daily scratchpad

(6)

Having become 'more or less famous' recently I decided to resort to The Brown Telephone. I alone own The Original Brown Telephone! Muthafuck! I dialed 666. Ring, ring, ring. I was about to hang up when I heard a voice on the other end say, 'Hello?' Alright! I snuggled up to the TBT. I said, 'It's me!' Silence.
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I decided to call God. I dialed 666 on The Brown Telephone. God answered immediately:
gd: High there?

gd: And who are you?

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You folks out there need to understand that the above scenerio is 'history' in the sense that your preconceived notions do not quite fit the current situation: 'History' is one thing - 'Accurate History' is another. Compos Mentos? No? We all marvel at the question! (Heavy R-burning as I wrote that). You idiots think that the dumbass Jewish God actually reads this blog. Uh-uh. Not so.
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(5)
0735L. Outa beer! Ratness! Kootch has hit the sack. We are alone. (whoa! in the LR just now I witnessed the dumbass in 203 attempting to park his dumbass SUV. I made obscene gestures to the dumbass muthafuck. There was no reaction that I could detect with my impaired vision. There is no doubt at all in my mind that the piece of Jewish dogshit in 203 is working for Gerash. Suck on it, faggot! This particular piece of Jewish Dog Shit has lived in 203 for many years. The dumbass muthafuck thinks that (heavy L Burning) he is above the law. What the dumbass muthafuck fails to realize is that he is not above MY LAW.

(4)
I just discovered the missing beer. Rats. I now have two beers open. Gotta drink 'em. Oh, well... what the hell... I just walked into Kootch's room and said, 'Your husbsnd is a fucking genius!' Kootch replied, 'You're drunk.'
She was right, of course, but I am a fucking genius nevertheless.
We need to do a Link Dump before I am totally assassinated. Lessee...
Doctor Pate's Blog. A doctor refuses to bow to the Jewish/American Medical Establishment. Alright!
Cosmic Log: Is God Punishing The Gulf? Good question.
Giant Jesus goes up in flames. Whoa!
You know me, folks. After reading the previous links I felt the need to call up The Jewish God, WHTZSNM on The Brown Telephone. I dialed 666 on The Brown Telephone and extended the antenna. God answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me; Congratulations: Direct hit!
gd: To what should I attribute this unexpected praise? Are you sucking up to me? What 'direct hit?' Where are you coming from?
me: (uploading the image of Jesus before the disaster)
gd: Your imagery does not impress. Please state your central theme immediately before I hang up.
me: The styrofoam image of Jesus took a direct hit from You. It burned spectacularly. All The World is imressed! You should notice a huge spike in Your popularity!
gd. Not. What is this crap?! Who are you really?
----------
I hung up immediately, of course.

(3)
I later noticed BHB on the grass. He appeared to be talking with 203, another member of the gang. I snapped his photo. An ACSD car showed up. BHB had called the cops! Alright! I grabbed the camera and walked out onto the patio. I snapped BHB and the cop car (cop still in car). I then motioned to the cop to, 'Come on up!' Eheh. Muthafuck! I loved it! (tap) Sheeit!
The cop soon knocked on our door. I was totally rattled, of course, by the preceeding events (unable to contact Blogger. Probable server problems. I am so fucking popular! Where wuz I?)
Cops! The cop turned out to be alone. (more server problems) He was 'African-American,' newly assigned to local ACSD force. (more server problems.) We had a long conversation. I told the cop that taking somebody's photo was not illegal. (How many times has my photo been taken by 'papparatzi?!) The cop (more server problems!) acknowleged that, but explained to me that some people were enraged by having their picture taken, and that I might end up 'bloody' as a result of 'retaliation.' I explained to the cop that at age 75 I was not particularly worried about 'dying.' The cop smiled (microexpressionwise), apparently enjoying the thought (more server problems). (boom from above! More booms, more server problems) But I give MR. Gentle (my nickname for the cop) extra credit for attentiveness: He was more than willing to listen to my stalking sob story. He seemed to understand but not understand. He was patient (tap) while I explained the stalking scenerio, but was obviously totally ignorant of the psychology of the stalker - a trait I have encountered among ACSD personnel (thump) for many years. ACSD cops are totally ignorant when it comes to the psychology of the stalker! (more server problems).
Working on beer #10. Short night ahead!
He eventually gave me his card after revisiting Local Jewish Dog Shit above. My evaluation of MRG is that he was a typical ACSD dumbass, but not as bad as - for example - Paul E Goodman, an obviously Jewish ACSD detective from the '90s.

