daily scratchpad

(6)
Last beer. We need to do the chess game. Standby...

1. d4 d5
2. c4 dc
3. Nf3 b5
(Having gained an extra pawn the opponent seeks to secure it. Very common.)
4. a4 b4
5. e4 bb7
6. bc4 Be4
7. Bf7+ Kf7
8. Ng5+ Ke8
9. Ne4 Qd5
10 Qf3 Qc6
11. O-O
Another example of Judeo-Faggot interference has totalled my vision and understanding of this game. Gotta wrap it all up. Goodnight and good luck.

(5)
Bringing us to beer #11. I need to wrap this up before I run out of beer. I decided to call Jesus on the Brown Telephone.
----------
js: Hello?
me: Think back to your first resurrection. What was the first thing you saw?
js: My right hand. Why do you ask?
me: Just curious. Ready for an upload?
js: Is the pope Catholic?
(I upload the most recent series of photos.)
js: Chocolate and French Vanilla! Yum!
me: You have very good taste.
js: I know, but thank you anyway.
me: Do you have Daddy's number?
js: Of course.
me: Give him a call. Tell Him that He blew a recent chance to nail me as I walked from the car to the building between two tall trees.
js: You are so naughty!
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(4)
I think that Mark was Gerash's first total fuckup. I think that Gerash was out to destroy our family (familial warefare) and that he 'arranged' for Mark and Kathy to 'get connected.' Mark was not the first 'candidate' in that regard, two previous other 'suitors' being irritating Jews. But Mark was perfect: good-looking, mild personality, counter-culture... we all loved Mark from the beginning. Mark Sandstrom was Walter Gerash's biggest mistake. Mark turned us on to Acid.
Oh... My... God!
Acid (LSD) Stunned me in every way, especially 'epistemologically.' I did Acid knowing a lot about perception, religion, psychology, philosophy, chemistry, astronomy... but not brain chemistry. Acid 'rearranged' my brain chemistry. Booze, marijuana, and other chemicals 'rearrange' your brain chemistry too, of course, but the 'Acid Test' actually 'destroyed my brain' in some sense, temporarily, by rearranging brain chemistry in a particularly drastic manner.
I died. I had done too much Acid. Dumbass me.
Then I noticed a human hand right in front of my eyes. Was it my hand? I thought so. I sent it a message to move. It moved! Mind over matter! I then witnessed something most of you readers out there will never see: my resurrection from nothing into a fully functional human being. I had, in a very literal sense, risen from the dead!
But that fact was merely an historical point as I observed myself being reassembled from scratch. I became more and more powerful minute by minute. My power extended far beyond mere sensory observation. I discovered other beings like me! I discovered communication. I discovered emotion. I slowly discovered an entire universe! The process took several hours and was extremely 'mystical.' The net result of that experience was that I changed my 'world model' from Atheism to Mysticism: the world was much more complex than the Atheists imagined. I became a 'scientific mystic.' What is a 'scientific mystic'? An Atheist scientist who has done LSD, rising from the dead, observing the entire process.

(3)

Working on beer #6 at 1750L. Missing the Evening News. Beginning beer #7 at 1800L. Boy this is fun! Where was I? Ah! Doing Acid!
Our oldest daughter, Kathleen, had hooked up with a fellah name of Mark Sandstrom. Mark was a pleasant fellow who did certain drugs, namely Marijuana and LSD. Mark turned us all on to Marijuana. Awesome stuff! We all loved it. I found it to be very synergistic with booze. It had a 'de-irritant' effect which totally mellowed me out. I would lose all interest in booze and become totally interested in food instead, after smoking a little Marijuana. Furthermore, Marijuana would destroy all and any anger which booze might have generated within the concurrent social situation. Marijuana destroyed anger, especially booze-amplified anger! Blessed Ganja! Hooray for Medical Marijuana! Do you drink too much? Do you become angry and aggressive when you drink booze? Do you want to enjoy booze but cancel out anger? Smoke Marijuana! Marijuana is the cure, folks. I still have painful memories of how I would 'chew out' Keiko as I became buzzed on beer and how I would then become so blissed out by a few tokes of Ganja that I would almost tearfully apologize to poor Kootch whom I had just recently verbally abused. I strongly recommend Marijuana, folks. Grow your own! It's fun!

