daily scratchpad

(5)

Not one trick-or-treater (thump) arrived tonight. This leaves Kootch and me with a bunch of candy which we will no doubt dispose of in due time. Yez...

I recently bought Flight Simulator X (ten). So far I am not impressed. Firstly, it took the better part of an hour to install it. Then I had to download the latest drivers (very scary if you are as paranoid as I am).

I chose, as my first flight, the Boeing 737-800. Barf! What a piece of shit! The outside depiction was junk. The inside depiction (the cockpit) was also junk. In fact, those pathetic folks who created both the cockpit view and the external view seemed to have forgotten that the major difference between the 'virtual' cockpit and the 'actual' cockpit was essentially characturistic: the fucking idiots actually attempted to make them similar! Thumbs down on the heads of the Design Team: you idiots should be fucking fired! Shame on you!

The screen shots during installation were impressive, suggesting that FSX has a huge amount of global detail. If so, that is good news.

Those same screen shots suggested that there is a huge amount of detail in the the 'minor' airplanes. We shall see. My advice at this point is that you should not waste your good money on this latest fiasco from Microsoft. But stay tuned... I might change my mind.

(4)

I like the idea of six word stories so much that I am minded to create (thump) a few. It strikes me (before I begin) that such 'stories' are a 'psychoanalyst's dream,' of course. But I have very little to hide. Hmmm...

Totally appalled by my fellow man.
Valuable drugs teach modern brains succinctly.
All the world wants to know.
God lost His voice long ago.
Scrotal RF now has my attention. (tap)
True Jews are always Old Jews.
There are no True New Jews.
Religious indoctrination is like child abuse.
Religion is Mankind's most dangerous enemy.
Science is Mankind's most valued friend.
Science and Religion are explosive mixtures.

And I could go on and on but you get the idea.

Labels: drugs, God, Jews

(2)

Tonight is Halloween, of course. It is now 1920 Local and no (tap) Goblins yet. Kootch bought a bunch of candy, which remains mostly unmolested. It is a quiet night, perfect for blog stuff. I've looked through our pictures for Halloween themes and found one: Jenny the Frog. Unfortunately I am now unable to publish it here for some unknown reason. Maybe later.

Before I get too drunk I should probably visit a theme from a recent entry on one of my favorite blogs: that of the 'story in six words.' Can you write a story in six words? Sorta. I came up with the following SWS: 'Dialed God's telephone number. Nobody answered.' What a story!

The reader is immediately interested in possible details: What is the number?! Do you need a special telephone? Can I dial too? What if God doesn't answer? What could it mean?

The theme reminds me of the 'Zen Koan.'

Somewhat related is the 'religious joke.' My favorite religious joke is from Mulla Nasrudin (as told by Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh in The Mustard Seed):

'Mulla Nasruddin was sitting with a friend. His wife came and the friend said, "I suppose this is your most charming wife!" Mulla Nasruddin looked sadly and said, "This is my only wife!"

I commiserate with the mulla.

Labels: halloween, joke, Rajneesh, religion, zen

(1)

Here's an interesting look at the current positions of 900 satellites now in orbit. This zoomable view shows both the geo-synchronous and the low Earth orbit varieties. You can zoom in and out to get more of a perspective; you can also change the position update rate. I like the 1 second and the 5 second rates best. The position and orbital path of the HST (Hubble Space Telescope) is a plus feature.

Speaking of Hubble, NASA announced today that there will be a mission to refurbish the HST some time in 2008. Great news for science!

Time for a visit to (tap) Enough... See you there.

Labels: Hubble, space

(3)

Scarborough Country (MSNBC) has a debate going on now concerning Rash Limbo and his recent criticism of Michael J Fox's recent speech in favor of stem cell research. Too bad I'm gonna miss it.

(Just after I wrote that, Blogger went belly-up and I was unable to log back on 'til now (2122). I spent the time kicking ass on the Comcast chess net while drinking beer. The very last player turned out to be (tap) pretty good compared to the others, but proved to be no match for me. During the game I got the impression that I had White against none other than Walter Gerash, Hopeless (tap) Stalker. This dude played Gerash's favorite defense against e4...)

(Blogger went belly-up again just after I wrote that and so I created another account at Journalspace.com.)

Anyway, concerning the last game, (tap) the first few moves were, 1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nf6 (The Petroff Defense). As the game progressed I could see that although the second player knew the opening somewhat better than I did, he faded as we entered the middle game. He blundered (tap) several times in the late middle game and resigned after losing his last piece, a rook. It was a typical encounter with Gerash. I am certain it was Gerash. I think Gerash was hoping to take advantage of my booze-clouded brain. If so (tap), no joy.

Interestingly, this encounter presented me with yet another insight into Gerash's crippled mind: the Petroff Defense is Russian in the sense that Gerash's (tap) 'heritage' is Russian. But Gerash is also Jewish. Which aspect of Gerash's complex heritage bothers him the most?

All the world wants to know.

Labels: chess, stalker

(2)

Needless to say, my opinion of 'the criminal justice system,' and the people in it, went way downhill as a result. Subsequent events over many years only served to reinforce that low opinion.

I no longer see the option, 'switch your blog now' when I sign in to Blogger. Hmm... So, for the moment, I have at least one blog too many. I'm thinking of using it to publish my pictures of 'lightening-struck trees.' (A 'dialog with Jews'!? What was I thinking? Yeeesh. I already have a 'dialog with Jews' (no thump this time). One too many!)

By the way, this is the season when weather tends to strongly influence my 'drunk nights.' Tomorrow the forecast for Denver is snow. So I'm either one day late or two days early. The weekend looks nice...