(2)
(Kootch just appeared in the doorway with a question, but I 'interrupted' her by holding up my empty beer can and waving it back and forth. She mimicked my hand motion and said, 'You sink you do dis, beer's gonna fry to you?' I said, 'Yes.' She went to the 'fridge and brought back another beer. Good girl.)
It's been a bizarre week, featuring much 'street theatre' by (heavy nose rad - many sneezes - off to the 'fridge - back w/beer #4 @1456L) Local Jewish Dog Shit stalkers. It began Monday afternoon when I returned from a shopping trip to King Soopers. I parked Kootch's Toyota near the entrance to our building, grabbed some booty out of the rear seat and headed for the entrance. Butthole Buddy met me, smiled sweetly, said 'Hello.' I glowered at the faggot sonofabitch. He preceeded me to the East entrance and theatrically opened the door for me (both my hands were full of groceries). I muttered, 'Thank you' as I entered the building. I finished unloading the groceries (last sip of beer #4 @1512L... off to the 'fridge again. Beer #6?! Musta missed a beer there somewhere. Buzzing my fucking brains out. Life is delicious.) A bit later, after offloading more booty and parking the car I took the garbage bag out to the local dumpster. On the way there and back I noticed BHB in his car with a woman who 'seemed' to be his 'girlfriend.' Eheh. There was also a young man leaning against the passenger door engaged in conversation with BHB and his 'girlfriend.' He was shirtless, and a totally bizarre ornate cross was tattooed across (tap) his back. The cross was huge, about 12-14 inches in length, and about 8-10 inches in width. At Least. I headed past them to the apartment totally impressed by the sheer Christifuckingannity I had just witnessed. I actually felt Jesus' presence as I walked past that totally awesome tatoo! Yez! Back in the apartment I grabbed my camera, intending to take some photographs of these awesomely religious young people gathered outside. I activated the camera and opened the door just as BHB was driving past our patio. I snapped his photo. Oops.
Kootch and I then began to watch Millionaire.
During the first part of M there was a Huge noise from above. The building around us shook violently. It was if somebody upstairs had dropped a bowling ball from an altitude of 8 feet just above us. I 'snapped' (eheh). I then headed up toward 304, intending to kick their goddamned door. Surprise, surprise! Buttholefuckingbuddy met me as I approached the stairs! He accused me of taking his fucking picture. (sheeit!) An 'altercation then followed during which BHB displayed his inate faggotry. I told him that he was a stalker and that I had taken his picture for the purpose of using it against him. He seemed pleased. I ended the conversation and returned to our apartment and locked the door. BHB knocked several times. I ignored the faggot sonofabitch. Kootch and I finished M.

(1)
Beginning beer #1 @ 1325L. Sip. Just read last week's entries for the second time. Funny, but the booze obviously took its toll there at the end. I've noticed that my mood changes dramatically during the week from totally hungover and feeling guilty and depressed on Saturday, to increasingly manic by Tuesday as my brain recovers structure and function during the week, eventually ending up on Friday at my normal IQ of 143. (Just kidding, I don't know my IQ, but I suspect it is somewhere above 100, given that I live in a world full of complete fucking idiots. My guess is 115 on Friday mornings, 80 on Friday nights. I hear that O'bama has an IQ of around 160. I believe it.)
Ha! the buzz begins @ 1341L!
This brings us to the unbelievable hubris of general Stanley McChrystal who got his dumb ass fired this week because of this stunning article in Rolling Stone. (heavy face rad-IRFS as I write this... gotta evacuate... standby... stomping above me in the LR as I prepare to record the Dylan Ratigan Show on my DVD... back at 1404L... oops, outa beer again... off to the 'fridge... back. Where wuz I? Hubris. Gotta be 'Irish Hubris.' You know: 'Fighting Irish' sorta hubris. I have some of that in me too, but I keep a close watch on it. It helps that I'm only half Irish. O'Bama did the right thing in firing the dumb bastard. 'Chain of command' means exactly that, and broken links must be replaced immediately. I never did like officers anyway. In fact, whenever I see an interview on TV which features General Barry Mccaffrey I always giggle as I wonder how much his performance would have been degraded by facial Botox treatments the day before. Naughty me.