(2)
Returning to last week's account of my first encounter with the Arapahoe County Criminal Justice System, the incident with the BB gun was only one of several strange 'happenings' (tap above me). When we first moved in we immediately noticed that somebody had 'walked across the floor of our garage' leaving his footprints in the wet cement. Irritating. We could probably have had the builders replace the cement floor for free, but decided not to complain. Then there was the previously mentioned cop incident, as a result of which we built a fence. Then we planted a lawn. At the first green blush of grass, the girl next door 'fell on the ground' next to our front entrance, causing fairly deep indentations in the soft moist dirt. The family was Jewish, I would learn much later. The grown grass eventually covered the disfigurement. No problem, but it was irritating at the time. Around that time some 'ass hole' drove his car up onto our newly flowering front lawn and did a 360 on it, further disfiguring the new lawn. The marks eventually disappeared under the lush green grass, but were very irritating at the time. Soon after I bought my 10 inch reflector telescope and built my 'roll-off' observatory in the back yard, the County built a street lamp virtually in our front yard! Very irritating. We made them mask off the parts which illuminated our house, but the 'light pollution' destroyed our dark sky. The dark sky was further destroyed by neighbors in the condos beyond our back fence positioning bright lights such that shined directly into our back yard, illuminating the 'observatory.' It seemed that we were under attack. Why? I eventually complained to the condo occupants to no avail. They were also Jewish, by the way. Eventually the phone began ringing. When we answered, nobody would be there. We began disconnecting the phone at night. And by that time we were doing Acid! Yes! OMG!

(1)
Just finished b#1 as I got caught up a bit on current events MSNBC-wise. Buzz beginning after 15 minutes of sipping. Beginning beer #2, remembering last weeks entries only dimly. Lessee, I was quite angry remembering how I was 'set up' and then zapped in the wallet by Gerash and his tribal associates. There was also a link dump. Then there was a disasterous chess game that, as I recall was abandoned due to terminal drunken confusion... OK. I am ready for this. Standby while I read last week's entries... Sip... Ok, Pretty much as I 'remember...' The 'chess game' was rife with notation errors. you chess players out there no doubt caught that. I will repeat the experiment this week, this time with a chess board in front of me and a note pad for the moves. I like the idea, because I first began 'blogging' while drinking beer after playing a weekly tournament chess game at the Denver Chess Club: I would buy some beer on the way home, then drink the beer as I replayed and analyzed the game, recording it on my Apple Computer's floppy disk along with some comments - using, of course, my home grown version of (going for beer #4) a cryptographic word processor I called, Word Salad. I'll do the chess game when I'm appropriately drunk.

(6)
Working on my last beer. Time to wrap this up for tonight. Hmm... Ok. Got it. Chess game! Gerash was driving me home from a chess tournament in Colorado Springs! (Being gassed and irridiated here with Nose Rad.) Why not create a new weekly scenerio: 'Tonight's Chess Game'?! Alright! I love it!
Standby... Flash Chess III. I will now play (live) and comment on such a game. Whoa... I have chosen the highest possible category because I know from experience that this game is essentially 'pussy chess.' That is to say that this game is like a 20 year old gloriously beautiful woman wearing only pink nylon panties beaconing to a 16 year old uncircumcised boy in heat: She will be Gentle! She will be irresistable!
I will make the moves and then comment. You young boys and girls out there should pay attention. You might learn something. I am 'white' and therefore I will make the first move.
----------
1. e4 d5 (An agressive reply!) (Damn. Outa beer... Grrr...)
2. ed Qd5 (Recouping...)
3. Nc3 (attacking) Qe4+ (counterattacking)
4. Be2 e6
5. Nf3 Qf6
6. D4 Bb4
7. O-O Bc3
8. bc3 Nd7
9. Bg5 Qf5
10. Bd3 Qd5
11. c4 Qf6
12. Re h6
13. d5 Qc5
14. de hg
15. ed7+ ed7
16. Be4+ Qd6
17. Rats. I have totally screwed this up. End of 'experiment.'
Time to 'sign out.' See you all next week. Nighty-night!

(5)
I should mention at this point that I was later called (tap) to jury duty in a federal case of a dentist accused of inappropriate drug prescribing. I was predisposed emotionally to acquit, of course, and I eventually voted that way. Turned out that the other jurors followed my lead, and the dentist in question was acquited. One juror called my judgement, 'A travesty.' I didn't realize it at the time, but my reasoning during juror discussions apparently prevailed: we decided that the government had failed to prove, 'intent.' Our decision was 'logical' (as opposed to 'emotional.') even though I - Having done Ganja and LSD - was emotionally disposed to acquit. So my later advisement that I was 'unfit for jury duty' was based on firm evidence. I was telling the truth. They believed me, until recently, when I got a new 'jury notice.'
Was 'Mr. Gentile' a link in the chain of Arapahoe County's 're-evaluation' of my qualifications?
Who knows? I suspect. Maybe we shall see...
On the way back from Colorado Springs after a chess tournament I was alone with Gerash in Gerash's car. He was driving us both back to Denver. The conversation drifted to Jury duty. I boasted that I had been instrumental in the acquital of a dentist (tap) accused of 'drug pedalling.' Gerash replied that he was aware of that trial. 'You acquited,' he said.
Why would he know that?!
Gerash thereby became a prominent figure (tap) in my consciousness. He dropped me off at I-25 and Arapahoe Road. Kootch picked me up later. Interestingly, Gerash had picked me up before the tournament at I-25 and Arapahoe road! Hmm.
I would later conjecture that Gerash was all-too-familiar with our home at 7152 S. Franklin Street, and was anxious to avoid informing me that he knew where I lived.

