Archive for December, 2008

God The Rapist

Wednesday, December 24th, 2008

‘Tis the day before Christmas

And Swami X is aglow

Spitting a loogie on your ham

A phlegmy Truth you don’t want to know

 

Let’s review the common fable of Jesus:

Because of Adam and Eve’s “crime,” God the All-Merciful kicks them out of the house and punishes all of their descendants to suffer death and for the female ones to suffer painful periods, just to stick it to those bitches. Later on, God comes down and rapes Mary, for that is what non-consensual sex is called. She gives birth to Jesus, on December 25th, coincidentally the exact same day as several dozen other messianic types in history, a pagan holiday and a day countless scholars have concluded extremely unlikely to have been the date of his dickless birth (by “dickless” I mean no penis was involved in his conception, not that Jesus has no dick.) Because Jesus was born without the involvement of a penis—despite the fact that God said he made man in his own image and, last I checked and the reason I am no longer allowed to use the men’s lockers at my gym, man has a penis—this somehow meant that he was not subject to the curse the All-Loving had bestowed on the entirety of humanity because two individuals ate a fuckin’ apple–which, incidentally, is said only to be a “fruit” in the Bible, the apple being the most common representation of the forbidden fruit in Christian art in France and Germany beginning around the 12th century, while the Byzantine and Italian artists favored the fig. How many Kool-Aide drinking Christians even know this? How many of them think they know what Jesus looks like based on artists’ renditions a thousand years later as well? “Uh Jew, beard…no dick? Oh sorry, you meant he was born without use of a dick. Make the nose smaller? You said he was a Jew! Oh, I see, have to make him appeal to the masses and a big-nosed, yarmuka-wearing Hebe won’t do it.”

It’s a good thing that creationists don’t believe in evolution, otherwise how would they explain the DEVOLUTION of the serpent who spoke perfect “human” somehow just losing that ability over the years? Maybe a talking serpent was brought to the carnivals like that “singing frog” cartoon and all the serpents got together and decided that they would rather remain silent than be exploited in such a manner. Oh, you’re right, ye faithful, this is just too unrealistic.

When Jesus was about twelve, he was preaching and his mother and brothers were embarrassed and apologetic about this [Mark 3:20-35 When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, "He is out of his mind."], seemingly forgetting that a son born without involvement of a penis should be listened to regardless of what he says. But John 7:5 says “For even his own brothers did not believe him,” as it would take at least a thousand years before a dickless birth was given the weight it deserved.

Jesus disappears for eighteen years, from age 12-30, without a single devout Christian seeming to even take notice of this little gap—a longer gap than their recorded gospels have him even around—nor demand the Vatican to release the documents they have stored there which tells exactly what he was doing during his well-earned sabbatical from being a spiritual Doogie Howser at age twelve. They won’t, because studying mystical traditions in the East for 18 years doesn’t seem to fit into the “Dickless Birth, Son of God” perfection myth.

At age 30, Jesus is like, “Hey, I’m back!” He preaches for three years and says some nice things but is best remembered for his starring role in Mel Gibson’s snuff film, “The Passion of the Christ,” for what he taught is less important than what he suffered to erase the sins from everyone who may or may not have ever eaten an apple.

God the rapist was lucky he didn’t create Child Protective Services back then, and courts, and lawyers (why he ever created them is still a mystery—oh wait, Satan created them—I love how easy it is to understand the world according to Christianity!) or he would have been found guilty of child abuse, and I don’t mean in a “Was it a good touch or a bad touch, Jimmy?” sort of way, not to mention of conspiracy to commit murder (“Abraham, take your son Isaac up to the mountain and kill him with a knife. Don’t worry, if I could hide O.J.’s knife I can hide yours.”), arson, the aforementioned rape, cruelty to animals (causing frogs to rain from the sky for his amusement) and countless other mass murders, only one of which involved all the Egyptians who were chasing after the Jews who he drowned in the Reid Sea, as if “The Almighty” couldn’t have instead put up an invisible barrier that couldn’t be penetrated (“Oh, I never thought about that!”) Oh, if only Mary’s hymen was such an invisible barrier, countless other murders and brainwashing wouldn’t have been committed and then washed clean in the name of Christianity.

When Jesus died, the only logical conclusion to be drawn would be that since he didn’t have to die, as only those born a dickful birth have original sin and are thereby sentenced to death, that his death must have been chosen and the reason: to remove all the sins from everyone who just so happened to have descended from two people who ate an apple they were told not to, for as we all know, all of humanity descended from two people, who had two sons and yet talk of incest in the name of propagating the race never seems to appear in any Bible I have ever vandalized.

Nor is mentioned the fact that “sin” in Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, was not something designed to make you guilt-ridden and forever dependent on the church but more accurately translates as “missed the mark,” as in archery. I suppose taking such a beating to help one’s archery game would be considered just plain stupid and instead of “Savior” status, Jesus would have been known as the biggest idiot to have ever lived. Now that’s a book I would read cover to cover and quote to proclaim my expertise in idiocy! (as opposed to quoting and pretending piousity.)

On the third day after he died on the cross, Jesus was resurrected, which may throw a monkey wrench in the logic system of the magnitude of his “chosen” death because if one just resurrects right afterwards,it  doesn’t really seem such a big sacrifice capable of removing everyone’s sin, no? Kind of like calling a suicide bomber “brave” when, as we all know, he is going to be waking up in a Heaven where everything that was considered immoral here, such as having fun, is encouraged there—with the addition of 72 virgins; I would probably believe in a dickless birth more quickly than I would a virgin Moslem girl (don’t worry about me, Salmon Rushdie and I will have plenty of fun in hiding from our respective Jihads.) Funny how all the “devout” Christians looks at the “72 Virgins” story and say, “Ridiculous!” and yet never look at their own fable as anything more than a Tooth Fairy story about which no one has ever come clean and said, “I’m the one who’s been putting the quarters under your pillow, Jimmy—and remember, if anyone asks, it was a good touch and not a bad touch.”