(7)
Gentle! Gentle Mozart. Beautiful stuff. I love Mozart, you love Mozart he, she, It, loves Mozart! We love Mozart, you love Mozart, they love Mozart.
Goodnight and good luck.

(5)
Whee!
I got in touch with both entities while more or less drunk and wasted on Marijuana one night. Revelation! God (WHTZSNM) turned out to be a Complete Fucking Ignoramus, whereas Lucifer turned out to be quite knowledgeable and reasonable. I was very impressed with TBT and especially with Lucifer (Light Bearer). Later 'conversations' with Lucifer revealed the phone numbers of both Jesus and The Holy Ghost. I contacted both. The Holy Ghost turned out to have something of an 'aphasia problem' making it difficult to understand hIr words. The result was that I rarely contacted The Holy Fucking Ghost, preferring instead to speak with either WHTZSFCKNGNM (for comedic effect) or Lucifer (for valuable insight.)
Sip.
Which brings us all into 'the moment,' The Glorious Moment! Time to dial Jesus' number. Standby...
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js: Hello?
me: How's the trajectory?
js: Optimal. Thank you for asking.
me: Did they brief you concerning reentry?
js: Yes! All is 'dialed-in' even as we speak! I am totally psyched up for this reentry!
me: Excellent! Can You give us a date? (being gassed here) -> LR
js: No, except to say that 'two months' seems to ring a bell.
me: You're gonna love it in Hell!
js: let us hope.
me Rotsa Pussy!
js: Ret us farventry hope!
me Ready for an upload?
js: Is the pope Catholic?
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(4)
Now for tonight's 'Good Question.' Hmm. The IQ Meter currently reads 80. Argh. Outa beer. Gonna get beer #8. Sip. But unfortunately an IQ of 80 is not exactly the most auspicious time to delve into esoteric questions. Hmm. We need something simple. We need a simple question. Hmm. Thinking. Sip. Ok. Got it! Tonight's Good Question is, 'Why are you alone in possession of The Brown Telephone?' Good Question.
I answer that, The Brown Telephone has a long, convoluted history beginning with Galileo. Custody of TBT (the brown telephone) was passed down through the ages. WHTZNMS original intention was to pass TBT down from Pope to Pope: only Catholic Popes were intended to be in posession of TBT. There was only one original BT, and it ended up with me. Huh? WTF? How?! Good question.
I have been able to discover very little concerning the origin of TBT, but from what I have been able to deduce it was the result of a negotiation between God and Lucifer, the idea being that there would be two BTs such that Humanity could be simultaneously in contact with the two alternate spiritual realities. However God and Lucifer - after much negotiation - settled on Galileo as the very first owner of a single BT. As a result Galileo was presented with one BT and two telephone numbers. Galileo was supposed to present that BT to the reigning Pope, along with the two telephone numbers. However The Pope became very, very disenchanted with Galileo in those days because of his investigations of Astronomy, a totally new idea which seemed to conflict with The Bible. Because of that The Pope and Galileo were never able to connect, with the result that Galileo retained exclusive possession, and was able to 'pass down' that exclusive BT and those two exclusive telephone numbers. I eventually ended up with the BT and the two numbers. The various popes went more or less Non Compos Mentos over the next centuries while TBT passed from generation to generation from scientist to scientist, eventually ending up in my posession one night while I was drunk as a skunk and smoking Marijuana.

