Friday, August 26, 2011
Goodnight.
(6)
Finally, I shall sign off tonight with 'Tonight's Pussy.' I was unable to select the 'best photo,' and so I present this site. See you all next week.
Finally, I shall sign off tonight with 'Tonight's Pussy.' I was unable to select the 'best photo,' and so I present this site. See you all next week.
Every Word is True.
(5)
Buzzing beautifully on (faint boom) beer #10 at 2051. My brother David married a woman from Spain. She is beautiful, but I don't know the color of her eyes.
And lastly, Don't Cry for Me Argentina. Every word is true.
Buzzing beautifully on (faint boom) beer #10 at 2051. My brother David married a woman from Spain. She is beautiful, but I don't know the color of her eyes.
And lastly, Don't Cry for Me Argentina. Every word is true.
Zen. Unforgetable Zen.
(4)
That's enough for tonight. A little shit seems to go a long way. Now what? Irene! Gotta watch The News... CNN... Glad I live in Colorado... Now for some links:
Raftman's Razor. I first saw this amazing piece on PBS. The piece is very 'Zen-like,' and features a drawing of male genitalia which could never be shown on The Doctors or on Doctor Oz, or, indeed, anywhere on Judeo-Muslim-American TV. The penis appears to be mutilated in the Judeo-Muslim-American tradition.
Speaking of which, The Intactivism Pages contains much information which supports Mother Nature regarding the male and female genitalia. (NSFW in America. Use caution).
And continuing in this vein, I have called The Irish Washerwoman 'The International Masturbation Melody.' That it is!
Popped open beer #10 at 2012. Buzzing beautifully.
Speaking of 'Beautiful,' I love this rendition of Barcarolle by Andre Rieu. Two absolutely lovely girls singing together. Glorious!
That's enough for tonight. A little shit seems to go a long way. Now what? Irene! Gotta watch The News... CNN... Glad I live in Colorado... Now for some links:
Raftman's Razor. I first saw this amazing piece on PBS. The piece is very 'Zen-like,' and features a drawing of male genitalia which could never be shown on The Doctors or on Doctor Oz, or, indeed, anywhere on Judeo-Muslim-American TV. The penis appears to be mutilated in the Judeo-Muslim-American tradition.
Speaking of which, The Intactivism Pages contains much information which supports Mother Nature regarding the male and female genitalia. (NSFW in America. Use caution).
And continuing in this vein, I have called The Irish Washerwoman 'The International Masturbation Melody.' That it is!
Popped open beer #10 at 2012. Buzzing beautifully.
Speaking of 'Beautiful,' I love this rendition of Barcarolle by Andre Rieu. Two absolutely lovely girls singing together. Glorious!
The Price of Shit.
(3)
I would certainly be open to an equitable agreement, of course, in lieu of the current (Kootch is hitting the sack and graciously accepted my request for another beer (#5) as she exited the local poopery. Sip.) grotesque scenerio. That is to say that I am willing to sell my shit for a price. I would want to settle on a fair price. of course. I shit almost every day, and Gerash has lots of money. What would Gerash be willing to pay? Fifty dollars per ounce? Five hundred? And other possible economic factors come to mind: Would my Irish shit eventually become popular among Jewish homosexual lawyers? Money, honey!!
And I can produce lots of shit when the occasion demands! Indeed, I think that I could virtually guarantee six ounces of prime Irish Shit per day! That's 3000 dollars per day at 500/oz! Hmm!
Seems a shame to just flush it...
I would certainly be open to an equitable agreement, of course, in lieu of the current (Kootch is hitting the sack and graciously accepted my request for another beer (#5) as she exited the local poopery. Sip.) grotesque scenerio. That is to say that I am willing to sell my shit for a price. I would want to settle on a fair price. of course. I shit almost every day, and Gerash has lots of money. What would Gerash be willing to pay? Fifty dollars per ounce? Five hundred? And other possible economic factors come to mind: Would my Irish shit eventually become popular among Jewish homosexual lawyers? Money, honey!!
