daily scratchpad

(6)
Tonight's blog is getting boring now that I have lost format control. So I'll wrap this up with a call to Lucifer:
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lu: Hello?
me: I just got off the phone with god. We discussed his 'future-phobia' problem. He seems to be totally unable to understand logical processes.
lu: That is the major symptom of dumbassjewdopia. He has never known anything beyond 'abra-cada-bra' and 'hocus-pocus.' His prognosis is decidedly dim.
me: Given my recent experience I can only agree. How's Freud doing down there?
lu: You must mean, 'out there.'
me: Of course.
lu: Quite well. In fact, Jesus is one of his most recent clients.
----------

(5)
----------
me: My intuition was correct in that regard: Freud was way too Greek.
gd: Exactly.
me: Was your favorite Jew, Abraham?
gd: Yes. Yes! You are more perceptive than I thought. Abraham is snuggling up to me on my lap even as we speak, kissing me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear!
me: My impression is that there is nothing Freud could do in this situation.
gd: Your 'impression' is correct. (Hangs up)
----------

(4)
Well, as you can see, my 'enemies' have taken over total format control. Apparently, the 'format' irritates the dumb bastards. Good! Suck on it, boys and girls. The News is on now at 1747. I'm sipping on beer #7. Sip. Kootch has hit the sack. My phone connection with 'god' continued:
----------
me: What's wrong with the Greeks?
gd: Logic. Logic is infuriating. I can't follow it.
me: No wonder you fear the future!
gd: Greeks, no. Jews, yes.
me: Two plus two equals four.
gd: Yes, but why? Why?
me: You need therapy. Maybe I can help.
gd: 'Therapy?'
me: An old Jewish idea invented by Freud.
gd: Which Freud? There are thousands...
me: Sigmund Freud.
gd: Which one? There are thousands...
me: 6 May, 1856, Moravia.
gd: Oh, that old bastard. He's burning in Hell now...
----------

(3)
The 'Blogger problem' has been resolved for now, but I suspect LJDS as the cause. Apparently they have some sort of 'control' over over my cable connection such that they can interrupt my internet connection while leaving my TV service unimpaired. Working on beer #6 (faint boom). Sip. Ok. So I've covered both subjects for tonight and 'the rest is gravy.' Hmm. Maybe I should continue on the subject of 'religion' and contact the Jewish god, WHTZSNM regarding His 'future phobia.' Yas... Standby while I whip out my Brown Telephone, dial 666, and extend the 'antenna...'
----------
gd: Hello?
me: How's it going up there? All according to plan, I'll bet.
gd: Of course. I always have things well in hand. I AM God, you know.
me: You would totally flunk a 'lie detector test.'
gd. Lie Detector?
me: A device which measures human response to stress, useful in detecting possible deceit.
gd: I am not human!
me Obviously.
gd: You are boring Me. What is the purpose of this call?
me: My readers and I are curious about Your 'futurephobia.'
gd: ...phobia?
me: Greek for, 'fear.'
gd: Greek?
me: A human ethnic group. A nation.
gd: Ahh! The Greeks. I hate the Greeks.
----------

(2)
Buzzing nicely about 1/3rd of the way through beer #3. The Doctor Oz Show is about 'Medical Marijuana!' Alright! I'm TiVo-ing it. Bill Maher is on MSNBC. We agree that The Prez was right to intervene in Libya. Back from the fridge with beer #4. Sip. Buzzing my brains out! I'm gonna finish all 12 beers as usual tonight, but if I had some Marijuana and my old hot water bong I would have the option of terminating this booze session immediately and turning the next two hours or so into a really mystical experience. (Synergistically, Booze and Ganja go oh so well together (tap). Sip. Indeed, Ganja terminates a booze session and initiates the state of 'Munchies,' which state in turn discourages a return to the booze state. (Who drinks beer after Pizza?) Sip. All 'declared alcoholics' should, in my experienced opinion, be immediately granted a Marijuana prescription by their PCP in order to help them terminate booze sessions and increase personal awareness. Sip. And, on top of all that, Ganja leads to the ultimate drug of them all, LSD, which, in my opinion, should also be 'legalized' in some sense. Sip. Maybe we can create a new kind of religion to replace Monotheism (which has been a total fucking disaster.) Sip. Maybe. 'Priests' might eventually become a problem, however. Bhagwan once said something like, 'They say that the prostitution was the first profession. I disagree. The priesthood was the first profession. Without the priest, who will create the prostitute?' (Blogger problems.)