 

I will leave THE STORY ACCORDING TO X above without commentary, as I know you Christians don’t like to question anything and thus have to think for yourselves. The only thing I feel may be lacking is a derogatory statement about Jews. As they read the above and have a laugh at the expense of Christians and Moslems, their smug asses are probably counting all the money they saved this season buying their kids eight small shitty toys and trying to convince them it’s better than the Nintendo Wii that their Christian friend got from Santa. But I want to stay on their good side, as we all know they are all Zionists who control the world and when they finally take over more than just the entertainment industry, I want to drop my trump cards of “72 virgins” and “dickless birth” to keep me in good favor and maybe in control of spinning something more than just a gay dreydel.

Christians, do me one solid: don’t pray for my soul. It’s about as valuable to me as a Voodoo magician sticking pins in a cushion that is somehow supposed to represent me—both ludicrous and worthless. I much rather burn for eternity in Hell than have to beg forgiveness from a rapist God.

 

You clean off the once vibrant but for “tradition” dead pig

And through your anger you cannot appreciate Swami X’s jig

You curse him and wish him to the fiery pits of Hell

Forgetting that your “Savior” wished everyone well

He bows his head, not declaring you wrong or right

He says, “Happy Festivus to all, and to all a good-night.”

 

REFLECTION:

Think about what “stories” you feel the need to defend and even get angry if someone questions them (which only shows your attachments). It could be your savior of choice or what you define as success. How do you feel when someone questions your story? “If you love your country, you’d be willing to die for the flag!”…”I think I’m going to quit my job and just live on the street.” “You’d be a bum—we all have to do something constructive with our lives!” More stories. Only a rapist God would want you to die for a piece of cloth or live a life of misery and guilt based on a story.

 

 

MEDITATION:

Imagine yourself walking your daily path and someone comes up to you and with an angry look on his face says something insulting to a belief or system that you once held dear. Feel your body, like the smooth surface of a lake, completely undisturbed by the insult. As you explore deeper you realize that it is not about you managing to “control” your anger or response, that your calmness is because beneath the surface you are truly quiet and unattached to anything, be it object or concept.

Posted in Religion | 3 Comments »

Harry The Head (Giver): Westerly Pharmacy’s Very Own Hun

Saturday, December 13th, 2008

Most of my money each month goes to paying rent.
Next on the list is food, which consists almost entirely of organic produce.
Third is hookers.

But let’s focus on #2 for now, as I have nothing more to say about rent and no one’s really interesting in hearing about hookers.

I eat mostly raw, except for on family events, when my parents take me to dinner, when it’s free, and the occasional dinner when I want to satisfy that emotional hole in me that I haven’t been fully able to plaster with fresh fruits, vegetables, nuts and seeds.

I might spend $200 a week on food, as I buy almost entirely organic, except for my visits to the Fruit Stand Guy. I also feed my dog a mostly raw vegan diet; this is less about her health and my ethics and more for those rare few people who are still searching for that one issue to piss them off and provide their lives with meaning.

I’m like a pregnant lady, only instead of “eating for two,” I’m shopping for two. Well, I don’t have varicose veins or eat pickles and ice-cream, nor have enlarged breast or emotional fits that I blame on the beauty of the “life-giving process”–but other than that, I am almost exactly like a pregnant lady. Besides being a dude.

I go to The Westerly Pharmacy on 54th & 8th and have been shopping there for almost 15 years. In McDonald’s jargon I would be known as a “heavy hitter,” but while McPuke’s categorize this as someone who eats their poison, animal-tortured products merely once a week (see the documentary “Supersize Me”), I’m a daily consumer–in the eating as well as buying sense of the word–in addition to once or twice a week buying what in grocer’s official jargon would be considered a “shitload.”

One more piece of background data that will be helpful in understanding the upcoming situation at large would be to know that I use inline skates to get myself around everywhere in the city (I will not use the term “rollerblades” which is a company that I have had issue with and may be the subject of my upcoming “Prick of the Week” segment.) Yesterday I had a client 70 blocks downtown and I rolled there. Then I rolled to a yoga studio to pay for the space I am renting for my upcoming workout [http://dec19workshopswamix.eventbrite.com]. Then I rolled to a bookstore where 100% of the money they take in goes towards helping people with HIV and AIDS. If I had AIDS I would definitely appreciate knowing that there was a bookstore out there that cared about supporting me. I would also pray that I discovered my affliction through the help of Peter Griffin of “Family Guy” singing to me the classic cheery barbershop quartet song “You Have AIDS” [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=biG957fCjpU].

Ever since we entered The Litigation Era, people who run or work in a business or building have been terrified to allow anyone with inline skates into their establishment for fear that the the skater will fall down of their own accord and spasticity and then sue the said establishment for happening to be there to break their fall, otherwise known as the “Spill-My-Own-Cup-Of-Hot-Coffee-On-My-Groin-And-Sue-McDonald’s-For-8-Million-Dollars” corollary to the overriding Principle of Idiocy and Lack of Self-Responsibility (P.I.L.S.), from where comes the popular phrase, “I think I’ll just pop some PILS and forget about the discomfort of sitting in my own shit, until I can hold someone else accountable for changing my diaper” (I bet a day hasn’t gone by that you haven’t used that phrase!)

