Yesterday I was sent an email that went into my spam box. It wasn’t until further delving that it was made clear to me that the Universe’s filing system had not made a mistake. The email was sent to me from this “Enlightening Nonsense” site notifying me that someone wanted to register for my un-blog. I am new to the world of “You have something to say–say it on the Internet” so I can only guess that by someone registering for this site that would mean that every time I put up a new posting, they will receive an email telling them so.
I know of many people who have come to this site but this was my first registration request and I was like a Catholic school girl who didn’t realize until she got to school that she forgot to put on panties–a bit nervous that I would take a ruler smack down from Sister “God-Loves-You-So-Much-He-Sent-Me-Down-To-Beat-You,” but also kind of free and airy, like the first time Kramer on “Seinfeld” went “commando.”
I wrote “Chad” back a one-line email, thanking him for showing an interest in my site and asking him how he found came to it. What I received back was another tough-love lesson from the Universe. I used to find it downright bullshit when the Universe used to say to me, “This hurts me more than it hurts you,” as she would bend me over the table of fate and proceed to sodomize me, but I’ve come to realize that everything she throws at me is really out of love and not like a frustrated housewife throwing dishes against the wall because she wants to punish her no-good, cheating, prick of a husband.
What I received back from Chad could only be described as an electronic version of one of those magazine letter cut-out ransom notes. Now coming from one whose most quotable lines include “as dry as a nun’s vagina,” even I found it a bit too much.
I’m reminded of when I did my first open mic stand-up routine. There were other newbies there that night and one woman before me opened her set thanking the M.C. with “To the man who wants my pussy.” It was at that moment that I wished each seat in the house was equipped with an airline barf bag (something that United Scareways probably charges for!) and realized that tasteless without cleverness makes you just a low-class whore.
There are times people allow their panties to get so bunched up by what they perceive as tasteless that they couldn’t see the clever in it if it farted on their forehead. Perhaps I fell into this trap and couldn’t see the brilliance of my first subscriber, Chad’s, wit. I will share his email and lead you students of comedy through my process of breaking down the humor:
wouldnt it b nice to share johnny applesauce?
could you share with me on my un-pussy?
your cite makes me see officer moriarty go down on mr magoo like the raw fag u r
OH MISTA MAGLOOO say it in chink voice and tie yer hair in a knot with buxteeth
sometimes when i melt fudge it goes so sweet and gooey like the cum outta yer assho’
and then i take 2 advil and jojo meditates
blessings – oh aint that nice o u mr. fried chicken and biscuits marmalade jelli
KFC – kunt fucked coon – i take mine with ketchup and hot sauce
Okay then. Let’s break it down:
“Johnny applesauce” - A clever double play on “Johnny Appleseed” and “sauce” referring to semen.
“Un-pussy” – I get it, I call my site an “un-blog.”
“Your cite” - what others may see as the misspellings of someone with about as much functioning brain matter as Terry Schiavo, I believe to be his subconscious Dangerfield using the double entendre of “site,” as in “website” and “cite” as in “citation.”
“Officer Moriarty“ – Perhaps a reference to William Moriarty (1792-1850) who was born at a place called “Dingle” in Ireland–which is a funny name that reminds one of the little speck of poo that clings on for dear life, too nervous to take the plunge from ass to bowl–who at 15 became midshipman in the Nymph–adding a sexual reference, that is always good to stimulate the lower consciousness, henceforth subliminal placement of words like “SEX” in Disney movies and ads with ice cubes and Camel Joe’s face looking like a schlong (“I consider myself predominantly straight, but all of a sudden I have the overwhelming urge to put a dick in my mouth–I guess I’ll just buy a pack of Camel cigarettes instead.”) An obscure reference that only Chad and Dennis Miller would probably get but still, no one could deny the comic genius of it.
“Buxteeth” – On the surface just a misspelling of “buck teeth” but delving deeper–can one not see the social commentary that we should “put our money–or ‘bucks’–where our mouth is?” And isn’t that so true, that while we often bitch about things, we are still supporting the subject of complaint by putting our hard-earned money into buying said object–or maybe going to the website of insult and spending hours reading its content?