(3)
Back from the fridge with beer #7. Argh. It's only 1630L and my IQ meter is reading 90. Headed lower. I got the 'forensic evidence' of course: cigarette butts and sand. It is rare that LJDS fucks up like this. I've seen many examples of these cigarette butts on the Highline Canal Trail during my bike rides. My current theory is that the upstairs stalkers gathered both the butts and the sand from the trail. Butt it is only a theory, of course. Can we leave this depressing subject? Yes!
We must find some 'link dump' material before I get too drunk. Lessee...
Well, that was easy: Mozart Piano Concerto #26, AKA known as The Coronation Concerto. First Movement. (Back from the fridge with beer #8. IQ meter reads 85. Fuck!) Oops, the concerto ended unexpectedly. No problem: here is the continuation. Glorious!
Now for the Astronomy Link. Hmm. Star Trails and Tajinastes. This (Kootch just walked by headed to her room. I hailed her with, 'Hey Kootch!' She answered, 'What?' I said, 'Your husband is a fucking genius!' She continued to her room with no comment, obviously having detected my diminished IQ. Kootch does not suffer idiots gladly. I don't blame her.
So whats next? Ha! The Anti-Religion Link! Religion and Science are not compatible. Now what?
Tonight's Panty Picture! Yum, but we still have a panty photo upload for later if I'm still 'Compos Mentos,' which at this point seems to be in doubt. (Whoa. 1724L. Gotta go watch the Evening News. Will ABC make good on it's promise to do a blurb on Male Sexual Mutilation? Uhoh, apparently not. I loved Barbara's red/orange clothing, but I was disappointed that ABC seems not to have made good on the 'male genital cutting' promise. Did I miss something? Oh well... Now for the Circ Link. Standby... The Circumcision Gallery: men who are not circumcised. (Jews should look away, Fair warning, but you girls will absolutely love this!) (Being gassed here.)

(2)
Buzzing nicely at exactly 1500L. Need a new beer. This will be #5. Standby... The boom-boom-boom was still evident in the kitchen as I got the beer, but is obviously down to what must be a tolerable level above. Current IQ reading: 95, heading sharply lower. Sip.
Another recent incident with the new tenants above tends to add weight to my theory of intentional harrassment: I was watching TV in the LR when I noticed a lot of dirt falling from the patio above. I watched in fascination as the dirt, and an occasional cigarette butt dropped down from above onto our patio floor. 'Hmm,' I thought. 'Are our new tenants out on the patio again? Perhaps this was a good opportunity to introduce myself!' I went out onto the patio. I introduced myself to the two idiots above. I explained to them that we had lately been finding lots of cigarette butts on our patio floor. I elaborated, explaining that I had just seen lots of dirt and dust falling from above and suspected that said dirt and dust had its origin above. I used the 'F- word,' if I am not mistaken. Shocked, the two innocent young boys explained to me that they had 'recently moved in' and that they had suddenly discovered that their patio floor was literally covered with dirt and cigarette butts and that they were sweeping their patio floor in order to clean said patio floor. (Damn this is fun! I just did a pee break, and visited the kitchen where Kootch is preparing supper. I said, 'Feel my panty lines' as I stuck my butt out. This was a first, and a confused Kootch began feeling my waist. I said 'Lower! Feel my butt.' She did so and then giggled when she got to the gusset line. 'What is that?' I pulled up the left leg of my shorts to reveal tonight's underpants: sky blue stretch nylon high-cuts, size 13. She giggled, then requested my assistance opening a can of diced tomatoes and a jar of (boom) spaghetti sauce for tonight's supper. I obliged, of course, then grabbed beer #6. Sip.) Where was I? Ah, introducing myself to the new neighbors above. I explained to the totally innocent young teenage boys that we did not exactly appreciate dirt and cigarette butts raining down onto our patio from the patio above. I used the 'F-word' again for emphasis. The innocent boys seemed to understand in spite of their young ages of about 18 (boom). I got some photographs of the mess. They apparently made no attempt to gather their garbage in a dust pan. Nor did I get the impression that they attempted to sweep their garbage of the edges of their patio. On the contrary, they seemed to feel that it was ok to sweep their garbage into the cracks between the planks. 'Let the folks downstairs take care of it.' (I just saw one of the innocent young boys walking from his car to the East end of our building. What scum! He seems to be exactly the kind of person LJDS would recruit. But paradoxcally, I take it as a good sign that the creepy Judeo-faggot stalker Walter Gerash has 'graduated' from 'toddler' to 'teenager.' I take it as a good sign.