Been playing a lot of chess online lately (at Comcast). I like the idea of playing as a 'guest' better than the idea of playing as a 'Comcast' user. The annonymity of a 1200 rating allows more flexibility: you can bushwhack high rated players now and then but you can also have fun with novices from the point of view of 'teacher' without seeming to pick on low rated players. My shortest game so far was with somebody named, 'princess.' She was White: 1. b3 e5 2. b4 d5 3. b5 Bc5 4. b6 Bb6 5. Bb2 Qf6 6. Na3 Bf2 mate. I thought that mating her with the bishop instead of with the queen was both heterosexual and economical. No doubt those considerations were lost on her at the time... By the way, the shortest possible chess game (unless the opponent resigns before making a first move) is: 1. e4 g5 2. d4 f6 3. Qh5 mate.

(1)

Rereading last friday's posts I see that one or two slight corrections need to be made. First, the name of the telescope manufacturer was 'Cave Optical,' not 'Astrola.' Astrola was the brand name.

And I remember telling the judge at trial that one of my targets was the telephone company 'connection box' (?) in my back yard. I put a few dents in it. Didn't we all despise 'Ma Bell' back in those days? (With good reason, it turned out.) I even put a few dents in my own mailbox... But I did not shoot those windows. The cop took me to the site of the damage: several windows with typical BB damage. I denied doing it. He 'didn't believe me.'

So what really happened? I suspect that I was 'framed:' Some unknown person shot those windows (per Gerash). The cop, seeing me in the vicinity with a BB gun made the (obvious) connection to me. Question: did the cop then innocently jump to conclusions, charge me with a crime, then innocently lie under oath in order to get me the help I needed (in the form of a large fine and larger lawyer fee) to deter me from a path of crime?

Not bloody fucking likely. I think the son of a bitch was in on it from the beginning and was well paid for his work. I further think that, in the interests of 'economy,' he was also the one who did the damage to the windows. But I could be wrong about that, of course. He may not have been so totally culpable. He might have only been a goddamned liar.

Labels: Cops

(7)

I see that Blogger is offering a new version (boom) and you only need to click on the words, 'Switch your blog today.' I am very tempted to switch. I love the idea that Blogger has significantly improved this singular public service. I will eventually switch, no doubt about that.
But my current inclination is to test the idea with a new, disposable, blog. Is this not madness?

Not!

Maybe I can come up with a blog which allows folks to comment (tap) on the other blogs. Sounds like a good idea to me. I'll think about it. For example, some of you Jews out there might be infuriated (tap) by my ideas: you want to hit me back. Such a blog would allow you to do so (if I can manage it properly). I have no objection to engaging in (tap) a dialog with Jews. In fact, such a dialog would be a 'sea change.' A welcome change...

But this is all speculation... We shall see...

(6)

You are shocked, of course, by my 'rhetoric,' as well you should be. (A slight touch (tap) of LLG here.) But what did you expect? Contrition? Nofuckingwayhofuckingzay. My last name is not 'Gibson.' This is war.

But this brings us to the question of why Jews would attack a solitary Irishman. Why? In my case, I suppose they (Gerash and friends) saw me as vulnerable: family far away; spouse's family not only far away but living in a different country. We were alone and vulnerable: a stalker's dream.

But what about Jews in general: what is it about Jews (American Jews in particular) that makes them so aggressive (tap)? I have studied this question for many years. I am the expert. I know. You don't know. So listen up and listen good:

1. Jews virtually control the criminal justice system (and the judicial system - huge numbers of Jews are lawyers, prosecutors and judges).
2. Jews virtually control the health care system (huge numbers of doctors are Jews).
3. Jews control a large segment of so-called 'Christian Evangelicalism.' (Examples are Pat Robertson and John Hagee).
4. Jews have significant influence in politics and government based on the above.
5. Jews are extremely tribal (tap). (This aspect of Jewish culture deserves a separate blurb, to follow soon.)
6. Since The Holocaust Jews have benefited from a worldwide aversion to criticism of Jews based on the creation of the special sin of 'antisemitism.'
7. Jews created God, and They are His Chosen People. We are shit in the eyes of God, relatively speaking.

And I could go on and on but you get the idea. Jews have an enormous amount of power in America and they are not above using that power for their own benefit and for Israel's benefit. Jews want Israel to become the 51st state.

Prove me wrong if you can. I feel the need to point out that my opinions about Jews are my own. You should draw no conclusions concerning my tastes in websites regarding this (extreme?) opinion. I cite the most recent case as an example. This glorious woman (as well as other glorious women) should not be considered 'guilty by association.' None of them have anything to do with the formation and/or expression of my opinions here. They are totally innocent. So is Kootch.

Labels: Jews

(5)

I have long since forgotten the names of the cop, the lawyer, and the judge. But I remember clearly that as I later thought about the entire process it dawned on me that the names of the lawyer, judge, and prosecutrix were very 'Jewish.' It was my very first inkling that I might be having some sort of problem with Jews. Furthermore, my Jewish dentist seemed to be very fond of drilling out huge holes in my teeth in order to fill small cavities. Bizarre. My later interactions with Jews would only confirm that hypothesis.

Later unfortunate (boom) experiences would inevitably only contribute to the idea: Jews hated me. Why? I was only Irish. We had nothing to do with 'The Holocaust.'

Many years later I would figure it all out: I was being stalked by a filthy Jewish queer by the name of Walter Gerash. Gerash was using his Jewish connections against me and those filthy Jews were only too (thump above me) ready to assist. Most all of my interactions with Jews since then have tended to confirm that hypothesis.

Labels: Jews

(4)

Very funny stuff here.

My very first encounter with the Arapahoe County Criminal Justice System occured in this very same back yard before there were fences in the area (tap). The occasion must have been about 1972 or 1973. One fateful afternoon I was in the back yard with my BB gun shooting wild flowers (for lack of better targets). There suddenly appeared a dude walking toward me. He entered my back yard as if he owned it! This definitely tended to piss me off. He identified himself as an off-duty police officer who was working as a part-time security guard for the condo complex just east of our house. He accused me of shooting out some windows (thunk) in the condos under construction. He then charged me with the crime of 'malicious mischief' and confiscated my BB gun. Whoa!