And I can produce lots of shit when the occasion demands! Indeed, I think that I could virtually guarantee six ounces of prime Irish Shit per day! That's 3000 dollars per day at 500/oz! Hmm!
Seems a shame to just flush it...
Potty Problems...
(2)
Buzzing beautifully on beer #4 at 1646! Slurp. If I am correct (and I am), Gerash is 'Denver's most famous fish' in more ways than one! Butt there's more! I suspect - based on 'toilet behavior' over the years - that the folks in the apartment below have the capacity to 'intercept' (tap) flushes from above (tap). This suspicion (tap) also dawned on me gradually over the years, as I observed intermittent strange toilet behavior during flushing. Specifically, the toilet would occasionally 'flood' to almost overflowing, only after I had pooped. Kootch never complained about that. Were they actually intercepting my shit?! Bizarre. I concluded that it was a 'timing error on the part of the operator down there. sHe was, perhaps, a trainee.' The 'temporary stop-ups' were very intermittent (one or two per year) and bore no particular relationship to the size of the 'package.'
What would 'they' do with the shit? Your guess is as good as mine, butt The Odd Sex Guide seems to be suggestive in that regard.
Buzzing beautifully on beer #4 at 1646! Slurp. If I am correct (and I am), Gerash is 'Denver's most famous fish' in more ways than one! Butt there's more! I suspect - based on 'toilet behavior' over the years - that the folks in the apartment below have the capacity to 'intercept' (tap) flushes from above (tap). This suspicion (tap) also dawned on me gradually over the years, as I observed intermittent strange toilet behavior during flushing. Specifically, the toilet would occasionally 'flood' to almost overflowing, only after I had pooped. Kootch never complained about that. Were they actually intercepting my shit?! Bizarre. I concluded that it was a 'timing error on the part of the operator down there. sHe was, perhaps, a trainee.' The 'temporary stop-ups' were very intermittent (one or two per year) and bore no particular relationship to the size of the 'package.'
What would 'they' do with the shit? Your guess is as good as mine, butt The Odd Sex Guide seems to be suggestive in that regard.
Let Us Hope...
(1)
Beginning beer #2 at 1516. Sip. Well, judging by the intense nighttime radiation all week, Gerash et. al. were displeased by last week's posts. Sip. Before rereading them I need some music. Lessee... Mozart Piano Concert 18 (1/5). Very nice. Sip. OK. So what was the problem!? Standby... Ok, it must have been either the 'sniff' of the 'jiggle' or both. Whatever... Now for Mozart Piano Concerto 18 (2/5).
Back from the fridge with beer #3 at 1548; sip.
Aha! I just looked at the 'Interesting' list and there are several pieces which I must have looked up during last week's seance! This is going to be a musical night!
But first, The Yuck: I thought I had invented the term, 'pooparazzi.' The idea formed gradually over the years as I was constantly 'harrassed' (heh) by taps from above whenever I peed. I simply turned the (noisy) fan on before peeing. The noise partially masked the noise of pee hitting the water, considerably reducing my 'anxiety' concerning the obvious invasion of privacy. Butt over the years it gradually dawned on me that although 'they' seemed to be primarily interested in my urinary activities, their silence during my pooping activities did not necessarily indicate a lack of interest. Quite the opposite, in fact. I eventually concluded that Gerash was 'hooked' on my poop, and/or the smells thereof. Bizarre. (Butt apparently some homosexuals who hung around in men's restrooms became 'sexually imprinted' on the smells therein. This particular 'paraphilia' will decline as homosexuals gain wider social acceptance and need to spend less time in men's rooms. Let us hope. Sheeeit.)
Beginning beer #2 at 1516. Sip. Well, judging by the intense nighttime radiation all week, Gerash et. al. were displeased by last week's posts. Sip. Before rereading them I need some music. Lessee... Mozart Piano Concert 18 (1/5). Very nice. Sip. OK. So what was the problem!? Standby... Ok, it must have been either the 'sniff' of the 'jiggle' or both. Whatever... Now for Mozart Piano Concerto 18 (2/5).
Back from the fridge with beer #3 at 1548; sip.