(4)
The filthy (tap) cop was lying. Why?
Confident that I had a good defense I hired a cheap lawyer. Eheh. At Arraignment I pled 'not guilty' and stated to the judge that I would like a 'trial by judge' (instead of a 'trial by jury'). I reasoned that 12 idiots might not see the obvious truth, but that a seasoned professional would see the truth immediately and acquit me. Wrong! The judge's demeanor changed instantly, suggesting anger. It was a warning sign. I ignored it. Dumb.
My Jewish lawyer turned out to be a piece of Jewish Dog Shit at trial. The Jewish procecutor offered me a 'deferred prosecution' (or something like that). I insisted on a trial because I knew that I was innocent and I thought that the judge would see that immediately. Wrong again! Moreover, my 'lawyer' failed to explain to me exactly what a 'deferred prosecution' was.
The Jewish prosecutor attacked me. My Jewish lawer just sat there on his dumb fucking Jewish ass. The filthy Jewish bastard (tap) didn't lift a finger to defend me! And I was paying him 700 fucking dollars! The filthy Jewish judge found me guilty and ordered me to pay a huge fine (700 (more) dollars?). I paid. The monetary loss totalled our savings. We skimped.
It was at that point that I began to reason it all out: Jews hated me. Why? Were jews and Irish secretly at war? Sounded bizarre.
I would much later discover that I was being stalked by a filthy Jewish queer name of Walter Gerash, and that he was using his tribal connections against me. I later became convinced that where there was no tribal connection, the filthy rich Jew used money.

(3)
Beginning beer #8 @ 1806L. No booze backup. Gonna have to ration the remaining 4 beers. Buzzing nicely at the moment...
Began a new game of C-III this week, #25 (?).
Dodged a bullet this week too: I was scheduled to appear for 'Jury Duty' monday morning. Yuk. So Sunday night I did research on the web concerning my obligation of citizenship. This led to a phone number. I reluctantly made the call. Wowza! My juror number was so high that I was among those few citizens excused! Alright! Whew. The last time I did jury duty was many years ago. I was in a room filled with hundreds of people. We were all given questionaires. There was a 'comments' section. I wrote that I was not a good juror prospect because I had no faith in the ACSD Criminal Justice System. Some time later a handful or two of people were directed to report to a room. My name was among that group. I was told that I had been excused and was free to go. Alright! (Just finished current beer. Gonna wait a while...)
My 'excuse' was based on actual experience with the ACSD and the CJS: Back in the early '70s I was 'arrested' in my back yard (faint boom) by an ACSD cop who was off duty acting as a security guard. I was shooting daisies at the time for lack of a better target. We had recently moved into our new home at 7152 S Franklin Street. The cop walked into our (unfenced at the time) back yard. Irritating. The cop then accused me of shooting out some windows in the new condo structures being constructed near our house. Not true! I denied the charge. The cop then took me to a nearby building under construction and showed me window damage suggesting a BB gun was involved. I denied doing the damage. The filthy ACSD cop then stated that he had witnessed me shooting (2 bonks above) in the direction of the damage. He then confiscated my BB gun and charged me with 'Malicious Mischief.' Unbelievable. (tap)

(2)
Rereading last week's posts just now I spotted a possibly misleading phrase concerning 'red residue.' The implication was that Shiro had injured my feet to the point that they had actually bled. Not so. The 'red residue' was blood from Shiro's feet, and was located near my head. Shiro's 'grooming' had not injured me at all, and she had done a perfect job on my feet. It amazes me that she was able to sense the abnormality of that hard dry skin and use her natural gnawing instinct to 'groom me.' She didn't touch my nails at all. Rats are lovely little pets. Also, Shiro might be the only rat I ever slept with all night. At one time I had about 20 rats, and I would occasionally put them all under the covers (rats absolutely need 'cover') and get in there with them. They would joyfully run around all over me under there, pooping occasionally. After we had all had our fun I would put them back in their cages and dispose of the poops. I would give the young ones to the pet shop when they were old enough. Tearful times. Some of those friendly riddle rats no doubt got adopted, but some of them no doubt ended up as snake food (tap).
And concerning (5) below, this was the result of having drunk the last of my Canadian Mist. No more CM for tonight. This will be a 12 beer night, and my previous experience tells me that tomorrow's hangover will be 'more gentle.'