So I am more often than not wearing my skates when I go into The Westerly Market. When they finally put up a sign on the door: “NO DOGS, INLINE SKATES OR BLACK PEOPLE” I was completely offended that in this progressive day and age such discrimination against inline skaters would even be fathomed. As I had been going there for about a decade at the time of the posting of the insult to wheel-enhanced persons, all the workers and managers knew me and knew that I was a good customer, i.e. I spend a lot of bank there and generally refrain from shitting on the spinach, which is more than I can say for Mexican field workers. And so the main floor manager, Mike, told me that I would be grandfathered, in other words, as long as my penis remained flaccid, I could continue to roll down the aisles.

After a couple of years of doing this without incident, Mike, pulled me aside and told me how one of their managers or workers had his foot rolled over by a person on skates in the store and how they were cracking down on skating in the store (apparently I wasn’t the only one with a limp dick.) He said, “Don’t worry, you can continue to wear your rollerblades. Just be careful.” I appreciated him showing me the respect that not only my money but my decade without incident seemed to buy. I didn’t appreciate him using the term “rollerblades,” which only reminded me of the company that lost my expensive Swiss bearings and wouldn’t give me new ones and then I had to–oh wait, I almost let the cat out of the bag.

Speaking of “cats in bags,” why is the cat in the bag in the first place? I don’t think that’s a proper transport vehicle for a cat and I’m sure a few animal rights organizations would take issue with that type of handling of a sentient being. I mean, if it were a gerbil, I suppose a bag would be a welcome relief from being shoved up your ass. But a cat? Inhumane. It’s ridiculous how much wasted time a guy will spend talking about pussy, case in point.

I stopped in for a quick $12 worth of goods and when I was at the register, Harry The Head (Giving) Manager” told me that I could not skate in the store. I told him that I have been a long-time customer and Mike had said it was okay and he said–loudly in front of everyone–“I am the head manager–there is no one above me, and I said no. There is no one else to ask.” It felt a little like the “This is my rifle” credo from “Full Metal Jacket” [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ar0_um--LDQ] and I imagined Ira talking in bed to his “Head-Giving Manager” name tag and having a good wank. I then quickly thought of giraffes and how their necks are really long to immediately replace any thought of Harry The Head-Giver spanking it. Soon I was thinking about how one would go about having sex with a giraffe, whether a harness would be required or if stacking milk crates one on top of the other could get you into proper position and this occupied the rest of my thinking day.

In a calm manner I said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

He responded, “No,” and turned and walked away from me.

Before I get into my commentary, I will finish up my interaction–or non-interaction as it may be–with Harry The Head-Giver, a modern day Hun but nowhere of the quality and caliber of Attila.

I went home and decided to take my dog for a walk and on the way stop into The Westerly for a private talk with Harry The Head-Giver. When I got to Westerly, I told Tashi, a floor manager who has always been pretty good to me, that I would like to speak to Ira The Head-Giver. He walked me to the store phone and called up. He then tried to hand me the phone and I said, “No, no. I want to talk with him in person.” Tashi got back on the phone and after a little conversation that I couldn’t hear but clearly involved reminding Harry The Head-Giver who I was, he told me, “He’s busy.” I said that I could come back later if need be and Tashi went back to talking in the phone. When he hung up he told me, “You can come back tomorrow.”

I was like, “Tomorrow? He can’t come down for five-minutes and talk with me today?” Tashi went on to tell me that he wasn’t usually in today, that this was his day off, which didn’t seem to bolster the “no time to deal with a jackass” argument. I left a little pissed off and did what just about everyone does in a situation like this–I kicked over a display of Whey-2-Go protein powder.

Well maybe not, but what I did do was typical: I voiced some of my distress about being treated with a lack of respect to Tashi, a person who was doing his best, could do nothing more to facilitate the situation, and basically was useless in any way to modify the situation. It is the same way people complain to a salesperson who has no authority to make the exchange or return after the 30-day grace period or mandate a new company-wide rule that only a manager can do. But most people want to be heard and understood and I was no different.

So now for some commentary added to my dry “Just the facts, ma’am” reporting so far. If you are the typical “intellectual” thinker you will say, “Well, it is his store and he has the right to not allow inline skates in the store.” You may go on and add the Exponential Argument: “What would happen if all of a sudden everyone decided to skate in the store? It would be a madhouse!” You would probably conclude your logical jerk-off session with the Extreme Situation Argument (ESA): “If you fell and hurt yourself–or, God forbid, somebody else–they could be sued.” Why God shouldn’t forbid me getting hurt is beyond me. What the person who makes an ESA statement like this is saying is that they don’t care who gets hurt, just as long as no legal situation ensues.

The Extreme Situation Argument is the same one that is used to justify torturing prisoners by our government and used in shows like “24″ to brainwash the viewer that, “Well, maybe torture really isn’t that bad,” with scenarios such as: A nuclear bomb is about to go off and kill 10,000 Americans. You have in custody the mastermind behind the plot–and he’s not talking. What do you do? WHAT do you do?

First of all, the situation is completely unrealistic. You are essentially creating an: “If a Snarklefoo came to our planet and was going to eat everyone unless you gave him your son, what would you do? WHAT would you do?” and we all know that Snarklefoos don’t eat boys–only priests do that. This is a situation that would never happen and is used solely to break all ties to any ethics you hold dear.