(1)
Ok. Last sip... of Diet Pepsi... Kootch is 'Gonna take a nap...' I need to take my meds with a little food... then... beer time!!! Standby... First sip at 1418. I have a general idea of what I want to write about, but as usual, we will have to wait and see what 'bubbles up.' Sip. 'Current events' and 'religion' are on the 'to-do list.' Sip. Dylan is on TV in the LR but I can't hear well enough to be distracted. Sip. I've turned off the anti-DVR timer, as trips to the 'fridge and potty will keep me busy enough. Beautiful day outside, and I got enough sleep last night (bed at 2130, up at 0900 - and the usual microwave radiation in between). I'm almost too sober for this right now. Sip. End of first beer at 1431. I'm back early, of course, mostly because of the weather forecasts for the rest of the week. A shame to be hungover during such nice warm weather. Back with beer #2 at 1435. Currenteventwise, The Prez pre-empted the nightly news broadcasts last night with a speech about the intervention in Libya. Although I didn't watch all of it I liked what I did watch. The 'reviews' were interesting too, as usual. Most pundits were concerned about 'exit strategy' and the fact that the eventual results could not be calculated in advance. The Prez made the point that the intervention was a humanitarian act designed to prevent large scale slaughter. I can go along with that. Regarding the pundits' concerns, I would only point out that the future is difficult to calculate given the innumerable variables, and that it is always good policy to be ready to be surprised. The future always will have that impish aspect to it. Even the Jewish god WHTZSNM, I am told, is so afraid of 'the future' that, although He can 'look into it' at any time, He never does. Strange. Which brings us to the subject of 'religion' at the end of beer #2.
(Update: Editor problems referred to in the following posts (above) were eventually resolved by switching to the latest editor.)

(7)

Time to wrap this up for tonight. Hmm...

Music: Beethoven. 5th symphony, fourth movement. Winning...! Yez... Winning...!

Pussy: Pink 23! Yum!

(To my 'followers:' I am fully aware, of course, of your previous and current interests concerning my blog. I know you, you know me. I will never betray you. Never. Ever.)

Drunk now, as you might expect, and working on my last beer at 2230. Sip. I am alone, as usual. I handle that particular aspect of my life quite well, given my long history of 'aloneness.' I am really, really, good at being alone, and I love it. What is my 'secret?'

We'll see. Maybe. (ABTW, my carriage returns.)

(6)
And last but not least, Journey to Ixtland:
----------
Don Juan watched my movements with apparent fascination.
'Well... are we equals?' he asked?
'Of course we're equals,' I said.
'I was, naturally, being condecending. I felt very warm towards him even though at times I did not know what to do with him; yet I still held in the back of my mind, although I would never notice it, the belief that I, being a university student, a man of the sophisticated Western World, was superior to an Indian.
'No,' he said calmly, 'we are not.'
'Why certainly we are,' I protested.
'No' he said in a soft voice. 'We are not equals. I am a hunter and a warrior and you are a pimp.'
----------
Becoming available to power had to be done systematically, but always with great caution.
----------
A controlled outburst and a controlled quietness were the mark of a warrior.
----------

(5)

A Seperate Reality was an even better book. Some quotes:

----------
'The Allies are neither good nor evil...' How does an ally look to you, Don Juan?
'They would look like ordinary people...'
Do you mean that some of the people I see on the street are not ordinary people?...
'Some of them are not,' he said emphatically... Why must you think that every person in a moving crowd is a human being?'...
He then explained that the allies could not take the lead or act on anything directly; they could, however, act upon a man in an indirect way... (wall-booming above).
----------

