties, I would like to address a matter of minimal concern to myself and likely of minimal concern to you as well. Since I suspect, at the end of the day, as surely as I am merely a statistic, thou art merely a bureaucratic drone, I therefore greet you with the tepid fervor of a man uncaring, and you, I presume, receive me with the same inconsequent torpor. No doubt a profound humanity shivers at the gooey center of our culturally sculpted frames, but that is neither the “here” nor “there” of it. It is our business that is imminent, though our natures be eminent.

After some novel correspondence with the City of Tucson I was under the distinct but, lo and behold, apparently misinformed impression that our row concluded when I sent you those fivers in a Federal Reserve note,a Monopoly bill, and my own special printing. I skipped merrily along my tortuous way with the false comfort that my tiff with Tucson was, as the French say, fin.

Then, as suddenly as meteorite debris o’er Russia, I was sent a terse note:

NOTICE OF DELINQUENT ACCOUNT with threats of “the interception of Arizona tax refunds or lottery winnings” in red.

“Oh my!” thought I, and my little lower class heart leapt in my chest.

In regards to the interception of my Arizona tax return: Even though I live frivolously and suavely below the poverty line, I have yet to ever receive a tax refund from the State of Arizona. I am actually wondering upon whom or what I have to perform fellatio in order to receive said refund. My next question would be, would the City of Tucson take fellatio in settlement for a delinquent account. This is not to say that I would be willing to give fellatio to Tucson Proper, but rather a question of whether Tucson could legally intercept any fellatio I may have coming to me by any number of Proper Tucsonians.

With regards to the interception of lottery winnings: While I don’t play the lottery… ever… I’d like to think that if I did play and won (at odds of 1 in 135,000,000 for the Mega Millions jackpot; 1 in 50,000,000 for the Megabucks Slot Machine jackpot; or 1 in 960,000 for the $1,000 Scratch ticket) that I would still be awarded my full share without your claimed $523.60 being deducted. Moreover, I would contend that my odds of becoming a billionaire (1 in 7,000,000) or becoming President of the USA (1 in 10,000,000) are still better chances, by 7 and 5 times respectively, than are my chances of winning the Megabucks Slot Machine jackpot. By this measure I would encourage you to seek your paltry trove in my future as a billionaire or as a President, as your surety of payment is significantly greater under these rare circumstances, as would be your cut if I were to sue Jehovah, God for damages in the event that I am struck by lightning (1 in 700,000) or dealt a royal flush in a high-stakes poker game (1 in 650,000). My ample point is that there are easier interceptions than this Hail Mary lottery scheme of yours, and perhaps you would be willing to hire me as an assessor of other rewarding statistical probabilities whereby the sheered public may render unto Caesar, or in my case, the cops.

Following your rude red letters comes a rather vague allusion, “…and other sanctions authorized by law.” I would like full disclosure on this point, as “indefinite detention”, “my firstborn son”, “my left nut”, and “taking it out of my ass” are less than desirable options for me. I would like to see my choices on this front, and I am happy to work out a mutually beneficial solution that doesn’t involve “a pox on my house”.

I remain ever insubordinate,

Ox in the Box

Society for Theocratic Anarchy 

Enthusiastic Chat with Asa

me: Hi Asa!

Asa: hi

me: What are you up to, Brother?

Asa: what

me: What are you doing?

Asa: nothing

me: No, you are typing, and you are on the computer.

Asa: oh

me: So you are doing some things. Nothing is when every thing goes away.

Asa: yeah

me: The only time we do nothing is in deep dreamless sleep. When we are sleeping so soundly that our perception of time vanishes.

Asa: who cares

me: I care. It is important to be precise in our communications. There is power in precision.

Asa: i dont know what your talking about

me: In other words, it is good to use the right words at the right time. To say you are doing "nothing" when you are really doing "something" is a misuse of the power of words. Not everyone can use words. Only humans use words. So the quality of our words is the quality of our humanity.

Asa: whatever

me: Whatever? Do not dismiss me so quickly. Apathy is a road to misery.

Asa: ok

me: Develop your mind. Read big books. Learn a lot of words.

Asa: ok

me: Wealth and power and happiness grace those with a strong mind. Never say, "whatever".

Asa: why

me: "Whatever" means that you do not care. If you do not care then life will eat you. You must care. Even if it is only for one thing. Care.

Asa: ok

me: Care so much.

Asa: ok

me: You will have a lot of energy and strength if you care. Do not simply type "ok". Enthusiasm, my son! Look up that word - Enthusiasm! Find out what it means and discover its roots. Embody it and life will flow in and out of you like sweet water. 