Secondly, which no one ever seems to assess, is who is to say that the torture will actually get you the information you want? It may work on “24″ because that is designed to have you respond to headlines in the papers like, “American Citizen Rectally Tortured With A Nightstick And Battery Acid Confesses That He Snuck Into The Movie Theater Without Buying A Ticket” with, “Fuck him, if he is going to be involved with going to the movies he deserves whatever he gets!” But in “real world” situations it has been proven that torture will have the subject of the torture say anything–true or false–just to stop being tortured. One of our “terrorist masterminds” in custody admitted to crimes that were committed before he was born. He was like, “And I, uh, single-handedly killed JFK and, uh, I shot Lincoln–will you take the electrodes off my balls now?” Of course our government just ignored those obvious untruths as false and accepted the untruths that served them as true. “He said he was involved with 9/11–that confession is good enough for me!”

A quick aside to point out that “Maverass” McCain’s bill that was put out in the mainstream media as a defeat to the Bush torture proposals gave Bush and his sickos everything they wanted and more. It is amazing how a headline in the press can leave all the sheep who were taught in school to read but, “Only the words in bold print matter, Jimmy,” to believe anything they read without doing their own critical thinking.

My Dad clipped an article from a big paper that had a headline like “Vitamin C And Vitamin E Proven Useless For Cancer” and when I looked at the doses it was 500mg for Vitamin C and 400 I.U. for Vitamin E–the same amount that is in your multi-vitamin. That is essentially expecting that a cancer patient can just go home and take a multi-vitamin and beat cancer. It won’t. Although just going home from the “poison, slash and burn” politics of the hospital would probably be a step in the right direction.

I need to take another step to the side for a moment but I promise you, this one is related and not yet another one of my “Family Guy” tangents that have no relevance to anything but humor. I have a Post Box (not as in the cereal but as in the Post Office) and go to the Post Office most days to check it and when I do, more often than not, I have my inline skates on my feet. It usually takes me only 30 seconds to buzz in and out and I had been doing this for about two years seemingly unnoticed before I started getting hassled by the workers. I talked to the manager, Ms. Emerson, and told her, “Look, I understand this is the age where everyone sues everyone over nothing, but in the fiber of my ethical being is a commitment to hold myself accountable for my own actions. If I fell down in your Post Office, I would never sue anyone. I could put this in writing for you if that would make you feel more at ease.” 

Surprising, because the Union of Managers requires every manager in every line of business to take the No Exceptions Kool-Aid before going to their post, Ms. Emerson was receptive. She said, “Write me a letter.” When I came back the next day with my letter, she looked it over and said, “Okay. This is fine for me.” I attribute her response in part because I am a Master Wordsmith and also because she is not a brainless fear-monger. I thanked her and added, to combat the “What if everyone starts skating?” extrapolation, because they saw me and were like, “I never thought to skate in the Post Office before but seeing that chap–I think I will put mine on the next time I’m here!”, that if she saw it became a problem we could further discuss this. Well, it’s been about a year since and no accidents, no problems and no more hassles from the workers. 

Then there’s the people who will say, “Yes, but you have been lucky. An accident could happen at any time!” No, it can’t. This is the same panic-logic that would have you walking down the street with a football helmet on your head for fear that an air-conditioner may fall out of someone’s apartment and brain you. This is the same ill-logic that makes laws to “prevent” something from “potentially” happening, known as “thought-crimes” in Orwellian language, rather than keeping the law the way it is and punishing the people who break the law.

I once was filming an animal rights demonstration where the group was put around the corner from the event–total bullshit. I asked the cop, “Don’t they have the Constitutional right to assemble near the entrance of the event–as long as they don’t block the door or harass anyone?” He spoke in S.S.-speak that they didn’t want anyone to throw red paint on anyone. I was like, “First of all, that tactic hasn’t been used in about a decade. Secondly, if someone throws red paint on someone then arrest them–they have violated the law. But you can’t prevent someone from expressing their Constitutionally-protected rights because you  ’fear’ that something ‘may’ happen.” Needless to say, he didn’t understand the big words I used, like “Constitutional” and the head of the animal rights group, Santos, was too much of a pussy to exert his own rights. From his nice dress and his constant pirouettes, I don’t think Santos would have minded if he was falsely arrested and sodomized in his jail cell either.

Back to the Westerly…I want to make this clear to you because it annoys me to no end when people argue with me and what they are arguing is not in disagreement with what I have necessarily said. Despite me thinking all the worst-case scenarios would never happen, I do agree that Harry The Head-Giver has the right to make the rules with his establishment. That is one of the fountainheads of Libertarianism, that people have the right to do whatever the heck they want to in their own establishments, be it business or home and which I agree with for the most part. My issue is that I was disrespected when he turned and walked away from me as if he had just said, “Talk to the hand.”

Now many would argue that being a high-roller and spending a lot of money there should garner me some respect. I disagree. I think one should be given respect whether they spend $200 a week or whether they just came in to get out of the cold. This is typical of our dysfunctional society, that we only show respect to someone when it benefits us.

So what to do now? I could go to the Whole Foods in the Time-Warner Building not too far away in Columbus Circle. That would require me to go into Satan’s Corporate Office and contribute money to a chain that is Walmarting mom and pop stores out of business across the country. I have a personal rule to only  support corporations if they employ a ton of Chinese sweatshop workers (they are carted in by trucks and measured by the ton, minus the hand and ankle chains of course), as I have a theory that this may lead to less Chinese girl babies being thrown in the dumpster there like the disposal of male chicks are discarded in bins outside the egg factories here. With all their “Fair-Trade” products, I’m not sure Whole Foods qualifies. I think I heard that their “environmentally-friendly” decision to use paper bags wasted more jet fuel than the local plastic bags because they imported them cheaply from overseas. This might sway me to shop there, as it will provide more of an opportunity for Al Gorey to promote his global warming lie based on made-up science, in between leading the hunt for the mythical animal Manbearpig (”South Park.”)