(4)
I can't find the book quote just now, but I remember it. My guess is that it is from either, The Teachings of Don Juan..., or A separate Reality, or Journey to Ixtland - all three by Carlos Casteneda. Our 'theology' is thus simplified to the point of being nonexistent. That is to say that we never waste each other's time discussing metaphysical nonsense.
(At 2001 My TiVo is beginning to record '400 Years of the Telescope' on PBS! Yum!)
Hmm. How's about me doing a few quotes from Casteneda? Can you go along with that? Alright!
----------
'Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn't, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn't... One makes you strong; the other weakens you.' (Heavy face rad as I write this. Gerash follows not the 'path with heart. Nor does his 'god.')
----------
What do you see when Mescalito takes you with him, Don Juan?
'Such things are not for ordinary conversation. I can't tell you that.'
'Would something bad happen to you if you told?'
'Mescalito is a protector, a kind, gentle protector; but that does not mean you can make fun of him. Because he is a kind protector he can also be horror itself...' (Ed note: 'Mescalito' refers to the drug, Mescaline, and the quote probably refers to 'a bad trip.' (Very bad trip! Ed.))
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'People are sometimes as deceiful as that. They sing someone else's songs without even knowing what the songs say.'
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A MAN OF KNOWLEGE HAD AN ALLY.
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An Ally was Formless.
----------
Etc, etc. The book seemed to be very much about the 'psychedelic experience.'

(3)
Beginning beer #8 at 1836. Kootch has hit the sack. She loves Star Trek (the original)! I like it too, but I can 'fast forward' most of it most of the time and be satisfied. Not so, Kootch. Although she remembers more of it than I do (except that I remember the characters more, while she remembers the plots more), I often leave her in the LR watching the entire show. This show, and Millionaire are the ones we watch together. I think that (sub-rosa) we both watch these shows with the added, unspoken, purpose of detecting possible mental deterioration in both of us. So far, Kootch seems to be 'ahead' of me, but on the other hand I must take into account my weekly 'booze nights.' My evaluation is that booze accounts for the her slight lead in this regard. Oh, well.
Sip. Slurp. Kootch is 77 until August. I lag one year behind, catching up percentage-wise every year.
We both remain totally non-theistic. In fact, we rarely talk about 'matters existential.' We both know that, 'Death is nothing. Nothing!' And knowing that, we enjoy our lives together while we can.

(2)

Continuing with this week's Rink Dump: (Rast sip of beer #3 at 1541. Timer set for beer #4.)

----------
You Don't Need God to be Good. Indeed, the Jewish 'god' (whom I call, 'WHTZSNM') is the ultimate possible expression of Evil.
Christopher Hitchens on 60 Minutes. I read his book, 'god is not Great.' Excellent book. I'm wondering how much his first name eventually came to influence his thinking.
Is Israel the new Iowa? Stephen Prothero reports. My take is that this 'phenomenon' tends to support the theory that 'Jewish money' pretty much controls American politics.
Speaking of 'Jewish Money...' I've referenced this source before, of course.
Steep Drop seen is U.S. Circumcisions... A New York Times report. Alright!
How the Human Penis Lost its Spines. Huh?! The human penis actually evolves?! Muthafuck! Whowouldathought...
Slate investigates sex and circumcision. Lori has it right.
Meanwhile, CNN consternates, and misses the obvious... as is usual in Jew-dominated American media. The truth is that Abraham totally fucked up a glorious piece of work by Mother Nature.
How our Brains Predispose us to Believe in God. Interesting. Mama helps, of course. Most people never recover from those early indoctrinations.
Organized Religion is going Extinct... That's the good news...
Sex, Exercise, can cause heart attacks?! Uh-oh. I'm 76. Maybe I should stop wanking off...
Scientists Capture Evolution in the Lab. (Turn off the sound if you want to avoid an irritating video of some dumbass who has no clue about evolution. Shame on ABC.)
Stephen Hawking shocks us in his new book. Hmm! Maybe I'll buy it!
On the other hand, maybe I won't... I love philosophy. But I also love Science:
Astronomers Locate Coldest Known Star. A hot cuppa tea! Hmm. But I like a cold Diet Pepsi. I therefore predict the eventual discovery of such a 'cold' star, given the laws of physics and our grasp of infrared technology.
----------