Asa: i dont want to

me: Why not?

Asa: its boring

me: Enthusiasm is anything but boring.

Asa: ok

me: To be enthused is to vibrate the cells in your body at a very high rate.

Asa: ok

me: The highest enthusiasm is to move faster than light and to manipulate reality with your mind. Wizards and sorcerers are enthused.

Asa: ok

me: Warriors and avatars are enthused.

Asa: ok

me: Look it up, and become enthusiastic.

Asa: no

me: You know when you are really excited about something? As in when you get a new video game?

Asa: yeah

me: Or you are about to do something really fun? That feeling is "enthusiasm".

Asa: ok

me: What if you could feel enthusiasm all the time?

Asa: this is geting borring

me: What if you could feel enthusiasm all the time... for everything?

Asa: who cares

me: That's because you don't see what's happening right now!

Asa: ok

me: You are my son. Before you were conceived, I took genetic material from my body and put it inside of your mother. You grew there, inside of her! When you gained enough mass she pushed you from her body and you became separate from her! I was so happy that day. I was enthusiastic.

Asa: whatever

me: You were not here before. You were a dream, and now you are here, and we are talking, as father and son, across a great distance through the miracle of digital technology. It's a reason to be enthused!

Asa: whatever

me: Someday you will understand, and you will be in awe. But "whatever" is the road to ruin. It's a sad and selfish trip.

Asa: ok

me: It's me! It's you! There's a we, and we are chatting online! It's amazing!

Asa: i want to stop talking

me: (Technically you are typing.)

Asa: ok,i ant to stopw imean

me: But wow... Look at that you are pressing buttons made of petroleum by-product and making words for me to read!

Asa: i keet pressing the wrong bottons

me: Then stop! It's your choice! You can do what you please! It's fantastic! You have a will with wants!

Asa: ghjdfkiufdhgiurehgvjfhuighrfuivhiuotfghiu

me: Wel pfes teh riht wons!

  

alhifoinfeonvodk

Asa: fgufdhfre7tghuufd t uergduertfuydb ygrufuy v vgv g v gvg v gvg v gvg vg vg v gvjhb hvfcvjhv tfcvghvyfcg vfv ghvftc

me: lin mi sonyi olik psa;lknf rif

Asa: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

me: Oh my...

Asa: rfgbrfgvbrtghrtgfhqwqewtgbnfjvnfrijvbfdjvdfhuvgcjgeruy

me: So spontaneous! It's all just happening!

Asa: zqawxsecdrvftbgynhujmi,koolllpqazwsxedcrfvtgbyhnjmuik,ol.p;/

me: I don't understand your profound logic.

Asa: qazstryeghffffbv awwawawwaawwasefchcjgjg,hj,hjfkjgkgjhhuhuygybytdfyvhjbtvhbhvjkbhfhbvhvkjvghjvnvjhv,jvjhvhj

me: such nonsense! I love you, Asa.

Asa: ok !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

me: That's the enthusiasm I'm talking about! Do you want to hang out tonight?

Asa: yeah

me: yeah or YEAH!!!

Asa: oooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

me: Boo Yeah!!!

Asa: ok

  

ertffxrytccftdfvtuyvftdc

  

crdcygfrdtxcghv65

  

fgtrgvbhjfdjgjhr

  

gfdbiudfvygbdfgyvbfgrt

  

fghufyvgrtygfyuvgfr

  

gfhyfhgfjgh

  

fhgfjgjhj

  

hgfjhfghjfghjhgf

me: I'll be by after work.

Asa: hjgfjythjgyhgyfbghghghghhghhhhhhugui45tyregfbdjt5ygrufh

me: oh numbers too?

Asa: laksjhdgueiwuddhhvgvcbcgbqazzzzzzzzwqwsxedcrfvtgbyhnujmizqawsxedcrfvtgbyhxwsedcrfvtgbyhnujexdcrftvgybhxedcrftvgybhnjcrdftvgybhun

me: Is this spam or a secret message?

Asa: 12345678909876543234567876543234567654323456787654345678765456776545678876545684567898345678876545678987664678908765489076546789655678900876547890====================================================+++++++++++++++++++++++++++_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________----------------------------------------------

Twizzlestix!