The other problem with Whole Foods is that the the Time-Warner Satanic Lair is located in a somewhat crowded area and the Whole Foods is downstairs in Satan’s Corporate Office. At Westerly I tie my dog to the pay phones right outside (people other than drug dealers still use those?) and can check on her easily if my shopping spree is getting ridiculous. At Westerly she would be out of sight in too busy an area and I would probably come back to find her being tongue-kissed by a rickshaw driver (this is another story for a future piece!) I moped around for awhile feeling beaten. “Well played, Harry The Head-Giver! Well played.”

That evening, I was walking my dog in the park when the solution came to me like a lightning bolt, only not with any light or shock or soiling of my pants–oh wait, there was a little minor soiling but that was because I thought it was just a fart: I would continue to go to The Westerly–with my inline skates!”

“Wait a second,” you say, “I thought we went through this. He said you can’t do that.” Ah, and that is the brilliance of my plan, HOO-HOO-HA-HA! What will probably happen is when Harry The Head-Giver is out giving someone head, no one will really bother me; business as usual. Perhaps the rare worker will say, “You can’t skate in here,” in which case I will reply, “I already talked to Harry The Head-Giver about this,” which will be a truth, as I don’t like to lie, but one that is twisted enough to make George Washington say, “Dude, I would have lied about the fuckin’ cherry tree if my dad didn’t catch me with the damn axe in my hand but that’s pushing it!”,  and would require that my interrogator is one of the “bold headline readers” and won’t probe more.

Eventually Harry The Head-Giver will see me with the skates and will say, “I told you that you can’t wear those in here!” I will ignore him and continue to shop. Harry The Head-Giver, being limited in all capacities besides being able to suck the chrome off a tailpipe, will either raise his voice or touch me. If he raises his voice I will say, “Harry The Head-Giver, you seem upset. Do you not like when people don’t show you the respect to turn and listen to what you have to say?” If he touches me I will say calmly, “Since you’re so worried about legalities, what you just did is assault. Do you want me to touch me again and force me to sue you?”

I will finish up my food-gathering and proceed to the cashier. Harry The Head-Giver will be livid and probably won’t wait until I get to the counter to announce in a loud voice in front of everyone, “DO NOT TAKE CARE OF THIS CUSTOMER. HE IS NOT ALOUD TO SHOP HERE,” or something equally dramatic. I will continue to wait in line, where Harry The Head-Giver will either try to reason with me (”Look, if you just take off the skates…”) or, more likely, will start to threaten me, “If you don’t leave right now I will call the cops.” When I get to the cashier Harry The Head-Giver will tell the cashier firmly that he is not to take my money. The cashier will look helplessly at me and I will then go into my, equally loud, speech.

“THIS IS HARRY, THE HEAD-GIVING MANAGER OF THE STORE. THE OTHER DAY, JUST LIKE TODAY, RATHER THAN PULLING ME ASIDE AND ASKING TO SPEAK TO ME IN PRIVATE, A COURTESY THAT YOU WOULD THINK WOULD BE EXTENDED TO SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN SHOPPING HERE FOR 15-YEARS, COMES IN EVERY DAY AND SPENDS ABOUT $200 A WEEK, HE CHOSE TO SPEAK LOUDLY IN FRONT OF EVERYONE WHO WAS PRESENT, SOMETHING THAT HE SHOULD HAVE SAID TO ME ALONE. I ASKED HIM THEN IF I COULD SPEAK TO HIM ABOUT SOMETHING AND HE TURNED HIS BACK ON ME AND WALKED AWAY.

“EVERY CASHIER I HAVE DEALT WITH HERE HAS TREATED ME WITH MORE RESPECT THAN THIS SUPPOSED ‘HEAD’-GIVING MANAGER, SOMEONE WHO RATHER THAN TAKING MY $100 WOULD CHOOSE TO CAUSE A SCENE AND TRY TO EMBARRASS ME IN THE PROCESS. WELL IF YOU WANT A SCENE, I’LL GIVE YOU A SCENE! YOU HAVE ILLUSTRATED THAT IT DOESN’T REQUIRE ANY SOCIAL SKILLS OR BUSINESS SENSE TO BECOME THE HEAD-GIVING HONCHO.

“WELL, I’M NOT RESPECTING HIM FOR HIS POSITION AND I WON’T LISTEN TO WHAT HE HAS TO SAY UNLESS HE TALKS TO ME WITH THE RESPECT THAT EVERY HUMAN DESERVES–REGARDLESS OF HOW MUCH HE SPENDS IN THE STORE. WHEN HAVE WE AS A SOCIETY STOPPED DEMANDING MORE FROM OUR GOVERNMENT, OUR BOSSES, OUR FAMILY. THIS IS NOT ABOUT PETTY NONSENSE, IT IS ABOUT NOT ALLOWING THE GOVERNMENT TO VIOLATE THE CONSTITUTION OR GIVE OUR HARD-EARNED MONEY TO PEOPLE COMING IN ON PRIVATE JETS AND LIMOS AND THEN LATER FINDING OUT THAT HALF THE MONEY DISAPPEARED WITH NO ACCOUNTABILITY. IT IS ABOUT COMING HOME AND THE HUSBAND OR WIFE IS TOO BUSY CHECKING EMAILS OR WATCHING HIS OR HER SIT-COM TO DROP EVERYTHING AND REMEMBER THAT YOU GOT MARRIED OUT OF LOVE, NOT OUT OF BECOMING ONE MORE COG IN THE MACHINE. AND IT IS ABOUT NOT ONLY EXPECTING BUT DEMANDING THE RESPECT WE DESERVE.