“Fudge” - May be a reference to fecal matter, although I’d have to go back to my grade school journals to confirm if this is the case or just an ancient swami’s faulty memory.
“kunt fucked coon” – I think this is one of the most intellectual references in the correspondence. What many would just read as more misspelled childish vulgarity, I immediately saw as a shortened version of the old English word Kunticular to describe something that goes up and down and smells like fish.
And while my breakdown above may earn me instant professorship at a progressive university teaching a course on “Comic Wordplay,” let’s take a moment to quit jerking each other off and get a few towels around to clean up all this messy “sauce.”
I wrote Chad a one-line email back saying, “There is a difference in being vulgar and clever and just plain vulgar” and this is why many comedicly-challenged people don’t “get” shows like “South Park.” But if Chad had left it at that first email, I would think him no brighter than a typical white trash trailer park loser who joined the Ku Klux Klan because his name begins with “C” and he thought having three K’s embroidered on all his shirts would be kinda, sorta close. But Chad then also wrote a much more comprehendible commentary that he wanted me to post on this site, in which he put down my character as being narcissistic and a yoga poser.
The pathetic thing about this is his commentary was to “A Rose By Any Other Name–Would Be A Stupid Name,” a 23-page mini-novel about how we are not the costumes we wear in which I emphasized that you shouldn’t take my “character” seriously, that it is just that–a character.
An interview of Osho I saw on YouTube (my favorite site besides www.howtowasteyourtimeandspendhoursreadingthingsyoufindobjectionable.com) ended like this:
INTERVIEWER: “…You must be one of the world’s great con men, it would seem.”
OSHO: “I am.” (great laughter from audience)
INTERVIEWER: And it takes a great man to admit that.
OSHO: Certainly. (enormous laughter from audience)
I am not sure whether the interviewer took this as Osho admitting he is a fraud or the true meaning Osho was sharing in his play: that who he is is not the character you see before you, that you have created this character as much as he has–and this is the fraud.
So whether I play the wise swami or the dirty hippie–“Don’t focus on the fraud or you will miss all that heavenly glory.” And why does the fraud offend you? If you get any teachings from the fraud then hurray! If not, why are you investing your time in such a useless deception? Howard Stern said it best to his detractors: “Change the station.” Seriously, are you such an addict that you’re glued to your seat watching Carlos Mencia thinking, “This is the lamest plagiarized comedy I have ever seen–and yet I can’t take my eyes away”?
The social/political comedian Bill Hicks said that he did a show in some hick place (I’m so in the flow that I didn’t notice this play on words until my second read through!) and after the show a couple of hillbillies came up to him and said, “We didn’t much like what you said in there.”
He responded, “Then forget about me.”
Spending your time straining your three remaining brain cells thinking up clever insults such as “OH MISTA MAGLOOO say it in chink voice”–why? Forget about me. Or are you one of those Christian missionaries who thinks that unless you save my soul from my own arrogant ways that I’m gonna fuck up the paradise that will come when Jesus comes back to earth and kills all the Jews and dry cleans the dirty and buried costumes so that souls can inhabit them once again? Forget about me.
Chad mentioned to me that he found out about this site from his “guru.” When I asked him who his guru was he told me it was Amma. For those of you who don’t know, that’s the woman often referred to as “The Hugging Saint” because she will have all-day affairs where she hugs a few thousand people.
A few years ago when she came to New York City, I waited in line and at two in the morning I finally got my hug. I thought it was a pretty good hug but I didn’t have to change my underwear after it or anything. I guess perhaps Amma had to change her drawers after hugging me, that must be why I am still in her mind and she is referring people to my site, or “cite,” as it may be. Either that or Chad might have lied about Amma being his guru but when in doubt I always go with the person that writes,“…sweet and gooey like the cum that comes outa your assho’” and if I see that bitch Amma again, I am going to give her a piece of my mind-–either that or stain her sari with some of the “sweet and gooey cum from my assho’.”
According to the Hindu Janajagruti Samiti webpage (my third favorite website, despite today being the first and last time I will ever go to it) [http://www.hindujagruti.org/hinduism/knowledge/article/what-does-the-term-guru-mean.html]:
‘Gu (गु)’ refers to darkness assuming the form of ignorance and ‘ru (रु)’ to the radiance in the form of spiritual knowledge, which dispels this darkness. Thus the Guru is the one who dispels the darkness of ignorance.