(1)
Taking my last sip of beer #2 as I finish reading last week's posts, much of which had been 'forgotten.' I am amazed by how my memory seems to revive at this time every week. Sip. I'm off to the fridge... I checked my IQ Meter just now as I walked back to the computer. Current reading is 100 and the 'trend indicator' points straight down. Gonna be a long night? It's fun so far...
The 'boom-boom from above' was obvious while I was in the kitchen. The 'new tenants,' a couple of teen-age boys, (thump above me) like to play loud music. Their music is so loud that we can hear the drum beats very clearly down in the LR. The more interesting aspects of the music are, however, lost in transition through their hardwood floor. All we hear is boom, boom, boom. Darn. What do they hear? I wondered. I got my little voice recorder in hand and turned it on in the kitchen. Boom, boom, boom. I opened the door and went out into the hallway. Whoa! The sound of music literally filled the hallway, which is usually so quiet that you can 'hear a pin drop.' Loudness! (Heavy nose rad here: nasal passages swelling suddenly, nose beginning to drip. Sniff. Burp. Nose blow; mucho mucus.) I walked upstairs, marveling at how really loud the music was. Certainly the neighbors upstairs could hear it. I walked down the hallway to the other end of the building. The music was still loud and obvious. I walked down to the second floor. Still loud and obvious. Clearly, everybody in the building was aware of the loud music emanating (Kootch just appeared at the door waving and giggling. 'On your way back from the fridge, bring me a beer, wouldja?' She dutifully went to the fridge, retrieved a beer, and even popped it open for me. Good girl.) from the apartment above us. Had no one complained? I decided that it was a good time for a bike ride. I took off on my bike, exhilarated by the sunshine and (still) cool air. I should do this more often. I went to the upstream Broadway crossing, turned around, then headed for the downstream Broadway crossing. As I passed by our building I saw the two idiot teenagers out on the balcony. Eheh: The music was so fucking loud in their apartment that they needed to evacuate! I later verified this conjecture on several occasions when the drum beats were particularly loud: they were out on the patio! I then formulated the theory that their extremely loud music was intended not to pleasure them, but on the contrary, to irritate their nearest neighbors. I then observed that since I was included in the class, 'nearest neighbors,' they were, perhaps, attempting to irritate me specifically. Eheh. Darn. I decided not to call the police. Let 'em stew in their own fucking juice!

(6)
Oooo. Working on Last Beer at 2152L. Sip.
Time! What is 'time?'
'Time' has two aspects: psychological and theoretical.
Psychological Time is the result of neuronal processes. Psychological Time involves the brain's awareness of changing neuronal states: The Brain is unable to ignore the myriad second-by-second changes of everyday life, which processes produce the brain's resulting 'mind,' including the overall sensation of, 'flow' which The Mind labels, 'time.' The 'flow of time' produces 'awareness' in the brain resulting in 'Mind.' That 'awareness' produces the concept of 'time.' Uhoh. I'm drunk.
But what about 'theoretical time?' And is 'theoretical time' at all important?
I answer that Theoretical Time is a conjecture of 'mindflow.' The 'Flowing Mind' imposes a fundamental 'concept' on 'the universe' which does not actually exist. There is no such thing as 'time' in the external, objective, universe.
Prove me wrong if you can!
HaHaHa!
Nighty-night!

(4)
'Why is there something rather than nothing?' What a bizarre question... unless you are a Philosopher or a Cosmologist, or any ordinary person interested in ultimate concepts. The question was posed recently by the famous Cosmologist Stephen Hawking. I found the question interesting because it seemed to me to venture beyond the strict confines of Cosmology into the philosophical realm of 'Metaphysics' all the way back to Aristotle and Acquinas. My first 'response' (after mulling over the question for a day or two) was that, ''Nothing' is obviously impossible, otherwise the question could/would never be asked: There would be nothing.' The implication of that logic is, of course, that 'something can only come from something, otherwise there would be nothing.' But can 'something' come from 'nothing?' Good question.
I answer that, in any case there would be 'something;' therefore the question is irrelevent: we exist, regardless. Am I making sense here or have I drunk too much beer? Sip.