“YOU REMEMBER THE MOVIE ‘NETWORK’ WHERE THE NEWS REPORTER TOLD EVERYONE TO GO TO THEIR WINDOWS AND SHOUT, “I’M MAD AS HELL AND I’M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!” WELL WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO SAY ENOUGH IS ENOUGH? HAVE WE GOTTEN SO CAUGHT UP IN THE ‘ROUTINE’ OF LIFE THAT WE HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE WITH RESPECT AND HOW TO INSIST UPON RECEIVING RESPECT IN RETURN?

“I WISH I WERE NOT ALONE. I WISH YOU COULD HEAR MY VOICE AS SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT TO SPEND FIVE-MINUTES LISTENING TO THAN GETTING YOUR ORDER DONE AND RUNNING HOME TO YOUR SIT-COM. I’M DONE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION. GO BACK TO SLEEP IF THAT IS WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD. I REFUSE TO. GOOD DAY.”

If by this time I am not being led off in handcuffs, I will leave. Maybe I will dramatically say to the cashier, “NOW TAKE MY MONEY FOR THESE GROCERIES.” If I were writing a movie (besides the one about the man who spends his whole life trying to figure out how to fuck a giraffe), I would have the cashier look over to Harry The Head-Giver. Harry The Head-Giver would give him a slight nod of approval and then the cashier would start to check out my groceries. All the customers would start to clap and cheer and even Harry The Head-Giver would smile, not feeling defeated, but a key player who without which this drama could never have taken place. I would pay and start to ROLL out with my several bags. Harry The Head-Giver would get the door for me and as I rolled through I would pause, look him in the eyes, and say, “Thank you,” and we’d share a small smile, the best two men could do other than the hug that we really wanted to give the other but my hands are full with groceries and he wouldn’t want to break the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” store policy of homosexuality. And besides, Brokeback Mountain ruined any potential gay chance I had for writing in a make-out scene with Harry The Head-Giver right there and then because every producer I would shop my script to would say, “It’s been done already. Brokeback Mountain.”

The sad thing is, I will probably have to fend through shouts of, “Shut up!” and “Why don’t you just leave?” because people are too busy sleepwalking to enjoy a good piece of drama. Seriously, most wouldn’t realize that this little drama would provide them with a story to share with their family and co-workers, something besides, “Another long day at the office, dear” or “Did you see the Knick game last night?”

Another possibility to voice my disapproval is to print out copies of this piece and hand it out to the workers and spend my free time outside of The Westerly handing out copies to people who go in and out of the store, perhaps with some discount coupons from Whole Foods. The workers would probably snicker every time Harry The Head-Giver would pass by and soon muscular gay men from the nearby Gold’s Gym would approach Harry The Head-Giver and say, “I’m looking for a special supplement, if you know what I mean.”

Ah, the tough choices in life: Satan’s Corporate Office or Harry The Head-Giver’s Brothel. It’s been a week and I haven’t spent a dime at The Westerly. Perhaps this is the time for me to commit to becoming a breatharian and living on light instead of food, not in the noble pursuit of ultimate bliss and enlightenment but just to give a big fuck you to Harry The Head-Giver and our corporate controllers.

REFLECTION:

What situations do you find yourself in, whether in work or relationship or socializing or dealing with Head-Givers, where you feel you are not being treated with the respect you deserve? Why do you put up with it? Is it fear (”I’ll lose my job, “My wife will yell at me.”) Is it lethargy (”Things are good enough. I really shouldn’t complain.”) Stop being a pussy and demand the respect you deserve! This doesn’t mean becoming a bitch who complains about nonsense (”These napkins were stacked print-side down–this is an outrage!”) Pick and choose your battles. Leave the nonsensical ones to me :) .

MEDITATION:

Contrary to popular belief, a “meditation” doesn’t just mean to close your eyes and think of beautiful white clouds. This one is an active one. Whenever you feel disrespected by someone, in a CALM voice tell them how their actions made you feel and what you need from them. Don’t say it to judge them wrong and bad, say it because you respect yourself.

Instead of sharing with everyone how their actions are not giving you what you need, which without a lot of work to break your own conditioning in violent communication will probably come out as judgment, write down what you will and won’t accept and start to drop the people from your life that don’t provide you with what you need. Rather than yelling at your disrespectful friend, “Every time I invite you out on a Friday you agree and then end up blowing me off!” instead just stop inviting her out. Rather than finally getting through to a “friend” you have called a dozen time without him returning your call and saying (for the upteenth time), “What the hell is your problem? How come you never call me back!”, accept that this person is not willing to modify his Respect Deficiency Disorder (RDD) and stop calling him.

You will find that most of the people you drop won’t be missed–they didn’t return your damn calls anyway. For those who you really value in your life, do your best to communicate with them non-violently about how you are feeling and what you need and ask them if there is anything that you need to do to help them provide you with what you need. Some of these people will become defensive and say, “You’re always blaming me!” Stay calm and make it more about what YOU need and are not getting and not what THEY are doing. Others will say they will work on what you requested and will not and the decision will have to be made again whether to share with them, again, how you are feeling and what you need…or to cut them loose. It won’t be easy, my beloved journeyers, but it will be necessary if you are to reclaim your wholeness.