Today the term is often applied to someone who is an economics wiz or a great coach-–“He’s my business guru.” I have a feeling that Chad is using it in much the same way, only it involves some Indian person and he finds the label “spiritual” to more easily stick to her costume.
Reading reviews of a book critical of Osho on both amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com, I found it quite interesting that I saw three different reviews that said almost the exact same thing, something like, “Wow, that’s terrible if that happened! Still, Osho brought me to a better place.” In our minds we want our “gurus” to be like Gandhi, seemingly pure and with only seven possessions to his name: a robe, a pair of underwear, a walking stick, eyeglasses, a bowl, a pair of shoes and a Blackberry. So when the teachings come from of a cursing, joking, not taking himself so seriously source we immediately say, “No, that is no guru. He doesn’t act like a guru.” This is why many didn’t “get” Osho nor inhale the scent that came from his lotus feet, because they couldn’t see past the bunions and Athlete’s Foot. If a guru is one who dispels your ignorance and brings you more wisdom then what does it matter if he uses sprinkles into his speech, dare I say it, the “f” word?
I saw a comment under one of Puppetji’s YouTube videos that said something like, “No one would listen to him if he didn’t curse.” They accuse Puppetji of having a filthy mouth but it is they who cannot see the perfectly clean hand beneath the dirt, whose wisdom is well worth messing up their preconceived notions of what constitutes “spirituality.”
If I have helped you in no other way but to shed some “light” on what you don’t want to be, perhaps you should bow down to my feet and call me “Guru”-–and give me a blowjob while you’re down there. I rather you come to me to play rather than to bow down, despite how great you suck cock. I rather you find Wisdom by living your life, not by putting down mine; She won’t reveal herself to you that way. But it seems you don’t really care to meet her.
Osho said that whatever the problem anyone might have he always felt the “medicine” was meditation. If you don’t find my sense of humor particularly amusing, just go to the REFLECTIONS and MEDITATIONS at the end. That is the real work; the rest is just the rantings from how Eve in “V for Vendetta” first saw V: “Are you like a crazy person?”
Focusing on what you like or dislike about me or another is not doing “the work.” It is a bullshit distraction that we use to keep yourself from growing from a seedling to a great oak. A seedling, like a baby, is cute for a little while. But a 30-year old baby is no longer cute–it’s Gary Coleman and it’s freakish!
I would say you can judge a guru by their fruits. Bruce Lee was a charismatic movie actor and martial artist but he wasn’t that great of a teacher. You don’t hear of anyone who studied with him who was any good, besides Dan Inosanto and he was already a kick-ass martial artist before he met Bruce. If Amma’s fruits are students who are full of anger and express it childishly then she is a guru that I would respect much less than a foul-mouthed one who imparts Wisdom.
When Gandhi was leaving on a bus, a reporter shouted to him, “What lesson can you leave us?” and Gandhi replied, “My life is my lesson–hold on, please, just got an email on my Blackberry.” Let YOUR life to be your lesson. Not mine. Not Gandhi’s. Not Jesus’. And with that comes responsibility. There is no more blaming God for you being so miserable and getting nothing out of life but a happy ending at the Korean massage parlor. It is YOUR life. I don’t want to be anyone’s “guru.” Do me a favor and forget about me.
I had a conversation with Jesus. I said, “Jesus, you’re to blame for all of this hatred and killing we see in the world. You should have realized that people were too stupid to understand what you meant.” Jesus said, “I gave you people gems. If you want to use them to bang nails into the wall that’s your fuckin’ problem.” I asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that people have been bastardizing your message and claiming that this is what you meant?” He said, “In the language of Aramaic, which is what I predominantly spoke back in the day, there is no separation between inside and outside, between above and below. When I said, ‘Forgive them Father for they know not what they do,’ I wasn’t talking to some outside force, I was talking to myself and reminding myself to step above my old urges of blame and anger and move to one of love and understanding. I was reminding myselfto forgive them.”