I was innocent of the charge. I was stunned and mystified. I was angry. I pleaded, 'not guilty.' I chose a 'trial to the judge' (not a trial to a jury - a huge mistake). I hired a lawyer. I expected to be fully vindicated. Wrong.

The trial date arrived. My lawyer and I appeared in court (lots of tap-tap above as I write this). As we were sitting in the hallway waiting for the trial to begin my lawyer advised me that the DA had offered us a deal: a 'deferred prosecution.' He did not explain the term to me in any detail - at least not in terms I understood. I rejected the offer: I was innocent and I intended to prove it in a court of law to an impartial judge.

A 'deferred prosecution,' I would later come to find out, was an offer to drop the charges after a certain length of time if the defendant committed no further crimes.

At trial my lawyer made absolutely no attempt to defend me! The cop lied under oath, describing how I had maliciously shot out condo windows. My lawyer failed to cross-examine him in any meaningful way. I could have put on a better defense myself! No evidence was presented (in the form of photographs, for example) other than the testimony of the cop. It was his word against mine. Surely the judge would rule 'not guilty' based on that lack of evidence.

Wrong: I was a solitary Irishman in the Jaws of Jewish Legal Power (boom).

Labels: Cops, Irish, Jews

(3)

And here we see (stomp) the result of a metamorphasis: The 'witching hour has arrived (another stomp) and we have morphed into our true, depraved, alternate personalities: Jenny into that of 'stoned young goddess' and me into that of (boom) 'Reefer-mad dad.' I love the hair here. No, this was not my answer to Kootch's afro. I was probably off that day. It might have been a typical Saturday (boom) Night. Cloudy, of course.

(I just showed this to Kootch on a full screen. Her reaction was to comment on my hair. Then she said, 'Where did you get that picture?' Then she said, 'That's disgusting.' Then she said, 'Don't broad(boom)cast that kinda picture.')

Little does she know.

Some years ago I gave Kootch my first 'Windows capable' computer (after I had bought the replacement) and tried to teach her about computers and the internet. It lasted about two weeks in her room before she kicked it out. Teaching computers to Kootch was about like teaching geology to my mother: a lost cause. Not that Kootch is a complete idiot: she is a 'Sudoku' freak and is much better at it than I am.

What a bong! I think it was a double-chambered version which filtered the smoke through two different layers of water (being gassed here (thump) with RLG). Notice the large bowl. It was perfect for packing in large amounts of my weak Ganja. We always filled it with hot water before using it, because the moisture from the hot water soothed the harshness of the smoke.

Labels: drugs, marijuana

(2)

Another prom night photo shows Jenny and me at our best: bright, young, good-looking high school student about to graduate, and her proud, handsome, respected - indeed, 'doting,' father. This was our 'daytime persona.' Amost certainly the can in my right hand is Olympia beer. The tree behind us is an Aspen planted by YT. The beer -were it visible - might give the viewer a slight clue as to the alternative view of the matter, discussed in the next panel titled, (tap) 'Reefer-mad Dad.'

(1)

Poor BB. I don't think he ever got any pussy.

Speaking of which, here is Jenny on her high school prom night. The guy's name is 'Rich.' I did not like Rich, but that was my problem. My telescope is in the background. I bought it for about two thousand dollars (I think) (tap) from a California company named, 'Astrola.' Not long after I built the 'observatory' a 'street light' appeared (slight stomp above me) in our front yard. The result was lots of irritating 'light pollution.' I complained to the authorities and they put a mask inside the glass enclosure, which served to shield our house from most of the unwanted radiation.

Some time after that, another source of light pollution appeared in the form of a floodlight (tap) mounted on one of the condos on the other side of the rear fence. The light pollution was even more disturbing than that from the street light because it illuminated the (thump) entire back yard and back of the house. The fence sheltered the ground itself from the unwanted light, but I think the floodlight was high enough to shine on the observatory itself. Extremely irritating.

I complained to the owners of the floodlight to no avail. Although they invited me into their home to discuss the matter (thunk above me) they were totally (boom) unsympathetic. They refused to reduce either the angle or the intensity of their floodlight. During our conversation I noticed they talked with some sort of european accent. They might have been 'holocaust survivors' (tap) 'taking revenge' (per Gerash) on a 'future Irish antisemite.'

Labels: light pollution, telescope

(7)

Here is Kootch and BB relaxing on top of BB's house. As you can see, BB is not exactly a small doggie. Even so, I regret resorting to the obvious solution to our 'BB problem.' By the way, the kids named BB. Possibly they saw a connection between his color and the BBs in my BB gun. More about that later. By the way, when we drove to the private residence which had advertised BB for sale we were under the impression that we were about to view an 'Australian Shepherd,' not an 'Austrian Shepherd.'

Big difference. But we liked BB...

(6)

Here is BB in the back yard. My 'observatory' is in the background. BB proved to be valuable as a sentinel, barking and growling at the slightest suggestion that his territory was in danger of being invaded. In fact, BB was overactive in that regard, barking even when unexpected events happened outside his 'territory.' BB was so assertive that I began to fear for his safety. What if the neighbors got so upset with his barking that they poisoned him?
About the only way to impress BB was to kick him. A little kick and he would get the message. Usually I only had to yell at him. He knew that if he failed to stop barking I would kick him (gently). BB did not like being kicked, and so he usually heeded my verbal protests. I still feel guilty about kicking BB.

When we sold the house I made the deal contingent on the agreement that the new owner must keep BB in the back yard until he died naturally. So far as I know that deal was honored.

Have you ever kicked a dog? Shame on you.