(1)

Just finished beer #1 and narry a buzz. I guess 'lunch first' (heavy nose rad, much sneezing -> LR)... might have been too much lunch? No... slight buzz now at the beginning of beer #2. BTW, lunch was sliced avocado partially dipped in soy sauce, and a small bowl of lowfat cottage cheese with a couple tablespoons of salsa mixed in. Kootch and I did Millionaire while we ate. Looks like a totally new series this week! Alright! Rink Dump follows:
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The Tale of a Lonely Outcast is a recent Intactivism News entry.
De-Baptism by blow dryer? I saw this one on Nightline. The guy doing the 'ceremony' was appropriately creepy in his monk's robes. Interestingly, his son is a fundamentalist preacher.
(buzzing nicely after beer#2 @1538L)
Vatican invents new sin: Ordaining women. Most of us don't have to sweat this one. Thank god.
The Cost of Being Jewish. Hmmm! Or this one. Who knew?
The Periodic Table of Irrational Nonsense sums up this brief excursion into a very broad subject, at least for tonight. Highly recommended. Most of you will find yourselves in there somewhere. Keep looking. Now for something closer to reality:
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The most obese star? I've called Her, 'Debuchan.' Most of the ingredients of 'you' were expelled into the universe from her 'womb.'
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Which brings us into the realm of Huh?: Is Time Disappearing From the Universe? Maybe. Maybe not.
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We now enter the practical realm: Health Care: What does your doctor write about you in hir notes, and why can't you read those notes? Hmm? Hmm? Why?
Botox Paralyzes Your Emotions Too. Interesting! Could Walter Gerash be helped psychologically by facial botox injections? Go for it, Wally!
How to Handle a Cyberstalker. Or, Why I am not on Facebook, Twitter, etc. Why? I already have enough stalker problems.

(5)
Uh-oh. I am arriving at this point much too late tonight. Darn. I need to do a traditional rink dump before signing off. Hmm. (Brogger has the usual server problems at this point. I ruv Brogger. Brogger ruvs me. We ruv us. Kootch is now oblivious, asleep, but we ruv us too. Ruv is eternal...)
I've reached the point of (?). This brings us to Tonight's Good Question: 'Why does modern (current) opinion fail to understand the real nature of our collective existential dilemma? Why?
I answer that 'opinion' is equivant to 'normalcy.' It is the nature of 'opinion' to not understand important issues. Opinion sucks in that 'opinion' is so ordinary: Everyfuckingbody has a dumbass opinion! All those dumbass opinions are based on R-brain activity. That is to say, all 'opinions' are emotional in nature, totally lacking in logical substrate. The eventual result of all that is that human progress is seen to be essentially irrational (emotional), not logical.
There is never any question concerning the 'logical' value of 'opinion' because it is at all times obvious that 'opinion' is illogical but emotional.

(3)
Not that I don't love rats. Really. My most glorious pets have been my pet rats! I loved them so much! I've even slept with them on many occasions. Really. They loved being under the covers with me. Several of them actually nipped me on the tip of my foreskin (through my panties) on such occasions, apparently as a signal that they knew I was male. Their 'nips' were obvious but not at all painful. I never discovered the identity of the culprit(s). I named my favorite rat of all time, 'Yum-yum' because whenever I lifted her to my face with both hands she would give the tip of my nose two quick licks. I suspect that the nippy culprit was Yum-yum, but I was never able to prove it.
I don't recommend that you sleep with your pet rats unless you are able to tolerate rots of rat poop. Rat poop comes in little brown packages which tend not to contaminate your underpants. My most famous 'sleep-in' was with my only white rat, a female named , 'Shiro' (white). Shiro was a nearly blind albino (tap). Shiro was, as a result, an extremely nervous little rat, who tended to dig her claws into my arms whenever I would pick her up. The result of that was that I would put little Shiro on my 'raticure,' which was a long round (Beer #6 @ 1920L after the last half inch of Canadian Mist. Sip!) container (Pringles?) on which I had glued fine sandpaper. I would put the sharply offending rittle rat on the 'raticure:' the rittle rat would dig in with its claws in an attempt to keep from falling off. I would then grab the riddle rat by the tail and drag the rittle rat by the tail. The result would be that the rittle rat would 'dig in,' attempting to stay in prace. The further result would be that the rittle Lat would destroy those offending nail points, and I could stay free from unintended rat nail injuries for about two weeks. Per rat.
But I screwed up one evening, dragging Shiro too far, the result being that she began bleeding from her nails (stomp). I was so sorry for Shiro. I took her to bed with me that night. It was a long night. Only Shiro and me. When I awoke next morning I found that Shiro had gnawed away all of the hard dried skin on both my heels! Glorious! There was a rittle led lesidue on the sheets, but WTF: Shiro had forgiven me!