It was some deep shit that only two soul brothers could share. I said, “Still, if it were me I would come back and instead of resurrecting people and killing the Jews, I would go into the back of churches and stand up in the middle of the sermon–like when Woody Allen in Annie Hall pulls from offscreen the director of the film that they were in line to see in order to put in place the blabbermouth in front of him who is trying to show off to his date about how much he knows about the director–and say, ‘That is 100% not what I meant!’” He smiled at me said, “Enough of this heavy shit–let’s get high!” then we lit up a doobie and both got as high as a kite. And for the record, let me just say that Jesus really gets the munchies when he’s high.
Like Will said to the math professor in “Good Will Hunting,” “I wish you could understand this!” Chad, I wish you could write with humor and maybe even have something to say of importance. But this is not your gift. So if your singing voice sounds like a frog, why would you grab the microphone before the World Series and croak out “The Star-Spangled Banner”? Do what you do best and go to cars on the West Side Highway and make some money.
One of my favorite scenes from “Good Will Hunting” is the scene where Sean (Robin Williams) sits Will down in the park and lets him know that he sees the character that Will is playing and passing off as real. In this scene Sean gives a monologue that is so heartfelt and penetrating that even the lump of coal in the center of my chest felt something. It starts like this:
“I thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me. Fell into a deep peaceful sleep and I haven’t thought about you since. You know what occurred to me? You’re just a kid. You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
The same thing happened to me regarding Chad. What Chad wrote kept me up for awhile thinking. I then lay down in bed sent light to Chad. This was not because “I am so spiritual” or just wanted to use this later to tell the “seeker girls” and try to get laid. It was more for me than for Chad. I had to fight against the common desire to kill him in his sleep with evil intention because I want to break free from that old pattern of darkeness. I started to feel a pain in my chest and shifted my focus to filling myself with light for my own protection. Then I said, “Fuck that!” and decided I would not lighten up sending light no matter how painful it might get.
Has anyone figured out why this piece is called “Mein Kampf” yet? That was the name of Hitler’s autobiography and as much as I admire anyone who could turn a failed art career into a dictatorship, that is not the reason. It translates as “My Struggle.” I am not perfect. It is a struggle for me to not want to rip someone a new asshole with words or with fists–especially when they write things about my dog like, “Id [sic] like to take that little shit to Korea and have a nice barbecue.” I am capable of both but did my best in this situation to keep the phrase “hanging chad” to remain only an example of voter fraud and not what happens when people fuck with me or my dog. I am doing my best to make choices that are filled more with “light” than “darkness.” Do I make a few “shady” choices on occasion? Yes. But I always reflect and refine instead of complain and blame.
It is also “my struggle” to have a certain awareness of Who I Am, or at least What I Am Not. Chad took my comment on how students fall in love with me as narcissism because he cannot read the words I write through my understanding, the same reason why some read the “Bible” of their particular culture and use it to justify hate and killing and others use it to spread love and union. I believe this is also part of the reason that the immortal yogi Babaji didn’t put down into words his teachings for a long time before finally dictating three pieces for others to transcribe–that and the fact that often when words are frozen they become dead imitations of life.
What I wrote was how “the fallen” do not love me but are merely projecting their own personal needs into their own self-projected character that they believe could placate those needs. Is that narcissistic to say that no one loves me and those that do don’t really? Can you imagine what it is like to walk around like a spectator to much of life, only playing at Be-ing because you can’t seem to get into any of the nonsense that people concern themselves with? This is not something to boast about or think one’s “cool” for having such an awareness. It is a struggle. Chad wouldn’t know this because he is playing the character of the self-professed “Ego Killer.” There are times I wish I could play such a simplistic role. But once you see The Matrix for what it is you can never fully be reinstalled, although at times you can forget for a moment, the way I try to forget Keanu Reeves terrible acting.
I didn’t choose to eat vegan because I didn’t like the taste of burgers and sushi or just because I thought it was “good for me.” I don’t eat mostly raw because I dislike the taste of vegan pizza and brownies. I started eating vegan because I wanted to lessen my involvement with hurting other sentient beings and I eat mostly raw because I know that cooked foods rob my body of vital lifeforce energy that could otherwise be applied towards greater awareness. Is this narcissism? No, it’s a choice. And if my heart is really about non-violence and higher consciousness, it is a choiceless choice.