Aha! I just looked at the 'Interesting' list and there are several pieces which I must have looked up during last week's seance! This is going to be a musical night!
But first, The Yuck: I thought I had invented the term, 'pooparazzi.' The idea formed gradually over the years as I was constantly 'harrassed' (heh) by taps from above whenever I peed. I simply turned the (noisy) fan on before peeing. The noise partially masked the noise of pee hitting the water, considerably reducing my 'anxiety' concerning the obvious invasion of privacy. Butt over the years it gradually dawned on me that although 'they' seemed to be primarily interested in my urinary activities, their silence during my pooping activities did not necessarily indicate a lack of interest. Quite the opposite, in fact. I eventually concluded that Gerash was 'hooked' on my poop, and/or the smells thereof. Bizarre. (Butt apparently some homosexuals who hung around in men's restrooms became 'sexually imprinted' on the smells therein. This particular 'paraphilia' will decline as homosexuals gain wider social acceptance and need to spend less time in men's rooms. Let us hope. Sheeeit.)
Friday, August 19, 2011
Esotericism?
(6)
Oh dear! I get the feeling that tonight's blogging has esoteric implications not obvious to me at the moment.
Nighty-night!
Oh dear! I get the feeling that tonight's blogging has esoteric implications not obvious to me at the moment.
Nighty-night!
Tonight's Pussy.
(5)
Time to wrap this up. I therefore leave you tonight with the following links:
----------
Pussy! Hmm. Hmm!. Hmm!!
Time to wrap this up. I therefore leave you tonight with the following links:
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Pussy! Hmm. Hmm!. Hmm!!
Jiggle, Jiggle, Jiggle, Jiggle, Jiggle, Jiggle, Jiggle... OMG!
(4)
Indeed, the only 'married woman' I have ever fucked (to my knowlege) is Kootch. And she was a GREAT fuck! (And on the subject of naughty TMI, my most recent (tap) orgasm was quite spectacular. It was another example that an old uncircumcised male of 76 years can still achieve orgasm without a hardon! Try that without a prepuce!
Hmm. I feel the end of this week's blog posts approaching. Just popped open beer #11 at 1945. Sip. Yum. Hmm. Sip. Slurp.
Well, clearly we are approaching the end of tonight's blog event. Sip. One beer left, not counting inherited extras...
Sip. It is now official: Six beers left for next week. Stay tuned.
Jiggle!
Indeed, the only 'married woman' I have ever fucked (to my knowlege) is Kootch. And she was a GREAT fuck! (And on the subject of naughty TMI, my most recent (tap) orgasm was quite spectacular. It was another example that an old uncircumcised male of 76 years can still achieve orgasm without a hardon! Try that without a prepuce!
Hmm. I feel the end of this week's blog posts approaching. Just popped open beer #11 at 1945. Sip. Yum. Hmm. Sip. Slurp.
Well, clearly we are approaching the end of tonight's blog event. Sip. One beer left, not counting inherited extras...
Sip. It is now official: Six beers left for next week. Stay tuned.
Jiggle!
Married Women Have Never Interested Me. (Sorry, girls)
(3)
Back with beer #7 at 1709. Sip. Now what? Sip. Ha. The Evening News... Back with beer #10. Eight to go. Buzzing nicely after watching the news. Sip.
Another occasion comes to mind when I took a female (a friend's wife) for a ride. She wondered what it was like to do aerobatics. I was only too willing. So we climbed to about 9000 ASL, right over the airport. There was no 'traffic' as usual, and the folks below were watching us, including her husband. I told her that we were about to do a 'hammerhead turn.' I slowed to about 10 knots above stall speed, then I applied full throttle. The engine roared. Oooo! I then pulled the stick back to the stops and pushed full left rudder. I yelled something like, 'We need to get some speed.' The left wing stalled immediately and the airplane rotated rapidly counterclockwise in a kind of 'half snap.' I maintained full throttle until inverted, then applied full opposite rudder, straightening the airplane out as the nose dropped to an attitude of straight down. The airspeed began to build as I neutralized the stick. At 120 knots I closed the throttle, still headed straight down, and pulled about 3 Gs until the airplane was pointed straight up again. I then re-applied full power, and when the airspeed bled off to below 50 knots I hit full left rudder again. The airplane rotated around the left wingtip in the usual hammerhead manner and headed straight down again. At that point I heard her scream, 'That's enough!' I said, 'Ok,' and closed the throttle, then transitioned gently to level flight. I then throttled back to idle and glided us to a safe landing while her husband (et.al.) watched.