(1)

Spring has sprung! I took the first bike ride of 2011 a few days ago and two days later noticed significant improvement in leg function. Exercise works?! Apparently.
Ahhh. First sip of beer at 1412. Today I'm trying an experiment: set the timer for 40 minutes between beers. Should be interesting.
Some of the stuff which attracted my attention recently. Rink Dump:
----------
Graham thinks Jesus could be just around the corner. This kind of thinking has been going on for 2000 years, now, and counting...
U.S. Man Stoned to Death by 'deeply religious' murderer. Nothing much new there. Right?
Nobody Loves Jews more than the Christians... Yeah, until Jesus arrives... then, watch out!

(Barf. I just finished the last sip of beer #1 and there are still 16 minutes left on the timer. End of 'experiment?' Nope. I'll just 'adjust' the timer down to 30 minutes. Buzzing nicely... time to check last week's blog posts. I noticed a really bizarre 'non-sequiter' there at the end... (tap). Aha. That was in post #6. I was referring to Gerash, but it is obviously contextually inappropriate. I'll delete that line. I also noticed a possible error in post #1 referring to the 802 Combat Support Group. I'll change that to 802nd Supply Squadron.)

Ok, I've made the corrections and by the way noticed yet another 'inaccuracy' which shall go uncorrected because I really have to draw the line somewhere. Upon re-entering this particular blog post (Ha! 30 minute timer and last sip coincided exactly!) I could see that while I was doing the corrections, the stalker had done his 'unwanted carriage return' thingee. I deleted those UCRs in this particular post, but left the unwanted UCRs in last week's post #7. Interesting that, although I changed the password before blogging last week, mister blog-botherer was able to get into Blogger 'with me.' This suggests that sHe has an undetected 'keystroke logger' on my computer or is able to (tap) somehow 'mimic' my computer on a common cable connection. There are other possibilities, of course. (Oops. I forgot to reset the 30 minute timer for beer #3.)

(7)

The Western World must act now on the side of Libyan people. The West needs to get involved in the Arabian Information Revolution! So what if we don't know what sort of 'regime' will replace Ka-daffy! So What! Anything is better than Ka-daffy!

We need to oppose Ka-daffy! The Arabs will love us!

Fuck the Europeans!

Do it!

Now!

(6)

I have photos, of course, of that shit. (tap). Also samples. Yuck. I was totally 'grossed out' that night and hungover too. I hit the sack. Yuck. (tap)
The pile of Jewish shit became dry on the outside, choking off 'odor.' (And in any case my fan system was blowing any odor out the East window, as usual.
Next day (Friday) I began to 'process' my most recent experiences.
Meanwhile, 'apartment theater' (I have photos) expressed itself, followed next by 'supermarket theater.' (KSS):
Local Jewish Dogshit wanted me to 'clean up the mess.'
I continued to (tap) be 'grossed out.'
I tolerated that Jewish Shit. I photographed the scenerio.
I played C-III.
I contemplated my 'fellow man.'
I live in a world full of idiots.
I therefore did not worry about 'matters reputational.'
I am waaaay... beyond that.
I am an awakened being.
You are biological machines.

(5)
Kootch has hit the sack. We are very 'lovey-dovey' nowadays since the Valentine's Day flowers. I was reluctant to draw Kootch into this stalking maelstrom until I knew I had an interested audience. I now have such an audience. (Thank you! I will reward you with my version of 'ancient understanding'. Stay tuned!)