It is also at times a struggle. It doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. I have told a drug addict from the neighborhood who I talk with once in awhile that I am no better than he and, unlike the typical yoga poser, I meant it. Inspired by my interaction with this man, I taught a yoga class with the question, “Are you better than a crack addict?” Having a character with more lines (or a nicer costume) doesn’t make you a better actor than anyone else–it just gives you more of an opportunity to worry that you will mess up and the world will find out that you are a fraud.
Over thousands of years we have progressed technologically but our consciousness is still that of a child’s. I am just a tool for you to use but I won’t be used to put you into further darkness. If that is what you desire, go on YouTube and watch some videos and be like one of the many haters I see there who spends their time writing nasty comments on how sucky they think people’s videos are. Whatever character choice you want to make is perfect and YOUR choice. But I prefer comedies to dramas.
In the last email I wrote to Chad I thanked him for his teachings. Chad probably took that as sarcasm but it was for real. If you understand that “We are all one” then you see every difficult person as just an aspect of yourself being brought to the light–how can you really get mad at yourself? If you see life as a comedy to be played and enjoyed, you could find laughter in even the heaviest of scenes.
Chad taught me to be careful of an old tendency of mine to put people down who I think are hypocrites. He also reminded me to not take myself, or my writing, too seriously–that while I am playing a character, perhaps at times I forget that the costume I am wearing is really not me. He has also reminded me that humor whose goal is solely to hurt is not funny–but narcissistic–and none of us rises by pushing others down (unless you’re stuck in a well but that really isn’t relevant here.)
Now Chad has a choice to make. He can read through my words, laugh at the nonsense and, like Will in “Good Will Hunting,” face the Truth that resonates and understand that “It’s not your fault”–but it is his responsibility to spread his light. Or he can perceive this piece as a medal of honor to pin onto his costume and become even more enamored with the fiction he has created.
We are all Chad and we all have the same choice to make. This may be the most important choice of your life–but don’t “struggle” for, as a lyric from an “Indigo Girls” song goes:
It’s only life after all.
REFLECTION:
(1) Think of someone who you despise. Are there any aspects of that person that you can find that you admire? (one could conceivably say to Hitler, “I admire your charisma and ability to turn a hard-working populace into a bunch of mindless killers.” or to Donald Trump, “While I don’t particularly care for your hairstyle, I do admire your confidence in your ability to succeed.”)
(2) What is your “dharma,” your life-mission? What did you incarnate to do? Are you spending your time with the focus on keeping moving forward on this path or on Internet porn (unless your dharma involves Internet porn, of course!)
(3) How much time do you spend putting others down versus raising others up? How much time do you spend putting yourself down versus raising yourself up?
MEDITATION:
(1) Focus on all the things that you like about yourself. Imagine yourself living each aspect that you admire about yourself. For instance, if it is “I’m a good leader,” imagine yourself leading a group, whether at work or in the woods. If it is “I’m a supportive friend,” imagine yourself lending your support to a friend. After awhile of jiving on that, imagine the things that are more of a challenge for you. For instance, “I have a short temper” or “I’m inconsiderate of others.” Imagine the expression of these challenges, for instance you losing your cool with someone or you disrespecting another.
Now imagine someone else expressing those same challenges that you face in yourself. Can you see them really as just an aspect of yourself and not as a separate “idiot”? Imagine a situation where another expresses a challenge that you may not think is something with which you are also struggling with. Explore how this characteristic may play out in your own life.
End by imagining the same “idiots” expressing qualities/characteristics that you admire in yourself or not. Can you see that the other, besides being a great flashlight onto your own areas of darkness is also someone who is struggling to move towards the light as well? Thank them for their teachings and wish them peace in their own personal struggles.
AFTERWORDS: I hadn’t heard from Chad since this posting and was actually proud of him, thinking he had done some reflection and learning. Just the other day I received another email from him which included something about rubbing one’s own feces on a wall. I was more disappointed that he didn’t use this piece to pick up any concepts in comical writing than the fact that he didn’t use this piece to grow up.