Posted in Casual Encounters | Comments Off

Swami X Endorses Barack Obama For President

Monday, December 8th, 2008

After receiving commentary on my last piece entitled, “Swami X Endorses John McCain For President,” it became painfully clear to me that many people read my pieces like they live their lives–with a quick glance at the title and then fake their way through the rest. It was almost as if I wrote a piece entitled, “I Hate Black People” where the whole piece was about how much I love and respect people of all colors and anyone who says such ignorant statements as “I Hate Black People” is an idiot, and then having Al Sharpton arrange a protest on my street corner with hundreds of black and white cookies yelling what a piece of racist shit I am. (Speaking of the black and white cookie, to me it is not a representation of perfect harmony among the races, as others have proposed, but a statement of, “We’re cool as long as you stay on your side of the line!” In my mind, hardly the poster cookie for racial harmony–more accurately racial co-existence; not “We are all One cookie,” but “We are all ON one cookie, so let’s just deal with it.”)

So, to be clear to all my “read the title and skim maybe a paragraph or two at most” posse: no, I have not “changed” my endorsement post-election from the “maverick” to the “black guy.” No, I have not pulled the psychic lie of denying my last incorrect psychic prediction and still claiming I have a 98% accuracy rating (but enough about Jill Dahne, whose stock “must buy” prediction with specific date to sell cost me over $2000 and whose love prediction date for me which came and passed and had my head going into a swirl every time I met a girl with “the name,” wondering “Is she my soulmate?” But don’t worry, her 98% accuracy rating hasn’t changed since 1952; apparently the same accountant who gave John McCain the numbers that had him telling the American people that our economy was sound has a sideline business as a psychic’s number man. (Not sure if this is better than a psychic who I know and think is one of the few good psychics, whose inaccurate Presidential prediction blog entry–giving one of two choices both of which didn’t come true–suddenly disappeared from her website.) And NO, the title of this piece is not meant to be taken seriously.

Rule #1 of writing is not to insult your readership. I think the person who made this rule was the same person who said, “There are no stupid questions.” That prick must have come from the caveman era when the only questions asked were, “We go hunt?” and after a fresh kill, “We fuck it first?”, both reasonable questions for the time.

I have heard plenty of indisputably stupid questions and many of my readers are so moronic that to not say so would be to deny the yogic principle of satya, truth. Every time I start to have faith that someone may “get it,” a complete moron like Chad comes along [see "Mein Kampf"] and makes me consider the “cup half-full” aspect of total nuclear annihilation of the human race–at least the I.Q. on the planet would bump up a few points.

I just want to be clear, because if I hear one of you rocket scientists say, “Yeah, Swami X first endorsed McCain for President but then switched his endorsement–after the election–to Obama,” unlike Jesus, I’m not going to hang on the cross and say, “Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do,” I’m going to have my last recorded words be: ”Let one thing be clear and do not allow any pedophiles to misinterpret these words of mine through the ages: You are all idiots and I don’t forgive you for this. I’m hanging from a cross, for God’s sake!”

I thought Hillary Clinton was a shoe-in for the Presidency. I heard from psychic sources and from sources who claimed that “insiders” had told them that she was already meeting in the White House and getting briefed on “carrying the ball” on the next play. I also heard she attended the last Bilderberg meeting, which usually means that you not only have sex with young male prostitutes–whether you’re male or female–but you also get whatever you desire, in the case of Hillary, human hearts and goblets of blood. 

When Hillary didn’t get the bid, I had egg on my face and even being vegan, I didn’t wipe it off and pretend I was eggless. Whether due to a change in strategy at the New World Order Scum (NWOS) board meeting, the powerful overwhelming influence of emotional rhetoric on the American people, or that this was just totally off period–it didn’t happen.

 

Before we get back to the election, let’s first get some background on a practice that has been used behind the scenes in the political arena forever. It is called: PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION

Let’s use a couple of salesmen examples first:

PROBLEM: “Hello, my friend. That’s a beautiful tie. You are probably pretty frustrated by the fact that gasoline is costing you so much?

REACTION: “Yeah, homey, that’s some fucked-up shit.”

SOLUTION: “If you buy these special new tires from me, it will increase your car’s gas mileage and you will in effect save money at the pump.”

                                                        ——————————–

PROBLEM: “You’ve been working out for years and haven’t lost any of that weight, huh?

REACTION: “Yeah, homey, that’s some fucked-up shit.”

SOLUTION: “If you buy this personal training package and supplements from me, it will increase your body’s metabolism and you will in effect lose weight.”

                                                        ——————————–

Let’s take a look at an example from the world political arena:

PROBLEM: Hitler bombs the Reichstag and blames it on his enemies.

REACTION: The people are up in arms. They are both scared that they are vulnerable and angry at the fabricated enemies who did this.

SOLUTION: Hitler make’s a bunch of laws that took away individual’s civil liberties in exchange for safety and protection. He could now also invade anyone he wanted without question.

                                                        ——————————–

Now an example from the American stage:

PROBLEM: On 9/11 Islamo-fascists hijacked and flew planes into The World Trade Center and Pentagon, killing over 3,000 innocent people.

REACTION: Americans are shocked, scared and angry.

SOLUTION: The “Patriot” Act passes, taking away individual’s civil liberties in order to, by some twisted trick of logic, “protect” individual’s civil liberties. We also go to war with Afghanistan and Iraq, Iraq having nothing to do with 9/11 (nor Afghanistan, really) but “in order to protect America” the new policy is pre-emptive attacks on countries that may pose a threat to us, even if they, uh, don’t.