(4)
Next day Kootch told me (tap) that I must have 'stumbled' against the table next to the couch because the lamp had been broken. My 10X binoculars were also broken (They could not be 'focused' and several days later I bought a new pair from Wallmart). I remembered none of that. I concluded that - drunk as I might have been - I would have remembered... something!
Nada remeberance. Conclusion: (tap) Local Jewish Dogshit (Walter Gerash's 'employees') had invaded (boom) our apartment and 'dumped' doo-doo on the floor.
(That 'conclusion' was not without previous supporting evidence: on two previous occasions, when I slept with my (tap) revolver under my pillow, I woke up after a booze night and found that the weapon under my pil (tap) low had been 'armed' in the sense that the hammer had been 'skinned back' (retracted)). I had slept those nights with a primed weapon beneath my head. Obviously, some intruder had entered our apartment during the night, reached under my pillow, retracted the hammer of that weapon, then left.
That was back in the days before I installed the current sliding latch/lock. By revealing their ability to enter our apartment they alerted (tap) me. I installed a latch which could only be released by someone on the inside. But 'they' had (tap) other (unknown to me) means of entry. They were not bothered by that 'revelation:' It was 'worth it' to them at the time to increase my 'anxiety.'
The recent 'entry revelation' therefore had the result of (tap) revealing one last possible method of invasion from above, or from below, or from next door.
(I just went out on the patio (at 1744) and saw my creepy next door neighbor talking on his (cell?) phone. He laughed and waved and continued talking. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He seemed unbothered.)

(3)
The 'stalking situation' became extremely ugly recently (and by the way I 'updated' post (4) below with the appropriate link). In fact, that regretable 'situation' has almost reached a kind of 'critical mass' (being heavily bombarded by 'face rad). I report; you decide:
----------
I woke up last Thursday afternoon hungover (tap) as usual. I said 'hi' to Kootch and popped open a Diet Pepsi and began watching TiVo, feeling miserable. Kootch had, as usual, cooked up some stuff for me to eat. I watched tv. I slowly recovered. I ate. I watched more tv. Kootch hit the sack. I watched more tv. Just before hitting the sack again at 2200 I checked the computer to see whether it was still up and running, etc. (tap)
It was then that I discovered a pile of what looked like human shit between my bed and my (tap) computer. The pile of shit was disgusting, of course, but there were 'track marks' around which suggested that (faint boom) 'someone' had 'stepped into it' and 'tracked it.'
(You need to know at this point that, years ago, I covered the rug in my bedroom with plastic sheeting in an attempt to stop the gas which I thought at the time to be coming from below through the brown rug. I even covered the bedroom ceiling with plastic sheeting (since removed) in case the gas was coming from above. Only later would I come up with the definitive theory: 'They' were gassing me (tap) via the electrical outlets in the walls (and later, after I had installed the window fans, from outside the windows).
I was totally 'grossed out' of course: Did I poop on the floor last night?!
Uh... no. I was (faint boom) drunk, but not that drunk. I would have remembered.
I hit the sack. I would deal with that pile of shit... later. Yuck.

(2)
So today I mailed a check to:

American Red Cross
POB 40020018
Des Moines, IA 50340-2018

I marked the check for 'Japan earthquake relief' of course. (In view of the fact that my online activity is constantly monitored I am reluctant to do online transactions.)

(1)

Happy St. Patrick's Day (tomorrow). And pi day was last monday (3.14). Darn. I missed it.

The big news this week is, of course, the 'one-two punch' dealt to Japan last week by 'Mother Nature' in the form of an earthquake followed by a tsunami. We all (well... most of us) sympathize with those unfortunate fellow human beings in Japan, of course, especially Kootch (who is Japanese/Tokyo) and Your's Truly (her husband of 54 years). Kootch was able to contact her family in Tokyo soon after those terrible events, and is still planning on her yearly vacation with them. (She talks to her sister at least once a week.) I always dread that time of the year, of course, because of my 'stalking situation' but I don't complain at all, nor do I 'bother her' with (tap above me) my 'concerns.' She enjoys her vacation. I endure it. That's the way it is.
I did my 'duty' of course, in the form of a contribution to the American Red Cross. This particular transaction was especially poignant to me in view of our long history of indebtedness to that glorious organization: After our marriage in 1957 I lost my USAFSS Top Secret clearance and became temporarily 'jobless' awaiting re-training/re-assignment. Government policy at the time did not provide for her air fare to the US, so she remained in Japan while I was re-assigned to Kelly AFB for 'further processing.' At Kelly, they asked me what 'hobbies' I had. Eheh. I figured that 'masturbation' would not be a politically correct answer, and replied, 'Drawing.'
'You are now an Illustrator. Report to Schilling AFB, Salina Kansas. Rotsa ruck.'
I followed orders, of course, and reported to the 802nd Supply Squadron. Job: Technical Illustrator. Kootch remained in Japan. I drew. I 'wanked.' No pussy for me. Meanwhile, Kootch gave birth to our first child: (boom) a beautiful girl. Kootch advised me of the good news via letter. We had already 'discussed' boy and girl names, and I had decided on 'Catherine' if it was a girl. Kootch mis-pronounced the name, 'Ca-sa-rin.' They took her to mean, 'Kathleen' (which would fit with our last name). No middle name (oops). We communicated via letter in a problematic language situation. She nursed. I wanked.
Enter The American Red Cross: Kootch advised me via letter that the American Red Cross was going to pay her transportation expenses to Salina, Kansas! Hooray! I met her and Kathy at the Salina Airport (which was moved to Schilling AFB after the USAF abandoned that facility). They arrived on a DC-3 (aka C-47). We moved into a hotel and I 'got some' that same night. Mmmm!
Wanking is fun but pussy is funner!