(5)
Here we are in the Living Room opening Christmas presents. The Mickey's bottle must be left over from Christmas Eve because we never drank in the mornings. The chess position shows the board after the second move in the 'Sicilian Defense.' White now usually plays, 3. d4...

(4)

Here is Jenny and friend sitting together on the roof of BB's dog house (BB was our 'Austrian Shepherd) in the back yard. Kathy and I built the fence in the background. We also built an 'observatory' to house my ten inch reflector (and BB's house too, of course). There was lots of grass to cut in both the front and back yards. I did most of it but Kathy helped on occasion. We used an electric lawnmower.

(3)

Back to personal history: This is our house on South Franklin Street. We bought it new, 'on The GI Bill.' The occasion of the photo was the rainbow. The small area enclosed by sidewalk was filled by flowering plants. It was this area I referred to when I related the story of 'petting a busy bee' while doing Acid. Our '66 T-Bird is parked outside the two-car garage.
Interestingly in retrospect, the floor of the garage had footsteps imprinted in it: someone had walked across the wet concrete and his footsteps remained there after it dried. We noticed this obvious defect when we inspected the house for the first time but did not think to demand that the floor of the garage be replaced. I suspect that the Jewish faggot Walter Gerash himself walked across that wet concrete. Those tracks might still be there. We grew the grass from seeds, and eventually spent many hours mowing it in both the front and back.

(2)

The US population reached 300 million this morning, they say. This is only an educated guess, of course. There is room for doubt concerning whether that singular arrival was male or female, legal or illegal. As I thought about the significance of this news, I connected it with another salient fact about the US population: the 'health care problem.' It appears that the population growth exceeds the growth in health care. I have a suggestion: let's eliminate circumcision cost. That would save us at least 200 million dollars a year. What I am proposing here is that we as a nation outlaw neonatal circumcision as a 'theraputic device' healthcarewise. It is obviously not cost-effective, not to mention that it seriously cuts into total national sexual satisfaction (TNSS), an importantant measure of national well-being in a highly competitive world.

Therefore I hereby propose that the elimination of subsidised neonatal circumcision be at the top of any new healthcare proposal to be submitted to congress. Not that I would propose an actual law against the procedure just yet. Jews, Muslims, and penis-envious daddies would still be able to circumcise their male newborns, only they would have to pay for the 'procedure' out of their own pockets. Sound reasonable? I estimate that this health care provision would eventually reduce sexual mutilation in America to near the low levels now being experienced in, for example, Britain. Furthermore it would save us many millions which would be better spent elsewhere.

I would favor an eventual ban on neonatal circumcision, including circumcision for so-called 'religious reasons' beginning in the year 2016. After 2016 it would be a crime to sexually mutilate any newborn male for all except bonafide medical reasons - excluding, of course, that ancient Jewish diagnosis, 'phymosis,' which is basically a scam.

I understand that this law would place an unacceptable burden on the hard-core Judeo-Muslim population. Therefore I would write into the non-circumcision law a rider to the effect that any Jew/Muslim who sought to emigrate because of the new law be granted a 25 dollar compensation toward his exit expenses.

Labels: circumcision, penis envy, sexual mutilation

(1)

I should clarify my use of the word, 'customs' in (1) below: there was no actual customs process because Hawaii was a state at the time. But we thought we would be asked questions at the airport as we departed. This was because on our arrival in Hawaii there seemed to be some official interest in what we were bringing into Hawaii. This was back in the good old days before the International Culture Wars began to affect air travel in a significant way.

And concerning the term, 'eternal life,' I use it in the sense that since you are by definition unable to pinpoint either the beginning or the end of your personal consciousness that consciousness is 'eternal' from your perspective. Others will have a different view.

And on this general subject, Today had an interesting interview with Deepak Chopra, the well-known 'Mystibabelarian.' (The word is derived from 'mystical' and describes one who babels about mystical ideas. 'Mystibabel is akin to 'psychobabel.' Both terms are somewhat derisive and refer to those individual 'disciplines' from the exasperated point of view of the layman.) The discussion was about 'the soul' and whether there is a portion of us which survives death. Chopra thinks so. But to the question, 'Isn't it a matter of faith?' Chopra replied in the negative: '...Where we are now, in science, it says: consciousness is not a product of our biology; our biology is a product of our consciousness...' This is high class mystibabel at best, and a simple lie at worst: Most scientistists would disagree.

(4)

And what a glorious freedom it is!

I should address the fear of Satan too, while I'm on the subject of Existential Fear. Fear of Satan relates to fear of God: both are figments which have no basis in reality. Likewise, the fear of Hell. There is no Hell, no Heaven. Someday you will die forever. You will never return. As one of my favorite web sites proclaims: 'Life is short: make fun of it!'

The downside of nonbelief is that you will have to live with the idea that you will die forever. At first glance this is a horrifying prospect. But is it? Think:

The Universe began about 13 billion years ago. You only arrived recently. You missed the first 13 billion. Do you feel sad about that? Not exactly. Did you really miss it? Not exactly. You weren't there!

The Universe may last for another 13 billion years (or many more). You will die forever and therefore you will miss all those years. It might be a trillion years and you will miss them all. Should you be sad about that? Not at all: you won't be there either. You weren't there for the first 13 billion and you won't be there for the last trillion. Thank God! It could be much worse.

But you long for eternal life. You want to live forever. You equate the two. Wrong: you will not live forever but you already have Eternal Life.

Labels: fear of God, religion

(3)

What I would like to address tonight is your fear of God. You may not even aware of it, but if you fear God, that fear will subtly influence much of your behavior depending on what you think about 'the will of God.' Your fear will in a sense form your behavior. Hence the 'fear of God' is a 'cultural fear' which is far more significant than, for example, your 'fear of heights.'