I got the impression that she might have been willing to fuck me, but married women have never interested me. They still don't.
Back with beer #7 at 1709. Sip. Now what? Sip. Ha. The Evening News... Back with beer #10. Eight to go. Buzzing nicely after watching the news. Sip.
Another occasion comes to mind when I took a female (a friend's wife) for a ride. She wondered what it was like to do aerobatics. I was only too willing. So we climbed to about 9000 ASL, right over the airport. There was no 'traffic' as usual, and the folks below were watching us, including her husband. I told her that we were about to do a 'hammerhead turn.' I slowed to about 10 knots above stall speed, then I applied full throttle. The engine roared. Oooo! I then pulled the stick back to the stops and pushed full left rudder. I yelled something like, 'We need to get some speed.' The left wing stalled immediately and the airplane rotated rapidly counterclockwise in a kind of 'half snap.' I maintained full throttle until inverted, then applied full opposite rudder, straightening the airplane out as the nose dropped to an attitude of straight down. The airspeed began to build as I neutralized the stick. At 120 knots I closed the throttle, still headed straight down, and pulled about 3 Gs until the airplane was pointed straight up again. I then re-applied full power, and when the airspeed bled off to below 50 knots I hit full left rudder again. The airplane rotated around the left wingtip in the usual hammerhead manner and headed straight down again. At that point I heard her scream, 'That's enough!' I said, 'Ok,' and closed the throttle, then transitioned gently to level flight. I then throttled back to idle and glided us to a safe landing while her husband (et.al.) watched.
I got the impression that she might have been willing to fuck me, but married women have never interested me. They still don't.
Becoming The Master
(2)
Back from the fridge with beer #4 at 1515. Sip. Yum! Listening to Mozart Piano Concerto #12, buzzing contentedly. Now listening to Piano Concerto #21. This brings me to the end of pre-planned stuff. From now on we'll just have to see what bubbles up, ala last week. Hmm... Back from the fridge with beer #4, buzzing beautifully. Sip. Ok, I like the 'stream of consciousness' theme about flying airplanes, so I'll continue for a while.
Most of flying is (tap) 'self-taught.' (faint boom). First they teach you how to maintain altitude; then they teach you how to turn. Then they teach you aerodynamic stalls and stall recovery.Then they teach you how to take off and land. Those are the basics. Once you can take off, fly straight and level, turn, and land, they 'solo' you. If you survive, they then teach you the more sophisticated stuff. Learning to fly is learning how not to crash and burn. They teach you a lot of other stuff too, of course, like, for example, what to do if the engine quits (pray). But they don't teach you how to fly upside down. You have to learn that on your own tab. (listening to AntiSemitic Music by Karajan. Naughty.) So, one fine day, when I was a part-time flight flight instructor at Littleton Airport I jumped into our Citabria (5087X?) and climbed to about 8 thousand feet ASL. I 'cleared the area,' accelerated to maneuvering speed (120) in a slight dive, then rolled inverted. Sudden chaos!
Hanging by my seat belt... controls inverted... nose low... very noisy... and then I looked at the instrument panel: Oops. The airspeed indicator was pegged on the red line (160? 180?). I was in control of an airplane which would soon disintegrate unless speed was reduced! I closed the throttle and rolled back to the normal attitude. The stout Citabria hung together through it all and I survived to write this blog. I would later conclude that an airplane with a flat-bottomed wing needed to be flown in a very nose-high attitude (angle of attack) while inverted in order to maintain altitude and airspeed.