(2)
Beginning (tap) beer #5 after some more water during the news. Bought Kootch some blueberries today. She loves them and they are supposed to be very good for you. (Face rad is causing mucho mucus flow. I use huge numbers of Bounty Select-a-size every day, some repeatedly.)
Woke up to 7 new cigarette (tap) butts on the patio this morning. My upstair's neighbors are not at all friendly folks. True, their music volume has been significiently lowered recently, but I think that the reason has little or nothing to do with me. (I have never complained about the loud music because my theory is that it hurts them much more than it hurts me.) But on a recent occasion of extreme 'street theater' I actually feared for the safety of one of the 'innocent young boys' living above me. Really.
Two days ago (Monday afternoon) as I entered the LR I could hear loud voices outside. I went to the patio door and noticed one of the innocent young teenagers standing on our balcony railing. I opened the patio door and inquired concerning his unusual situation. The innocent young boy replied that 'they had been locked out of their apartment.' Eheh. He further advised that he was attempting to climb up to the balcony above, intending to enter said apartment through the (ulocked) patio door, using the red straps hanging down from the patio above. I was much edified, of course, but I feared for his safety: He might fall and break his dumb fucking neck. In that case his mother would be forced to care for a paraplegic idiot for the rest of her natural life. Not a good outcome.
I pointed to the (sliding) ladder on our patio floor and suggested that it would be much safer if he used that ladder to climb up to the patio above. The innocent young boy declined my offer and began swinging on the red straps hanging from above. He made it up to the patio above. (Rats!) I observed some time later that the innocent young teenager had not appreciated my kindly offer at all: I opened the closed curtain and noticed him and his friends on the ground below. As I stared at them through my patio door, the innocent young man broke eye contact, leaned over, and spit - a universal sign of contempt.

(1)
Having got my obligations out of the way for this week and in the process having charmed the panties halfway off two young women today, I hereby declare tonight, 'booze night.' Kootch and I just finished today's Millionaire, during which I drank my first 3.2 Natural Light. Whoa. My body processed that can of moisture in such record time that I was buzzing my brains out by the end of the show. Diagnosis: dehydration. Treatment: drink water instead of beer. So... beer #2 will have to wait 'til I've drunk enough water. Sip.
I read last week's blog entries totally sober about three days ago and was mildly horrified as usual; I just reread them again, buzzed, and they make a little more sense now. Beginning beer #2 at 1600L. Sip. Water ain't so bad after all (but beer is better). I might even do another 16 ouncer if I get too buzzed too soon.
Concerning the two young women who's undies I targeted today, the first one was a hair stylist who was really good. As that became apparent during the haircut I said, 'You're really good at this.' She said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.' I said, 'You're really good at this' a little louder. Again she could not understand my rasping voice. After a minute or so she leaned closer and advised me that she still couldn't hear what I said. I repeated the phrase. Ah! She smiled in appreciation and I could almost feel her panties slip down a few inches. After the haircut (only 11 bucks) I gave her a 5 dollar tip, but could not detect any further slippage. She said, 'See you again in 4 weeks?' I answered, 'More like 8 weeks.' She smiled.
The other young woman was the Kaiser Permanente medical technician who was at the computer (thump above me) when I appeared for my 'protime' blood test. I was - as usual - days late. She seemed to have some difficulty reading what was written in my file. I thought, 'WTF do they write about me in there?!' She directed me to her 'stall' in the 'procedure room.' I waited for a short time. She soon appeared, acting very cool and business-like. It seemed to me that she needed a little 'panty-pull.' (stomp above me). As she slipped on her blue disposable gloves before beginning the procedure, I said something like, 'Aww, you're gonna hide those beautiful fingernails?' (the gloves protect the technician - not the patient, and she had painted her fingernails a beautiful shade of pink) She smiled for the first time and I could almost feel her panties slip down an inch or so. I then presented an arm, and she smeared some antibiotic (smells like alcohol) on the spot she wanted to puncture. Just before she jabbed me she issued some sort of warning (a first), then she jabbed me. No pain at all: she had missed all sensory nerves. I said, 'Very good! You missed all the nerves!' She smiled again and I could feel those panties slip down another notch. After withdrawing the needle she pressed a cotton ball against the wound and directed me to hold it tightly against my arm while she finished her procedure. She then unwound a length of 'stretchy, sticky' (face rad. nasal tissues swelling suddenly) wrap and - before wrapping it around my arm - withdrew the cotton ball. No bleeding at all. Satisfied, she wrapped me and bid me good day. I called her 'sweety' or 'honey' and left.
(Us 'old men' can always get away with that sort of thing because although the girls enjoy it they don't take us all that seriously. If I had tried this approach in high school I would probably not have remained a virgin until the age of 20. Damn!)