'Fear of God' figures prominently in the modern social phenomenon known as 'The Culture Wars.' Jews (boom), for example, sexually mutilate their male children on the eighth day after birth out of their fear of God - the God they invented. Muslims follow that unfortunate Jewish sexual prescription. Both religions rely on sexual mutilation to suppress male masturbation because both religions regard that very normal activity as displeasing to God. The result is intercultural (boom) penis envy, not to mention huge amounts of sexual misery.

Your fear of God will be amplified if you think that God can read your thoughts. Your fear of God will be doubly amplified if you think that God cares about what your thoughts really are. If you think that God can read your thoughts and that furthermore God makes judgements about what you think you will be concerned into changing your behavior to conform with whatever religious mores you are inclined to believe. This effect is even further amplified if you believe in a life after death wherein God 'takes revenge' on those whose thoughts and actions displeased Him.

And if you believe that God will punish you forever in Hell for what you think and do while you are alive then you will be literally terrified into behaving in certain stereotypical ways.

The key word here is, 'believe.' You must believe. If you don't believe, you are free: free from the Existential Fear of God.

Labels: fear of God, religion

(2)

This week's notes:
----------
the Ann Curry fan club
Jimmy Buffet - Ecstacy
Mohammed Yunus - Nobel Peace Prize
Friday the 13th
----------
I count myself a member of the Ann Curry fan club, of course, as well as the Jimmy Buffet fan club - not to mention the Mohammed Yunus fan club.

Today is Friday 13th. Today an interesting piece on the subject. Seems they asked readers to vote on their fears, and after tallying the results came up with the following 'top fears:'
1. Fear of heights - 34 (percent)
2. Fear of closed spaces - 25
3. Fear of animals/insects - 20
4. Fear of flying - 11
5. Fear of the dark - 5.6
6. Fear of thunderstorms - 4.3
7. Fear of the number 13 - .6

This is a most interesting result from my point of view. In fact I found the entire interview interesting and decided to make 'fear' my theme for tonight. By way of introduction I would say that 'fear' is a murky subject. First of all, there is the division of fear into rational and irrational. Rational fear is a desirable personal attribute. Rational fear contributes to personal (though not necessarily group) survival. Do you fear? Be happy you do. Your fear might save you.

I have no argument with rational fear. In fact, I see all the above fears except 'fear number 7' as falling in the category of 'rational fears.' Those fears become pathological when they become so intense as to preclude normal everyday behavior. You see that. Right?

(1)

Or maybe that photo of Jenny was taken in Hawaii. Jenny, Kootch, and I visited Hawaii late in my career with Honeywell. Kathy and Mark were living with us at the time and took care of the house while we were gone. By the way, while we were on Maui I managed to do a drug deal with a taxi driver for an ounce of 'Maui-wowie,' the local pot. We smuggled it through customs in my jacket pocket. The original plan was to let Jenny do it, but I thought better of it at the last (boom) minute. The pot was nothing special, as I recall, in spite of its reputation. (I just checked the back of Jenny's photo: '16 wallets. Proof.' Guess it was her high school photo after all.

The current photos show us drug smugglers in Hawaii. Kootch is wearing her afro. I asked her about that and she says that at the time she was snowed under by work at both home and K-Mart and an afro was simple to maintain. Hmm...

I don't think we smoked pot at all in Hawaii.

(6)

I hated my father too, of course: here was a mariage made in Hell. And I was offspring! Nor did I attend my father's funeral. I am not big on funerals. I may not attend my own funeral.

So when I married Kootch I set my 'fatherly sights' on doing it better than my parents. It was obviously a case of 'aiming low.' It was easy. Here is Jenny:

As you can see, Jenny is a gloriously beautiful young woman. (Right Lung Gas here (tap above)). In the left photo she is being attended by her older sister, Kathy. The picture at the right might be her high school graduation photo.

The picture at the left shows my record player, on which I heard so many Beethoven pieces while tripping. It also shows my 'chess art.' I created this piece from a plywood square. I then cut out 64 squares of velvet. I then glued a large square of sheet metal to the plywood. Then I glued the felt squares to the sheet metal in the form of a chess board. Then I carved the chess pieces out of thick balsa. Then I glued magnets to the back of each piece. Then I added balsa strips behind the pieces to stabilize the pieces while they clung magnetically to the metal underneath the felt squares.

Satisfied with the final product I hung it on the wall. I often produced well known chess positions in 'the opening' on my creation. A chess game could easily be played on this board. I had made a similar magnetic chess board a year or two earlier, and had learned from the mistakes. Last I saw of it was at the Denver Chess Club 'mobile version' near I-25 and Broadway. I still have the version depicted in the photo.

(5)

She flew safely back to Atlanta after her visit to Denver.

My opinion of my mother began to go downhill about age twelve: she abandoned me and my brother to nuns in a Catholic orphanage. That opinion never recovered. After returning to her 'care' three or four years later it was still going downhill. We had no medical care, no dental care. My brother almost died from Appendicitis because of her 'motherly' negligence. I never visited a dentist. My first visit to a dentist happened in Japan after I had Joined the USAF. My mother apparently approved the circumcision of my brother at age eleven, for bed-wetting reasons. He was 'cured by circumcision.' My brother and I were thereafter forever separated by Penis Envy.
I remember suggesting to my mother that (as we drove west of Denver) the obvious geological strata indicated an ancient Earth History. She would have none of it. She was unalterably committed to Biblical Theory in that regard. My mother is by far the most ignorant woman I have met, next to Kootch. She was of at least average intelligence, but her ignorance was breathtaking, as is that of Kootch.

I still remember the intense pleasure I felt when she descended into the basement of our house on South Franklin street. She suggested that she could move in with us and fix up the basement and live there indefinitely. Sheeeit! I took great pleasure in informing her that her fantasy had no possible future in it. She got the message and headed back to Atlanta.