But that was only the beginning of my self-taught course in aerobatics. I would eventually teach myself spins, rolls (both 'slow' and 'snap') split-S's, hammerheads, lazy eights, etc. And once I learned all that I stopped, satisfied that I was The Master. And I was. (boom)
Back from the fridge with beer #4 at 1515. Sip. Yum! Listening to Mozart Piano Concerto #12, buzzing contentedly. Now listening to Piano Concerto #21. This brings me to the end of pre-planned stuff. From now on we'll just have to see what bubbles up, ala last week. Hmm... Back from the fridge with beer #4, buzzing beautifully. Sip. Ok, I like the 'stream of consciousness' theme about flying airplanes, so I'll continue for a while.
Most of flying is (tap) 'self-taught.' (faint boom). First they teach you how to maintain altitude; then they teach you how to turn. Then they teach you aerodynamic stalls and stall recovery.Then they teach you how to take off and land. Those are the basics. Once you can take off, fly straight and level, turn, and land, they 'solo' you. If you survive, they then teach you the more sophisticated stuff. Learning to fly is learning how not to crash and burn. They teach you a lot of other stuff too, of course, like, for example, what to do if the engine quits (pray). But they don't teach you how to fly upside down. You have to learn that on your own tab. (listening to AntiSemitic Music by Karajan. Naughty.) So, one fine day, when I was a part-time flight flight instructor at Littleton Airport I jumped into our Citabria (5087X?) and climbed to about 8 thousand feet ASL. I 'cleared the area,' accelerated to maneuvering speed (120) in a slight dive, then rolled inverted. Sudden chaos!
Hanging by my seat belt... controls inverted... nose low... very noisy... and then I looked at the instrument panel: Oops. The airspeed indicator was pegged on the red line (160? 180?). I was in control of an airplane which would soon disintegrate unless speed was reduced! I closed the throttle and rolled back to the normal attitude. The stout Citabria hung together through it all and I survived to write this blog. I would later conclude that an airplane with a flat-bottomed wing needed to be flown in a very nose-high attitude (angle of attack) while inverted in order to maintain altitude and airspeed.
But that was only the beginning of my self-taught course in aerobatics. I would eventually teach myself spins, rolls (both 'slow' and 'snap') split-S's, hammerheads, lazy eights, etc. And once I learned all that I stopped, satisfied that I was The Master. And I was. (boom)
Mad Cowboy Disease
(1)
TGIF. Beertime! Amazingly I have six beers left over from last week. I'm seeing a trend here: When the whiskey ran out I didn't replace it; I had four beers left over last week, and they were joined by two more beers this week for a total of six beers. Add a 12-pack to that for a grand total of 18 beers available for tonight. Hmm. Sounds a bit ominous... Old age? Now for tonight's reread... Yep. I like it. I corrected the usual spelling error and am now working on beer #2, buzzing slightly. Time for this week's link dump, the theme of which is, Mad Cowboy Disease. What a glorious zinger! I heard it on CNN the other day and knew instantly what it meant: Texas Ego, Bush type. Texas seems to spawn these folks at an alarming rate. Rick Perry is the most recent iteration, making for interesting politics. Obama's dream Republican ticket would seem to be Rick Perry for president and Michelle Bachman for Vice President! Please God... Please... Please... Please!
----------
Rick Perry is an Idiot. Will he learn from Bush's mistakes?
Obama is leading from behind? I thought that was my exclusive technique. Sniff.
And this little observation zings Ron Paul, who was apparently so taken with Aynn Rand that he gave his son her last name.
Mad Cowboy Disease: The song.
And lastly, Not nice guys, but cowards, finish last.
----------
TGIF. Beertime! Amazingly I have six beers left over from last week. I'm seeing a trend here: When the whiskey ran out I didn't replace it; I had four beers left over last week, and they were joined by two more beers this week for a total of six beers. Add a 12-pack to that for a grand total of 18 beers available for tonight. Hmm. Sounds a bit ominous... Old age? Now for tonight's reread... Yep. I like it. I corrected the usual spelling error and am now working on beer #2, buzzing slightly. Time for this week's link dump, the theme of which is, Mad Cowboy Disease. What a glorious zinger! I heard it on CNN the other day and knew instantly what it meant: Texas Ego, Bush type. Texas seems to spawn these folks at an alarming rate. Rick Perry is the most recent iteration, making for interesting politics. Obama's dream Republican ticket would seem to be Rick Perry for president and Michelle Bachman for Vice President! Please God... Please... Please... Please!