(8)
2340L as I read previous posts. I do not like the idea that I am 'ordinary.' I am not.
I am not at all 'ordinary.' I am exceptional. You know, I know, we know. And we know that, like me, you are not at all 'ordinary.' You are extraordinary like me.
But is this scenerio 'Egotistical?' Uhuh. Ego is a matter of self-evaluation.
Nighty-night! As I write this I am peeing in my pants and loving it. At the age of 75 I pee in my pants frequently for the sheer pleasure of it. Why wear a diaper? Pzzzz... sssss... I love it!
Good night and good luck.

(7)

Having introduced the concept of 'peeability' into our modern lexicon, it seems to me that I am now obligated to define the term. I will do so 'informally.' My definition follows below:
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Peeability: That quality of underwear which maximizes sensory experience in terms of visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and somatosensory qualities. (Kootch just walked past my doorway after peeing, and ignored me. It was my last chance to interact with her tonight. I said, 'Hey Kootch!' She sourly waved at me and went into her room and closed the door. What a woman!)
Which brings us to my definition:
There is minimal auditory involvement unless the peeing scenerio is superquiet.
There is minimal olfactory involvement unless the peeing scenerio is bi-sniffal, such that a cohort literally sniffs the panty-wet process and reports. Rare.
There is minimal gustatory involvement unless a partner literally sips surplus moisture as urination progresses. Also rare. Which brings us to the two most important qualities, visual and sensual.
The quality of visual intensity follows from the concept of 'contrast.'
The quality of sensual intensity follows from the change in sensation as warm pee floods the crotch of the peeee (the person peeing).
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(6)
Beginning beer #11 @ 2040L. I am uncomfortably sober. Uhoh. And my IQ still hovers above 100 @ 2045. Bad news for the Jews.
I bought some (no sugar added) French Vanilla ice cream today at KSW. Kootch sampled it and approved. The list of ingredients contained the word, 'Splenda.' Kootch loves 'Splenda.'
(Pounding on the floor upstairs just after I wrote the 'bad news for the Jews' (tap) sentence. Local Jewish Dog Shit above had been 'totally continent' previous to that 'bad news' entry. Oh well... 'Jewish Incontinence' is something I am forced to deal with on a moment-by-moment basis, day-after-day and night-after-night. I am - after all these years - quite good at it.)

I should probably add that my own 'incontinence' is quite pleasurable. Indeed, I love it! Butt I am dry at the moment. Hmm. I'm trying to remember what underpants I am now wearing... Hmm... Are they highly peeable? Damn. I can't remember... Lemme check... standby... Ha! Size 14 highcuts! I wore them today because the waistband is so large that unless I 'anchor' them under the tighter waistband of my shorts, they will slowly 'slip down' deliciously, eventually passing beyond my last resistance point, the head of my unmutilated penis. At that point I will be forced to declare that 'I have lost my underpants.' I will then pull them up under my shorts, and - depending on whether I want to repeat that sensual experience - I will position the waistband accordingly. Not very peeable, butt highly sensual.

(5)
Bringing us to the question (beginning beer #10 @ 2007L) of 'prayer:' If God is omniscient, what is the point of prayer? Why pray?
I answer that, God is the Ultimate Egotist. God loves 'being prayed to.' It makes Him feel so... 'Godlike.' I answer, furthermore, that God has a very, very, sensual godlike ass which totally loves being kissed by all and sundry sentient beings everywhere in The Universe. Indeed, God's Butt contains myriad sensory nerves which are designed to feed pleasure impulses to God's 'psyche' (for lack of a better term) as sentient beings all over The Universe attempt to Kiss God's Ass through the medium of 'prayer.'
That is my conjecture. I have no proof at all, butt it is a good question.