(6)

This is war, of course, and I am a warrior. Sorry. It happened that way... I do my thingie...

Last beer gone. I'm way too sober. I'm sipping on Canadian Mist. I need to (thump above) address the concept of 'dust.' Bear with me:
We are composed of elements which were generated in the 'bowels' of massive stars which eventually exploded, scattering the eventual components of 'us' into the local space. 'We' were part of the massive 'dust cloud' which eventually solidified into our Solar System.
We know that now in 2011.
Genisis is therefore correct concerning the 'dust' part of 'Dust unto dust...' Really.
Even Omar Khayamm was quite right in that regard:
----------
Dust unto dust, and under dust to lie
Sans wine, sans song, sans singer and sans end.
----------
Whatever. Enjoy your 'sub-waist' sensations. I do! Nighty-night.

(5)

Which brings us to tonight's pussy. Utterly glorious!
I'm sipping on my last beer now at 2110.
The Jews have successfully prevented me from doing tonight's blog as planned. I consider that a compliment! Thank you, Jews. And while I'm on the subject I would also like to congratulate you all on your overall sensory abilities regarding my (various) effluent. You have excellent taste.
Enjoy.

(4)


Consider this photograph. What do you make of it?

(3)

This video is another APOD gem which presents a truth to the viewer which is on a level with the Ash Wednesday truth that, 'You are ashes. You are dust.' Here is the ultimate advice to all of you ultra-egotistical-dumbasses out there:




Both Khadaffy and Sheen (among many, many others) should take note.

(2)
Our Sun is the ultimate source of energy, of course. It is currently enjoying a more or less calm, stable period in its long life, and us Earthlings are the current beneficiaries thereof. But our beloved sun can get a bit cantankerous now and then. Here is a recent example:


What a monster emission!
(The video is compliments of one of my favorite sites, Astronomy Picture of the Day Archive. (Kootch just hit the sack at 1825.) I visit it every day I am online. Highly recommended.)
So what is the relevance of that solar eruption to Genesis 3:19? To Ash Wednesday? What existential truth did the author of Genesis stumble upon those three thousand of years ago?
Hmm...

(1)
Greetings and salutations. Beginning beer #2 at 1540 (fart). Sip. Slight buzz. Time to reread last week's posts. Standby... alright! Just as I remember. I read it sober the day after I wrote it but wasn't impressed in my hungover state. Buzzed now - and after adequate sleep - I can appreciate the subtlties more. Sip.
Beginning beer #3 at 1603. Kootch is in the LR watching Star Trek (the original). I watched the first part of it with her while downing beer #1.
My 'neighbors' have recently reduced the intensity of their night-time radiation attacks. (Two more farts. 'Refried beens' is the culprit in case you were wondering, and there is also an interesting 'laxitive effect.' I do them at least once a week. Keeps me 'regular' and, of course, I love to fart. Don't you? Another great fart/poop generator is Split Pea Soop. Us retired folks with no social life really have it made, fartwise. Fun!)
Anyway (back from the fridge with beer #4), I was feeling halfway intelligent today after a good night's (for me) sleep, so I did a little pre-booze prep for tonight's seance:
----------
A Solar Eruption Video. This is a 'must see,' folks.
Advice for Sheen, Khadaffy and other megalomaniacs.
Tonight's Pussy.
Gang Violence.
----------
(The Badass Blog Botherer (tap) is active again. I removed the unwanted carriage returns.)