The cacophonic calculations of one billion beaming star streams and all the fishy souls therein twisting into flesh and blood and bones amongst the hum and tones of stellar tunes, the looms along the wings of time, and woven weaving in vines and lines of love come creatures of such struggle, smug, and self conceited, hiding from their highest song. These men, the error of a hundred thousand screaming suns, the echoes of some coughing god, who having spat them out as phlegm, negligent, twisted, coiled, and recalcitrant to make it straight; to clean it up; to demonstrate a variation of the spasm of that great goule. Leering query of the quaint and quivering kind, “Eh hem” – politely and too politic, by some Methodistic insistence on contained rage, to call a spade a spade and, nay, a knife a knife; a gun as such. The weeping weapon we all possess and jilt about triangular and awkward toward some inner urge to mate, to make more, to mimic that grand hacking hack above the clouds or hidden in plain view. To these we turn our attention.

We mention first the existential obvious: that they know nothing of their origins. Poems they wrote and cryptic riddles, and some claim mythic knowledge by the whispers of that old pervert they call God. But deep down, they none of them know the past, nor even the past before their born. They say, “It’s thus”, and self convinced they trot about content with nonsense, content with tents that teeter shameful in the winds that come in the quiet, when fate and sorrow pour themselves like oil upon their hands and their hair falls slack about their gaunt faces, and they face the shuddering starkness of their naked minds. They say, “And then”, and cajole and jaunt and jitterbug, and then when the silence they’ve been holding back breaches their silly levies, they flood with nothing and stand agape staring ahead in this hard moment. “Now,” say some, but their now eclipses all the many riddles that they cannot answer, and so they sanctuary in the bitter moment and feign lightness, as do those they touch. No, they know not from where, or how, and they wonder when, and when, and when, and when when comes, they remember then.

Convinced opinions on everything and the weather they pile about them seeking comfort in the comely voices of their peers, but pierce the prose and they are but tinkling symbol, sounding brass, radio static, television snow, and the fickle strength that comes with blown cocaine, the caffeine dream, cannabis seem. All is veiled, and all is vain. We see through a glass darkly, and darkly we stumble, some to stone and some to throne and all unknown. There is no science that can compensate for this wanton ignorance, this tavern cavern wherein we drink of all but truth, and our pleasures are so little, like moths we burn and our powdered flitter adds to the smog. Guess and guess again – a game we play with fire and ice, and, lo, the world doth grind to a halt, and the alternating currents, lunar and solar, polarize, and the caps melt fast in our fervent heat. “Eat, drink, merry make ye!” shrieks the horde of beauty bound idols and their masters sweat and linger on the side, biding time that isn’t theirs. Minding their show business while the sky falls in chemical screens dropped by mindless pilots flying to tomorrow land.

Do not fear the sinister. Fear the brute.  Fear that we are in thrall to the growling maw of ignorance, to our lowest instincts, to those mechanical habits that lurch and drive us, staggering against reason, beauty, and compassion toward the void. No wonder faith and blind dogma, its superstitious bitch, remain the obsession of the masses. It is a candle in the hurricane of our ancient existential crises. 

I'm Having a Very Bad Day

Culture: hey man

I'm having a very bad day

me: bad?

Culture: "bad", so says the ego

me: bri

Culture: just moving through some stuff.....

no, no need

don't worry man

personal stuff

me: ok

well go ahead and go

Culture: :)

thanks, man

and I appreciate you caring

I do

me: you bet

Culture: in wanting to come over I mean

me: good luck sortin it out

Culture: :)

thank you.....letting go a little more all the time

what else is all the bullshit for?

me: grow a beard

grow it long and wanton

Culture: I just may....

I just may....

me: it will help

it roots the mind

one cannot cut the roots of the brain and expect it not to fall over or dry up

Culture: and what about the heart?

I think there's no guarding that

and maybe it shouldn't be so....

me: When the mind is still, the heart finds its place.

Culture: it's true, and vice versa also

me: When the heart finds its place the belly becomes light

when the belly becomes light the eyes become dim

when the eyes become dim one sees the world beyond the senses

in seeing the world beyond the senses one casts aside faith for knowledge

but with knowledge comes bondage

In bondage one cries out for help.

In crying out for help, help is delivered.

When help is delivered humility comes

When humility comes contentment arises

when contentment arises desire dies

Culture: I think you should make it your new blog

me: When desire dies happiness prevails

Culture: the whole string of progression

for me....it's simple

happy to be sad

whatever it is, it's okay

don't deny it, don't push it away

me: indeed

Culture: then what problem is there really?

naked experience carries all forms

but none of them ever stick

me: There are no problems, only perceptions

Culture: so, right....I'm fine

me: and also if you stick your hand under a running mower it will chop you up.

Culture: but I'm still having a very bad day

:)

me: yes

you should go to your van

Culture: :)

see you tomorrow

me: tomorrow and tomorrow