(4)
Beginning beer #9 @1927L. Sip. Time to irritate God. I dialed 666 on The Brown Telephone and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately.
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gd: Hello?
me: Creative Psychometry. Mean anything to you?
gd: Gibberish. Get to the point. You're drunk as a skunk and I am not in the mood to humor you tonight.
me: I have 'defined You!' Irritating?
gd: Very. What is your point?
me: You are one ignomatic muthafuck.
gd: Are you trying to insult me?
me: Of course! Why else would I call you?!
gd: I am a very busy God. Please get to the point, or I will hang up.
me: Are You Omniscient?
gd: Of course. Why do you ask?
me: QED.
gd: (hangs up)
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(2)
Back at 1802L after watching ABC News. Working on beer #6. Lemme check the 'interesting' file... Ahah! Philosophy... Yeesh? Not if you've been sober for a week. Really, it's actually interesting when your IQ passes upwards of 100 or so. Bored this morning, I checked into TPM Online, The Philosophers' Magazine. I was soon drawn to the subject of Interactive Activities. Interesting! I clicked on, Battleground God: 'Can your beliefs about religion make it across our intellectual battleground?' Whoa! How could I resist? I took the test. Very interesting! I made it across 'the battleground' more or less intact (eheh) although I thought at several points that I had detected one or more 'category mistakes' in the questions. (Beginning beer #7 @ 1837L. Sip.) I 'bit one bullet,' as I recall, and committed some or other inconsistency... but WTF: who's perfect? Certainly not me. In fact, I did all the entries under Interactive Activities, screwing up occasionally in every category except for the category, Do-It-Yourself Deity, where I got a 'perfect score!' Wowza! (To quote one of my favorite bloggers.) Did my perfect score actually demonstrate that I was the ultimate god-designer!? If so, this will come as bad fucking news to the Jewish god WHTZSNM. I can hardly wait to dial 666 on The Brown Telephone! God is gonna have a very, very, bad night tonight!

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Well folks, it's been a week since my most recent blogging venture featuring reduced alcohol intake. Time to report that the results were spectacular in terms of reduced hangover intensity and duration, if not blogging quality. Not only did the food delay the onset of inebriation, it provided the necessary nourishment, delaying the need for more beer sooner, resulting in a smoother decline in intelligence. I am repeating the same pattern this week; but today, before beginning the beer, I uploaded tonight's sexy photo. Easy as pie! There's something to be said for all this 'sobriety nonsense.' Try it for a week and you'll love it!
I began a new game of C-III this week. This will be game number 25 (or so) since I began saving the beginning, middle, and ending points. Why? Why not.
Lets get the rink dump out of the way first, shall we?
Idiotic Ayatolla Fires Off foolish Fatwa: Dogs are unclean, it seems:

'Friendship with dogs is a blind imitation of the West. There are lots of people in the West who love their dogs more than their wives and children.'

This 'fatwa' is, in my opinion, symptomatic of Semitic Penis Envy in general. The 'uncleanliness of dogs' is a concept rooted in unconscious penis envy of the intact organ. Jews in general share this prejudice, but Jews are much less openly hostile. Why? Islam is 'young and stupid' compared with Judaism, which has had 3000 years to reflect of its 'shortcomings' (eheh).

Iranian Embassy Denies Widow to be Stoned to Death: This is an article from MSNBC, which has recently totally revamped it glorious information machine and made it into an obnoxious, kluncky, advertisement machine. (Two big thumbs down on MSNBC's new format! Yuck.) The fact of the matter is that 'the West' has far more respect for both dogs and women than does Islam, one of the most bizarre 'religions' the world has ever had to endure. Even Judaism is preferable, and that's saying a lot.

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Butt you knew that, right?

Last sip of last beer @2055L. Suppertime. No whiskey tonight.

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Kootch got tired of my music and closed her bedroom door. She just sits there playing video games...

Rats! I missed the Evening News. Barf. ABC was the only 'casualty' I hope. Lessee... Ok, I just watched Ann Curry (yum!) do the NBC version. CBS will have to wait. During the broadcast I scribbled, 'Pussy!' on the back of an envelope, intending to remind me to post some or other sexy photo in my 'Interesting' file. so... lessee... Nothing works (stomp) at this time. Too drunk. Working on beer #9. Sip. 'Add Image' refuses to work. Is it time to wrap this up? Sip, sip.
Well, folks, it is at these times I am my most dangerous...

Zombie Sightings! Whoa. Zombie Day not far away!?

Orange Sun Simmering. Our local star in a good mood. Thank fucking god for that! Let us all hope fervently that that huge orange muthafuck never 'snaps!' This Wiggles' song refers to those tiny twinkling stars we see at night... butt the nearest star is actually our blazing Sun! Twinkle, twinkle, little star...

Ok, what about 'Good Question?' What would be a 'good question' for tonight? Hmm. Lessee...
Got it! Here is tonight's 'good question:' 'Why is Science - as a method of knowing - superior to the ancient religions which have been around for so long and which the majority of the people in the world understand?

I answer that 'All ancient knowlege is crap. The more ancient it is, the worse it smells. The Bible stinks. The Koran stinks. Those books stink to High Heaven because they have been rotting for centuries. Furthermore, those ancient stinking books are fixed - unchanged by human progress.
Furthermore, we nowadays have a reliable new method for understanding our world: the scientific method. The scientific method replaces all those stinking ancient books, and the result is modern technology: Science produces technology; ancient books produce only bad smells.