Also, today is Ash Wednesday: 'Remember that Thou art Dust, and Unto Dust Thou Shalt Return.' Genises 3:19. Also Here. WOW! Here is THE single, central truth of human existence! In fucking Genises?! But what follows from that?

(7)
I love it! I might be extremely sleep-deprived, but that fact doesn't make me an idiot. Sip.
Now what...
Aha! Remember last week's 'challenge?' You were to find at least one mutilated (circumcised) penis in the three sample links. Did you 'get it right?'
If you selected example number one you got it right! Congradulations! (NSFCM).
True, the 'sample' is 'reinforced' by the face of a beautiful woman... that much is true...
But that giant penis is, in reality, compromised: the most sensitive parts have been removed. The result is that it cannot be 'manipulated' inside its own skin. It cannot, for example, be 'masturbated.' A normal penis can be masturbated easily because it (faint boom) easily slides around inside it's own skin, no 'lubrication' needed! A 'circumcised' (mutilated) penis - on the other hand - cannot be so enjoyed. It needs 'lubrication' because the 'excess' skin (the juicy part) was removed in infancy:
The mutilated penis needs artificial lubrication in order to compensate for that inherent inability to 'slip around.'

(6)
Time for the evening news... Ok I'm back at 1802. Where was I?

Kootch has hit the sack. She was apparently so impressed with my Valentine flowers that she 'saved' them. Really: One by one, as they expired, she hung them upside down in her bedroom. They 'dried out' as the days went by. They all eventually became dry, stiff, flower corpses. She then arranged them all in her largest flower vase. In the process of drying out, they changed color from orange to red. She now displays that lovely dead red dozen on her dresser top. It amazes me that she loved those flowers so much! I have 'before and after' photos, of course. She knows that I love her.
You can see where I am going with this, I presume. You can understand that I am issue-ing a general warning to the stalkers and also to the ACSD? Right? I will not move!

(5)
Needless to say, my visit with Jared (below) was not productive. I decided - as a very, very, last resort - to consult a lawyer. I selected a young woman name of Susan A Moneyhoney. 'She' turned out to be a male in drag.
----------
me: I thought you were female.
mo: I am in spirit. How may I help you?
me I am being attacked by my neighbors.
mo: Call the police. That will be 100 dollars, our minimum charge. Pay the secretary on your way out. Next?
me: I tried the police. I need a lawyer.
mo: Why won't the police help you?
me: Their attack is invisible. The police don't see it.
mo: Voodoo?
me: Microwaves. They zap me with microwave cannons day and night.
mo: Nobody would do that. See a psychiatrist. Next?
me: I am willing to pay...
mo: Five hundred dollars per hour? Really?
me: Oops. I'm late for an appointment...
----------