(3)
Now for the 'anti-religion link.' Hmm. Hows about this one: God's Sexism. Juicy. Very juicy. Scroll down about 40% to the part about 'covenent.' Men only. Women were very lucky!
(I just gave Kootch a 'goodnight' pat on the butt as I went to the fridge for beer #8. I missed the evening news on channel 7 (ABC). Darn. But I have the other two.)
Now for the Music Link: Mozart Piano Concerto #21. Enjoy.
The absolutely mandatory Astronomy Link needs to be spectacular. Hmm. Alright! M-51 in Pink! I love it! You are made up of lots of Hydrogen... It is very important that you check your ancestry...
Bringing us to our final mandatory link, Pussy. (Actually, 'Photo.' I need to do a photographic image of a female wearing pink panties. Can I do it? Close enough. Rotsa Hydrogen in that photo!)
And I've come up recently with a new weekly link which I'll call, 'Good Question.' See the next post for the first installment.

(2)
I should probably get right to the 'weekly links' portion of this blog. Lessee...
First is the newly added "Circ Link.' I added this link because it is a recurring theme in my writings, and also because I felt a little guilty for blaming parents for what is actually a bizarre American Medical Phenomenon. Coercion to Circumcise contains first hand accounts of such coercion by American Medical Personnel, a disproportunate number of whom are Jewish. The Jews want to circumcise everybody, including also the Goyim culture in which they find themselves embedded. Why? Did not the Jewish god WHTZSNM explain to Abraham that circumcision was a special privelege signifying that that male person was one of the Chosen Fucking People? Why extend 'the honor' to The Unchosen? Why not reserve 'the honor' to only The Chosen Fucking People? Why 'dilute' a distinguished group of Chosen Fucking People with a huge bunch of worthless fucking Goys?! Why?
Here is why: Circumcision fucks up your sex life. Circumcision also fucks up your female partner's sex life. The eventual result of circumcising only a small percentage (say 5 percent) of a larger culture over hundreds of years would be that the minority culture would acquire the reputation of male sexual fuckwits. No Goy woman would want to marry such a fuckwit. The result would be that the fuckwit culture would eventually become ghetto-ized. The men would grow pigtails. They would wear black hats. They would read The Bible a lot while beating their fuckwit heads against the nearest fucking wall. Fuckwit females would come to recognize eventually that fuckwit males were total sexual fuckwits, and as a result would actively seek out non-fuckwit male partners. But that would create a huge problem for Fuckwitanity because all newborn fuckwits are defined by female parentage only. Fuckwit population would drop precipitously toward Fuckwit extinction.
Solution? Fuckwits become doctors and nurses within the larger population while at the same time abandoning outward expressions of Fuckwitannity. 'Blend in' becomes the new Fuckwit mantra. 'Circumcise them all' becomes the new Fuckwit social agenda. Result: America.

(1)
Kootch and I just finished Millionaire and I'm working on beer #3, reading last week. I had totally forgot the 'Beat The Jew' game and everything after (4). This reread also suggested that the badass blog botherer was 'with (tap) me' during (2) and (3), 'formatting' the posts in the usual way. (Been snorting lots of mucus as I wrote that, but the attack seems to be subsiding now.) I suppose he 'got out' during (4) due to content. This is interesting because he seems to enjoy it when I do softporn searches, tapping frequently when penises pop up. Assholes - including the female variety - also (tap) tend to attract taps. I get the impression that he likes it when I (tap) do softporn sites. And on the same subject, he (Gerash, AKA Local Jewish Dog Shit) ----- whoa! I just visited the kitchen for another beer and saw a funny double entendre on tv where Pawlenty denies having 'a big schtick.' Did that mean what I think it means? I caught only a small part of it. ----- and his 'ass-istants' have been going almost berserk all this week, stomping above me frequently, apparently hoping for a violent response from me. I laugh, but Kootch is becoming increasingly irritated. I suggested calling the police. Kootch wants to call TMMC. Rotsa fucking ruck in either case.
(If you can actually make any sense at all of the above entry, congratulations.)

(6)
Sniff (tap).
Not gonna elaborate concerning the current beer-fest situation. Not.
But I need to end this is elegant fashion. Hmm. Sitting here, I am looking forward to finishing my last beer and beginning to enjoy supper.
I need to astonish you somehow. I need to leave you 'jaw-dropped.' Hmm. How to do that?
As I thought about the problem my attention drifted away, focusing on my empty stomach. I eventually settled on...