Over many years, as I reflected on my mother's performance as 'mother,' I arrived at the conclusion that she was an abject failure: I hated her.

I did not attend her funeral. What a pathetic failure she was!

(4)

I was forced to go back to my notes for last Friday night in order to come up with a new idea here. I selected 'banned books week' as the best subject. I love the idea of 'banned books' because I hate the idea of limiting human curiosity for any reason - especially for ecclesiastical reasons. Hmm. Apparently one of my future screen names has already been preempted by the title of a book on that list: Captain Underpants. Oh, well... Darn.

Here is my mother with 9666 Risky (tap) as backdrop. She visited us in Denver and I flew her around the local area in order to demonstrate to her that her predictions concerning my future prospects were in error. My mother was one of those people who subscribed to the idea that negative feedback was the most effective way of suppressing undesirable behavior in children. She was wrong about that, of course. One of her favorite 'put-downs' was that I would never become a pilot. So I proved her wrong by taking her up in triple six Risky. Kootch rode along in the rear seat, taking pictures. Kootch loved my mother as a matter of Japanese duty: Japanese wives automatically love their mothers in law. No exceptions.
I tried to scare her on this occasion by doing some hairy maneuvers. No joy: she had already made a pact with God to the effect that she would remain free from airplane accidents for the duration of her visit to Denver.

(3)

If you Googled 'epistomology' you got the message, "Did you mean, 'Epistemology?' I love that about Google: it seems to know sometimes what you really mean. I'll leave the poor spelling intact. Least I can do... I often use Google as a spell checker, but not this time.

Currenteventswise the NK nuclear (pronounced, 'noo-clee-ar' - not 'noo-cue-ler') test seems to have been something of a fizzle. One likely explanation is that the NKs failed to time the encapsulating chemical pressures correctly allowing much of the nuclear energy to escape. It was a timing problem. You probably already know that in order to get the most 'bang for the buck' in a fission event you need to contain the initial nuclear expansion by (explosive) chemical means. Perfect chemical symmetry equals perfect nuclear result. Not that I am an expert. And 'perfect chemical symmetry' means timing the chemical reactions (explosions) to the nanosecond so as to form a containing force structure around the expanding bubble of nuclear reaction. Such a result guarantees that the resulting nuclear reaction will be efficient. Apparently the NK test was grossly inefficient. You can quote me on that.

(2)

In what follows you might detect an unhealthy interest in little boys. You will be wrong about that: Little boys (indeed big boys and men) have never interested me sexually. The scene is an interview between God and a 14 year old Jewish (circumcised of course) boy.

gd: What is your question?
lb: Why am I so horney?
gd: (to me: You said you screened this kid. I'm gonna get you for this. Just wait.)
gd: Mother Nature, my son. Mother Nature.
lb: Mother Nature made me horney?
gd: Exactly.
lb: So why don't my parents let me fuck my sister? Are they against Mother Nature?
gd: Sisters are verboten.
lb: So who do I fuck? My mother?
gd: Also verboten. You must learn to suppress your sexual desires in My Name.
lb: Why?
gd: Sex revulses Me. It's disgusting. I hate watching it.
lb: So... don't watch?
gd: That won't work: I have to watch. It's my job. I'm the Main Watcher.
lb: So close your eyes.
gd: I have no eyes. I am everywhere. I know but do not see. Thus I must 'watch.'
lb: Sounds like an epistomological nightmare.
gd: That it is.
lb: My folks say that I was circumcised for Your sake.
gd True.
lb: But what about me? I'm horney. My Catholic friends jerk off constantly but I need lubricant. It's expensive. I don't have a job.
gd: Get a job.

(Gassed by (boom) RLG as I finished that.)

Labels: circumcision, fear of God, Jews

(1)

Sexual consent in the lawyer age.

I got the 'Connection lost' message again just as I checkmated another strong opponent. They can obviously 'pull the plug' at will (10-8-6, about 2043).

I'm here from Enough... where I described an incident today which led to the probable identification of Left Lung Gas. If I am correct, the incident confirms my suspicion that Gerash uses physicians in his stable of 'technicals.' Not that I suspect the (boom) physician I visited today: far from it. Very far. Very very far. Very very very far. But the substance can only be acquired by prescription, hence 'they' need a prescriber. I have my suspicions in that regard but they are only suspicions, so no names. Yet.
So I am celebrating that. You know me: any excuse to celebrate. I reread last Friday's blog entry describing God's answers to children's prayers and was disappointed in my performance (as God): those kids asked some amazing questions! My answers were pedestrian at best. No child asked about the state of his penis, of course: such questions come up only after puberty when the child notices that some of his friends can 'skin it back,' whereas he can't.
So I came up just now with the idea of doing an interview with God by a 14 year old boy (tap) who has been circumcised. I will devote the next panel to this interview:

(9)

Here is a picture of the Lake M. airstrip. Kootch and I landed there after I'd had two beers, reluctantly supplied to me by Kootch from the back seat, from a six pack. We met friends there as prearranged. Meanwhile I suppose Gerash more or less had 'the run of the house' after seducing the girls to 'spend the night' (tap) with 'friends.' Gerash and his Jewish buddies had no problem supplying my children with 'friends.' Neither I nor they suspected such a scenerio. Too bad for us.

What did he do there, in our home? I suppose he sniffed my dirty laundry. In fact, I think he was quite used to such sniffing, having done it for nine or ten years already. He probably slept in our bed, dreaming, fantasizing, smelling my dirty shorts, wishing we were united (being gassed here RLG) in homo-matrimony.

This was about 1977 (tap). I agreed to fly my friend's girlfriend around the lake. I flew us around the nearest features of the lake. We buzzed a few boats. I took care to minimize the chance they would be able to record my tail number. Then I returned her to her male friend. I was not attracted to her in the least (I have never been attracted to another man's woman). I remember that she objected emotionally to the 'stick' between her passenger legs: her husband (or friend) owned an airplane with wheel controls and she was used to that. I now suspect that she was pissed off by my lack of interest in her. (Damn this is fun.)