 

I look at the election as a stage play. I don’t know what Act I entailed as I had a bad case of the runs and was in the crapper during the whole act. Act II was “The stupid President that ruined the economy and got us into wars and everyone hating us.” Act III is “The messianic President replaces him and we are all saved.” I read the play before paying my overpriced ticket (but skimmed through Act I, as it was really rather dry reading) and so when Act II came along and everyone was going,“He’s the worst President ever!” I was like, “Don’t get mad at the actor, you’ll feel better after Act III.”

As any decent psychic will tell you–if you can even find one–the future is not written in stone and free-will can change everything and “Free Willy” is a good movie. As any decent person will tell you, no one has the whole truth and anyone who says they do is full of shit. My sources and myself were wrong before and I could be wrong again. But here is one thing I will ALMOST guarantee you will see in the future, according to the PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION formula and also based on some of the sources that I have read:

Already occurred:

PROBLEM: The economy is down the shitter and everyone is tired of wars.

REACTION: Americans have lost faith in their leadership.

SOLUTION: We will be offered someone with a “new” outlook who can inspire people with his words and charm (was anyone really “inspired” by the “charisma” of John McCain?) We will turn up the heat so that we can play some more of the PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION game. Oh, how fun!

                                                        ——————————–

Economic PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION:

PROBLEM: The economy goes down the shitter, due to either more Federal Reserve Private banker manipulation, a money system that has inflation built in to the game, or perhaps world economies, like Russia and China, dropping the dollar as their trading standard, or a combination of these.

REACTION: Just about all Americans are effected. A lot of Americans seriously suffer and lose their jobs, homes, lives. Other countries will also have economic distress.

SOLUTION: Very few individual’s will oppose the government taking immediate control over certain industries. Perhaps martial law will be instilled, “temporarily,” to “protect” from looting and other chaos. A move towards socialist programs to protect those in need in our country and world governing bodies to regulate certain industries, such as financial and environmental, to “protect” not only American interests but world interests. 

                                                       ——————————–

Terrorism and Civil Liberties PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION:

PROBLEM: A false flag operation bigger than the last big false flag operation, 9/11, will occur on U.S. soil.

REACTION: Panic will ensue.

SOLUTION: Temporary martial law will be enforced, at least in the location(s) where the terrorist action(s) occurred. We will “react” by bombing the country where the so-called “terrorists” came from, perhaps Iran. More power will be put into a world regulating body to “protect” not only Americans but the world from the “scourge” of terrorism, whether in the form of a new body or, more likely, an “old” one, like the U.N., will get broader regulating powers.

 

IN SUMMARY: An economic and/or “terrorist” action will cause people to forget about campaign promises, the environment and even the most important issue–gay marriage–and focus on their fears of survival. Temporary stricter actions will be instilled, such as martial law and the government taking over industries, but the overall picture will be that poster boy Obama, with as much charm as Bill Clinton without the Wandering Dick Syndrome (WDS), will start to push Global Governance, the “New World Order” that has been talked about for decades by the elite, and even written about in their own books, but ignored by the hypnotized masses.

This will translate into new world regulatory organizations being created or, more likely, existing ones, like the United Nations and the World Bank, to be given more power, in order to “protect the world economy” (we saw what happened when America’s stock market crashed) the world from “terrorists,” and the destruction of the environment by carbon taxes and other micromanaging regulations of the people’s personal lives. The bodies and regulations will really be about relinquishing control from the people to the NWOS. 

The manipulators will probably lighten up on some of the stranglehold on the economy and even violence seen around the world, making everyone feel like the programs–which basically involve socialistic programs and world regulatory bodies that relinquish American Sovereignty–are the cause for them feeling better off economically and safer from the boogey man. 

The sad thing is, coming from a “consciousness” perspective, the American people will look upon these world regulatory bodies not as a loss of sovereignty for America and her Citizens but as a savior. The sheep will walk themselves to the slaughter.

REFLECTION:

Reflect over just about any situation you have ever been in that required more than one party and a decision to be made. Notice how PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION almost always is the outline. PROBLEM-REACTION-SOLUTION is part of just about every manipulative situation you can think of. Perhaps it is your girlfriend feeling you don’t care about her enough regarding her decision to highlight her hair or not (PROBLEM.) Your reaction that you are going out with the boys to play poker and she can do whatever the fuck she wants with her hair didn’t exactly go over too smoothly. Her REACTION is to bitch and moan and say you’ll never see her boobs again. Your REACTION is feeling irritated and wanting to belt her one but thinking, “I really want to see those boobs again.” The SOLUTION is that you blow off your friends, a poker game you arranged a month ahead of time, to spend the night discussing the pros and cons of hair highlights in your whining, stupid girlfriend who does have a nice pair of boobs.

Like the Hillary prediction, I pray I am wrong. As I said, I can almost guarantee on this one that either the economy will seriously crash worse than it has, a “terrorist” action will occur (Joe Biden, Madeline Albright and other big politicians have guaranteed this already) or both and the SOLUTIONS will be more Federal control, International body control or both.

MEDITATION:

Think about those beautiful boobs of the whining, stupid girlfriend in the above example. Mmm…nice. I don’t know about you, but I sure feel a heck of a lot better.

[NOTE: I had worked on this piece almost a month ago and it sat idly, as I have been working on other writing projects of mine. Since that time, I have read news reports about talks of a global economic body to "regulate" money. I have heard about Bush signing all these last-minute laws to screw with the environment (Act II) which will most probably result in our prophet Obama, peace be upon him, to come in to save the day with socialistic environmental controls that extend outside of our country in order to "protect" our environment but really in order to take control out of the individual, out of the country, and into the hands of the NWOS controllers.]

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