(4)
I then make an appointment with the great Jewish psychiatrist Jared Goldensilver Diamond IV, a very famous Jewish psychiatrist.
----------
me: I really respect Freud.
ps: I can sense your perceptive intelligence, my son. How may I be of assistance?
me: I have a problem.
ps: I am here for the sole purpose of assisting my fellow Jews in the resolution of all systemic tribal, historical, psychological, pathological, penilogical tribulations. Please present to me your innermost secrets which I will hold in absolute personal confidence foreverandeveramen.
me: I'm not Jewish.
ps: Honorary Jews are included, of course. How may I help you my son?
me: I'm not an 'Honorary Jew' either. Sorry.
ps: (coughing) Is that what I'm smelling... foreskin stink...? Excuse me while I don my formask defense... ack... ack... choke... ack... choke... ack... retch... barf... choke...
me: No problem. Take your time.
ps: Choke. Barf. Retch. Whew. Just in time. I almost died!
me: Sorry.
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(3)
As the previous post suggests, I then go to the Neurologist:
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me: I am experiencing bizarre neurological symptoms.
ne: Describe them.
me: At night I vibrate.
ne: It says here, 'Also in July.' Is that correct?
me: Correct.
ne: Do you sleep in a vibrating bed?
me: No.
ne: You are not cold when you 'vibrate?'
me: No.
ne: Is the vibration frequency always the same?
me: No. It varies somewhat between approximately 8-16 cycles per second.
ne: You can count that fast?
me: No. It is my estimation.
ne: I have never heard of such a condition as you describe. Are you seeing a psychiatrist?
me: No.
ne: I am giving you a provisional diagnosis of 'Anomolous Neurological Disorder.' You can go now.
me: I have a theory: the problem is 'environmental.' (tap)
ne: Environmental?! What do you mean, exactly?
me: My hypothesis is that my symptoms are being caused by pulsed microwave energy which is being directed at me by my close neighbors.
ne: Nobody can, or would do that. Are you sure you are not seeing a psychiatrist?
me: Yes, I am not.
ne: Here is a referral to a psychiatrist. I suggest that you see him as soon as possible.
me: Is he pretty good?
ne: I can vouch for him unconditionally.
me: Is he Jewish?
ne: Absolutely! In fact, he is a direct descendent of the great Freud himself.
me: Thank you very much.
ne: You're welcome.
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(2)
I would credit the hypothetical ACSD officer in the previous post with an IQ of at least 100; rare in my experience, but certainly possible. I take his advice. I see a Kaiser Permanente primary care physician:
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me: I am experiencing bizarre neurological symptoms.
do: Describe them please.
me: At night I vibrate.
do: Have you seen a psychiatrist (tap) or a neurologist about this?
me: No.
do: That doesn't seem possible unless you are very cold and shivering. Are you cold at night?
me: It also happens in July.
do: Bizarre.
me: I have a theory: pulsed microwave energy.
do: Are you sure you are not seeing a psychiatrist?
me: I'm sure.
do: Here is an appointment with a specialist in neurology.
me: Thank you.
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(1)
Beginning beer #2 at 1325. Sip. After much 'debate' I decided to do tonight's blog in spite of being severely sleep-deprived. We'll see how that works out... sip. Time ro reread what I wrote last week. Standby... Yep, just as I remembered it. I am paraniod for a good reason, but I am also aware that my 'paranoia' is a good defense mechanism; very useful, but not to be overused. And concerning the various paranoid speculations in the last post, you can decide: am I waaay too paranoid? Or, am I only being prudent in a very trying life situation?
In fact, now that night-time radiation has become too intense to tolerate, I have made the decision to contact those intrepid guardians of justice known as the ACSD. Yep. I am that desperate. True, I am probably grasping at a straw in this particular case, but nowadays I am really in need (boom above) of some help. The alternatives are two: (1) Stop the microwave attack; or (2) Move out.
But even if the ACSD is able to overcome their 'conditioning' regarding me, what could they do to help me? Nothing much, apparently. Consider the following hypothetical encounter with a well-meaning ACSD officer:
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me: The neighbors are attacking me with microwave 'cannons.'
of: Are you currently seeing a psychiatrist?! Nobody would do that.
me: The microwave attacks are constant. During the day I can move away from the most intense attacks, but during the night I am a fixed target.
of: What is an 'attack' like, exactly? Do you heat up or something?
me: Heating is the least of my problems, especially at night. The major problem is that microwaves impact the central nervous system, especially the peripheral neurological system.
of: How do you know that?
me: The symptoms are intense and obviously neurological.
of: Give me an example.
me: At night I vibrate. I also throb. Some of my muscles twitch randomly. My skin feels very wierd, pricking, itching, crawling, occasionally stinging.
of: You must be suffering from some sort of disease. Have you seen a doctor?
me: Not for this.
of': You need to see a doctor. I can't help you.
me: Can't you talk to the neighbors?
of: What would I say to them? Go see a doctor. If you can get a doctor to agree with you then we might be able to help you.
me: Thank you.
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