Kootch never flew with me again.

(8)

I'm on a roll. Another picture or two?

Ah yes! Here is Mark, looking serious, followed by Jenny, pre-braces, in the rear seat of 31 Victor. I took the photos from the front seat of course. Mark is wearing my earphones which were eventually stolen by ground crew at Arapahoe after I left them on the the elevator of 31 Victor. Idiot!

The earphones were green. When the fella asked me what color they were, I knew they were gone forever and that he had taken them. By the way: that fella worked in airport security. I bought new earphones, of course, and did a fair number of Acid trips with them. 31 Victor had one speaker for the radio. It was located (tap) on the upper right. It had no volume control (tap). My first flight in 31 Victor (just after the sale) served to caution me against using that radio without earplugs. My right ear still rings sometimes from that experience. Nothing serious.

31 Victor was a 'high panel' Citabria, meaning that it had more than the rudimentary instruments: you could fly it IFR. If you examine the Citabria Photos in these blogs you will see what I mean. I never flew it IFR, of course. In any case, the Artificial Horizon was missing. The guy I bought it from claimed that it was in the shop and that he would send it to me. He never did.

I was soooo trusting back in those days.

(7)

I recently did a test run on a 'personal dating service' site. I flunked the questionaire because I am not single. So it looks like I will have to lie if I want to meet my True Love electronically. Bummer. But there is even more of a problem: the faggot Gerash can see my computer screen. Therefore he would be able to see who I was involved with. He would then be able to influence her, or even impersonate her. Can you imagine Gerash and me involved in a lovey-dovey electronic correspondence? Gross... In fact, very creepy.

Can I do another picture? Yep. This is my Citabria, bought in about 1977. In those days I had visions of getting Kootch interested in flying and teaching the kids how to fly, and other stuff. It was an old airplane (tap) as you can see: no modern spring steel gear like 5087X. I bought this airplane pre-Acid. I realized, post-Acid, that it was all vanity, and I dropped it.

Three one Victor turned out to be an Albatross. This the only airplane I ever flew drunk. For your information, flying airplanes while drunk is about as easy as driving cars while drunk. The photograph was taken at Arapahoe County Airport where I tied it down for a fee. I suspect that the airplane was sabotaged by Gerash: on one occasion while I was flying with Stan Paules the rear 'stick' became inoperative because the nut-bolt attachments 'failed.' Luckily I was flying in the front seat - not that Stan would not have been able to land us safely.

On another occasion while Kootch and I were flying back to Denver from Lake McConaughy the engine began to overheat. We landed and checked out the engine but could find nothing wrong. After the engine cooled down we resumed the flight back to Denver, but the engine overheated again. We landed safely at Arapahoe. The problem disappeared after I reported it to the local maintenance outfit. About all they did was change the oil.

(6)

I remarked to Marci on the occasion of my first encounter with the original wax models that if I had to endure such dentures that I would be forced to change my sexual preference. It was a joke, of course. But as I become more and more familiar with my new dentures I find that I tend to whistle and lisp like a pansy. Will I learn to overcome that? Almost certainly. My first consideration was utility followed by appearance. I have the utility and the appearance. Pronounciation will follow in due course in spite of Judeo homo moneyfication.

But enough about dentures. Can I produce a picture? Or two or three? Yep. These are of the same tree which was struck by lightening many years ago. Over time the lightening scar has healed such that nowadays that scar resembles a cunt.

Closer inspection reveals that this cunt is leaking and that there is even a tiny subculture thriving on that leak.

At the time the photos were taken the canal was running full. My conjecture is that this tree was sucking up water from the full canal but that due to internal damage from the ancient strike moisture was leaking from the 'cunt.'

I have further noticed that more than 90 percent of the struck trees on the trail are on the side nearest the canal. It would seem to follow that those trees had electrical characteristics which favored being struck by lightening - due to their proximity to water. In fact, I have yet to find a tree on the dry side of the canal which has been struck by lightening.

(5)

Denture delivery came (tap) a week and a half later. My first impression was that all the teeth were as I remembered them from the 'adjusted' wax model. There was a brief period of final (but to me unnecessary) grinding adjustment after which I was allowed to leave with my new teeth (plus the old ones, of course). The dentist explained that he would be unavailable this week because of a family emergency (tap) but that he was otherwise available. So far I have not needed to consult him. I anticipate an uneventful adjustment to my new dentures (boom). So in retrospect:

Do I think that Gerash and his surrogates got involved in the process? Absolutely. There is no doubt about that at all.

Did Gerash and his surrogates infect both the Dentist and the denturist? Absolutely. It is psychologically impossible for Gerash to let such an opportunity go by unexploited.

Were the girls also involved? Almost certainly.

Do I blame those involved (boom): Not (tap) very much. I'm used to it. And by the way: the dentist has a very fine taste in the opposite sex: they were all gloriously good-looking women, including his female dentist pardner whose name suggests that she is Jewish.

Will I give you the name of the dentist? No. But I will give you the names of his personal assistant (Marci) and his receptionist (Michelle).

Remaining questions: did Gerash contact the (possibly Jewish) pardner of my dentist? Did he pass on to her the IP address of one of my blogs? Did She pass it on to the other girls? Did Marci ask me about my grandchildren (boom) based on what she had read in one of my blogs?

All the world wants to know.

(4)

At the next appointment I brought my very first (upper) denture. I informed the dentist that the current wax model (thump) was unacceptable (thump). He was to instruct his 'denturist' to use that denture as a general guide to design the next wax model. Another long wait.