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Continuing with the link dump, Foreskins are Fabulous is a new slogan at the recent (stomps above me) Gay Pride Parade. Eheh. Talk about 'experts!' Gay men who have foreskins must be the ultimate experts: not only do they have personal foreskins, they have 'esoteric' (oral-anal) knowlege about foreskins which are denied to the rest of us males - thank god - butt not to females! Females lack only the actual equipment, not the experiences, butt come up short in the 'equipment department.' By the way, the guy on the left of the above photo bears a stunning resemblence to Buttholebuddy (boom)! Congratulations to Walter Gerash on his 'taste' in male prostitutes! And what better link to emphasize all this esoteric knowlege than this link, Pleasures of the Foreskin!
And while you're reading that, listen to this glorious version of Music Box Dancer. Beautiful. (Butt dammit I like the previous version better! No, wait! Ratfuck, I can't decide. Oh, well...)

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Which brings us to this pathetic situation: Circumcision to prevent HIV. What a scam. The Sons of Abrafuckingham (Jews) are actually circumcising African dimwits en masse all over Africa using the 'Circumcision prevents HIV' bullshit, and many dumbass Africans are fooled into believing it. Many are dying as a result, not from HIV but from the 'cure.' (time for beer #3 @1517L) The truth is that condoms are by far the more effective preventive 'prophylactic.' An even more effective 'prophylactic measure' is... Masturbation. Idiots! You don't contract STD's from jerking off! And you don't need a condom either. But circumcision prevents masturbation! Idiots!
Men aren't the only idiots, of course. There are plenty of female idiots. Female Circumstitions will give you some insight into dark side of female sexual mutilation.
Beer #4 @1547L. Whee...
Speaking of the female, seems that eighty percent of women admit to faking orgasms! Bizarre. 'Wild noises help boost his ego and speed things up' says this MSNBC post by Brian Alexander. Sheeeit. Back in the good old days when Kootch and I were still 'doing it' there was no need at all for Kootch to 'fake it.' On those rare occasions when Kootch was obviously not going to orgasm, we could both sense it, and we would agree to abandon the attempt. I would 'come' and we would call it a night after I helped her with her 'douche.' Indeed, I could easily tell exactly when she was 'coming:' her vagina would 'relax' as orgasm approached, and her breathing would become more obvious, along with other subtle behavior. It was all very obvious to me at those times that she was having her orgasm. Indeed, if any woman I was fucking began screaming 'ohmygod!' I would have lost my erection immediately! None ever did. One woman (only one - it was a 'one night stand' - complained that I was taking too long. I was drunk as a skunk at the time. I doubled my thrusting rate and 'came' soon thereafter. I never saw her again. Beer #5 @1611. Sip. In my opinion, Alexander's article is a symptom of what I call, The Jewification of America (massive genital mutilation of American newborns) over the last half of the 20th Century.
Whew. We need a break from all this serious stuff. Here is Tonight's music: The Wiggles! Totally adorable. But wait! There's more! Here is another version! (As I was listening to the music yet again, Kootch appeared in the doorway and said, 'Peopre who serr ice cleam - zay pray this music!' (I'm making fun of Kootch, of course. Her English is really not that bad - but don't tell Kootch!)

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Whoa! What a meltdown! Twelve beers in six hours! I later (the next afternoon) discovered my whiskey glass next to the computer, indicating that I had at least one double shot of whiskey in addition to all that beer. Whew. Kootch advised me next day that I had not eaten supper. Apparently I had gone straight to bed drunk as a skunk after that last drink. Tonight will be different, I hope. I ate some lunch today, so I will not be so dependent on the beer for nourishment. We shall see...
Last week I failed to mention the most bizarre piece of 'street theater' I have ever witnessed: a Flash Mob. This particular event took place the day after my confrontation with Buttholebuddy, and happened at approximately 1630-1645L. I noticed a large group of teenagers gathering together on the Highline Canal Trail. As I stared at them through the patio door it soon became clear that they were all staring back in my direction. One or two of them made obscene body movements obviously intended to insult and provoke. Were they doing this for my benefit? Or the benefit of the upstairs occupants? Which? I thought I saw Buttholebuddy among them but couldn't be sure. I got out the binnoculars. Some of them began hiding behind the vegetation. I grabbed the camera and began snapping photos. At the sight of the camera many of them scattered. I snapped several photos before I noticed some two or three of the boys above us heading in the direction of the mob. One of the boys engaged 'ObsceneOzzie' in a fist fight. The fight was soon over, both participants apparently escaping with minimal damage. As the boys returned, I snapped their photo from the patio. They recoiled, as vampires from sunlight. One of them said, 'We just called the cops on you for doing this.' I replied, 'Didn't work, did it.' Bizarre. I live in a world full of very bizarre people, complete fucking idiots all.