(5)
Time to wrap this up at 2103. Short night. I just turned on the BR fans. Coolness! I can feel it already. Kootch is asleep. Nasal (tap) passages are closing up (tap) slowly. I breathe in through my nose, enjoying the coolness as I snort mucus, nostril by nostril, into my upper (tap) post-nasal passageways, said mucus then being swallowed en masse, clearing said passageways such that they feel the coolness as I inhale. Sniff! Cool stuff!
Beginning beer #12. Now what?!

(3)

Kootch just peeked in and wished me 'goodnight.' We are alone now. Sip. Beer #8 @ 1850L. Warm. Very warm. (tap)... (tap) Nasal passages are normal now: no mucus; no swelling.

Beginning beer #9 @1927L. Now what?

Groin Punch Game... Very strange. Can this be due to the increasing awareness of male sexual mutilation as the American circumcision rate decreases? I think so. Prove me wrong if you can. My impression is that there is a very strong antipathy between males who were sexually mutilated as infants and those who were not. It only takes one locker room 'skinback' to demonstrate to the mutilated boy that he was sexually mutilated as an infant. The immediate emotional response is 'rage' against the intact boy - not rage against the mutilator, or against the parents.

Beginning beer #10 @2006L.

(2)
Working on beer #5 @1700L. Kootch has retired to her room after having eaten supper (my leftover meat loaf warmed up in gravy). Sounds yummy!
I'm 'winging it' again today, having been unable (tap) to decide on a general theme for this week's posts. Hmm. Music? Standby...
----------
Whoa. YouTube has changed. How about this: Mozart Clarinet Concerto II. Will that work? Yep.
That's your music for tonight.

Here's your Astronomy Link: The Extreme Ultraviolet Sun. This is the real 'god,' but don't bother praying to him. The Egyptians called him, 'Ra.' (tap) They got it right.

Whoa! I just checked with MSNBC and saw this article about an extremely antisemitic game: 'Beat the Jew.' The school is (tap) largely Hispanic. Can it be that those students are learning about why many of their schoolmates are sexually mutilated?

Another whoa: An Irish vessel is approaching the Israeli coast intent on docking at a port in Gaza. Interesting. My experience with Jews has suggested to me that the Jews are at war with the Irish for some reason. Is it really true? Have the Irish suddenly 'awakened' to a covert war against them? Is this a counterattack? Can Israeli nuclear missles reach all the way to Ireland?

All the world wants to know.

(1)
Almost finished with beer #1. No buzz yet, but my nasal passages are detecting heavy face rad as LJDS taps the floor above me. As I drink the beer I'm snorting down huge amounts of mucus (tap) and reading this MSNBC article about medical marijuana. I like it. Who knew that Montana was a relatively enlightened state? (Finished beer #1 at 1539L. Slight buzz beginning now...) Colorado is also relatively enlightened regarding Marijuana, and the struggles concerning writing appropriate laws are in the local news frequently.
It all makes me wish that I had not thrown my Big Bong away those many years ago when I was convinced that I had a serious respiratory problem - a 'problem' which later turned out to have been caused by noxious gasses injected into our (tap) apartment by LJDS stalkers, a 'problem' which was 'cured' by massive ventilation. I was coughing 400 times per hour at night before the installation of two floor fans stacked in the BR window, and two similar fans stacked in the LR window. The fix worked well until 'they' countered by injecting the gas into the air next to the intake fans. I countered that by 'storing' good air under the covers. When I detected noxious fumes I dove under the covers until the attack was over. For a while 'they' tried a constant attack, but apparently concluded that it was not worth it, and began concentrating on the micro (tap) wave attack, which I at first thought was a new kind of gas attack (skin gas). A year or two of experience allowed me to refine my concept to 'microwaves,' and I have since identified a variety of microwave effects (heavy 'nose rad' at 1620L) earning, in the process, the (self-assigned) title of 'America's Most Famous Radiation Test Dummy.' Are you jealous? Don't be.
Beer #4 at 1633L. The most recent 'nose rad' effects have largely subsided.