Wax model #2 arrived and I took it home with me. I should mention that there was an obscene (to me) buildup of wax crap just prior to the two front teeth on the upper. This buildup caused me to again lisp like a pansy. The dentist removed it. The teeth did not quite mesh. Also, one of the left bicuspids (tap) was grossly out of position. So, using my intuition (and also the advice of my very first denture dentist) I put those suckers in and began a slow, gentle grind. Gradually, over the period of several hours, the upper and lower teeth in the models adjusted their relationship to each other in a most satisfactory manner, including the offending bicuspids.

When I arrived for the next visit I seemed to be definitely less popular with the ladies there. In the examining room I informed the dentist (and his assistant (boom) Marci) that I had disregarded his advice not to keep the dentures in my mouth for more than ten minutes. I explained to him in sort of geological terms that I used heat, time, and pressure (though I did not use those exact (tap) words) to adjust the teeth in the models and that I had eventually arrived at an acceptable 'fit' and that I expected that the final product would reflect that diligence. I suggested that I may have saved us considerable adjustment time.

The dentist replied that he had never heard of that technique but that he would consider using it with future patients. I think it was during this visit that Marci asked me about (boom) my grandchildren.

(3)

The new dentures are doing fine, it's me that has the problem. The expected soreness peaked yesterday morning and is decreasing rapidly. And of course they are a mouthful compared to my old worn down dentures. I've been grinding on those suckers for 25 years and they are flat. The new ones are real choppers. I can chop up a spoonful of fukujinzuke in no time at all. It took a while to get here:

The first problem was a cancelled-rescheduled appointment. Then there were delays between visits totalling at least a month (probably more like six weeks). Then there was the problem of scheduling the next appointment: the secretary/receptionist was out to lunch (tap) after several appointments and the next appointments had to be done by tele(thump)phone. I hate using the (tap) telephone. Then there was the 'wax try-in.' Finally!

The wax model contained the actual teeth to be installed in the final edition. The wax model was a disaster: there was so little room for my tongue to maneuver that I lisped like a pansy when I tried to speak. Also the teeth were waaay too small. They might have worked for a little old lady (boom) but not for a robust (tap) male like me. I hated them (boom) although the dentist seemed to like them. The dentist let me take them home with me with the proviso that I not keep the models in my mouth for more than ten (tap) minutes at a time 'Because that would soften the wax and the models would become deformed.' Utter Bullshit.

I took photographs which compared the wax models to my very first dentures.

(2)

I don't know whether this leak is pathological or intentional. In either case it is quite a leak.

(1)

Here is the bridge over The gulch. The Highline canal flows over this bridge. The bridge leaks, as you can see. This area is where the Highline Canal Trail intersects the Lee Gulch Trail. The Lee Gulch Trail goes under the bridge.

(4)

What about the 'Chief of Detectives?'

Is the sucker a faggot?

(3)

When you undertake to buy somebody in the Gerashian sense, it helps you if your 'mark' is 'of your tribe.' Significant savings can be attributed to tribal considerations. So if you are a Jew you save by buying other Jews. Irish Catholics, for example, come at a higher price, if you are a Jew.

Are you a Jew? Are you on a limited budget? Then begin by buying other Jews.

Are you queer? Are you on a limited budget? Then begin by buying (tap) other queers. Always buy 'similarity' (boom). Jewish queers, for example, come at a surprisingly cheap rate when you yourself are a privately verifiable Jewish queer.

For example (boom):

Suppose you are Gerash. I have moved to Charleston. You want to resume your life of pleasurable harrassment against me. One of your objectives will be to identify (a) the Jews in the Charleston Police Force; (b) the queers in the Charleston Police Force. How do you do that?

Frankly it takes time, but you can do it. If you spend enough time and money on the problem you will eventually be able to categorize every single member of the Charleston Police Force in terms of both their religion and their covert sexual preferences. It goes without saying that the higher ranks yield higher returns in those cases of 'deviannity.' Is the Chief of Police a Jewish queer? An Irish queer? An African-American queer?
Bingo!

(2)

If you think that the police cannot be bought in such a scenerio you are wrong. Gerash bought the ACSD (tap) in just such a scenerio. You can buy anybody, really. All you need is money.

Do you want to buy a juror? It takes money. A prosecutor? It takes money. A judge? It takes money. Many thousands of people are bought and sold on the open market every day. All it takes is money. Everybody has a price and if you have enough money you can buy anybody.

Only not me.

Do you want to become a famous lawyer? You only need money.

(1)

I'm celebrating tonight. New dentures! I can actually grin now, instead of just smiling. Hmm. Guess I'll have to send in another contribution to Operation Smile. The new dentures cost me over two thou, so I suppose I can afford another 40 bucks. More about this later.

This means that I am one step closer to leaving Denver. It is a daunting prospect (tap): where to go? What about my HMO? Will I be limited to regions served by my HMO? Should I forget my HMO and go on Medicare? What about my health (thump)? Dare I abandon my HMO? And what about Jews (tap)? They say that Oklahoma is relatively Jew-free. Should I head for Oklahoma?

How 'bout Charleston, my old home town? Should I head for Charleston and try to charm the panties off one of my old schoolmates? Or one of her friends? Sounds like a good idea. I need a place to live. I need a room at least. I think I can afford to pay rent on a room, and eat. I can probably get a job driving a bus or delivering pizza. That'll make ends meet.

Such a scenerio will mark a huge change: no more gassing (tap); no more RF. And in the beginning (tap) at least, no more eavesdropping. No more voyeurism. I will be Judeo-faggot free! But it won't last: the one person on Earth who 'cares about me' the most will eventually (tap) spread his malevolent influence to Charleston (thump). He will begin by buying one of the local lawyers and/or investigators. Then he will ingratiate himself to the local police by contributing a huge sum to the local police family/social organization. He will, in effect, buy the police with that contribution.