----------
Rick Perry is an Idiot. Will he learn from Bush's mistakes?
Obama is leading from behind? I thought that was my exclusive technique. Sniff.
And this little observation zings Ron Paul, who was apparently so taken with Aynn Rand that he gave his son her last name.
Mad Cowboy Disease: The song.
And lastly, Not nice guys, but cowards, finish last.
----------
Friday, August 12, 2011
Under Attack by Jews.
(6)
I eventually left the USAF and learned to fly airplanes on my own tab. I then acquired my Commercial license on the GI Bill. I became a Flight instructor at Cole's Aviation in Denver. My voice failed. I went (back) to work for Honeywell. My daughter married a Gerash agent. We were all under attack but did not realize it. Mark (the agent's name) introduced us to Pot. Fun! Then LSD. Whoa... Wha!!? HUH?!
A later attempt (tap) was made to introduce me to Cocaine and Heroin (uh... no. I had already learned too much about drugs by reading books after my Acid experiences.) Kathleen eventually divorced the Gerash agent, Mark. It became clear after that, that we were 'under attack' by (tap) 'forces unknown.' I 'retired.' Kootch was pissed (tap). (I have remained 'retired' to this day, with one or two brief excursions into the business world.)
A dawning realization grew in me: We were under attack by Jews. But why?!
(Time to wrap this up for tonight.)
I eventually left the USAF and learned to fly airplanes on my own tab. I then acquired my Commercial license on the GI Bill. I became a Flight instructor at Cole's Aviation in Denver. My voice failed. I went (back) to work for Honeywell. My daughter married a Gerash agent. We were all under attack but did not realize it. Mark (the agent's name) introduced us to Pot. Fun! Then LSD. Whoa... Wha!!? HUH?!
A later attempt (tap) was made to introduce me to Cocaine and Heroin (uh... no. I had already learned too much about drugs by reading books after my Acid experiences.) Kathleen eventually divorced the Gerash agent, Mark. It became clear after that, that we were 'under attack' by (tap) 'forces unknown.' I 'retired.' Kootch was pissed (tap). (I have remained 'retired' to this day, with one or two brief excursions into the business world.)
A dawning realization grew in me: We were under attack by Jews. But why?!
(Time to wrap this up for tonight.)
Naughty, Naughty!
(5)
Working on beer #9 at 1915. Only 7 beers left. Darn. Sip. Interesting how 'the ego' (boom) 'loses its grip' under the influence of booze and other drugs. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? My answer, of course, is, 'Yes!'
There are good drugs and bad drugs and naughty drugs. Booze is a naughty drug. So is Pot. LSD and the other hallucinogens are good drugs. Heroin (et. al.) are all bad drugs. Last sip of beer #9 at 1941.
Ok. I think (tap) we can agree on the word, 'high' as tonight's 'theme.' Drugs and airplanes fit the category. Airplanes first. Lessee... (sipping on beer #10 at 1950). Hmm.
As a child I wanted to fly airplanes. I would watch airplanes fly over me. I wondered how flying that high would affect me. I would throw things in the air, then inspect them to see whether the height had changed them. After WW-II my Uncle Russ learned to fly (on the GI Bill?). He took me for a ride in a Piper Cub. I was hooked immediately. I wanted to be a pilot.
I built model airplanes. I read books about airplanes (Dave Dawson, for example). I learned all about airplanes.
I joined the USAF, but they didn't think I was smart enough to be a pilot. Sheeeit. I became a 'Radio Traffic Analyst' instead, working for the USAFSS. I knocked up a Japanese woman (Kootch) in Japan and married her. Bad Idea: I lost my Top Secret Clearance and therefore my job with the USAFSS. I was 'deported' back to America.
Working on beer #9 at 1915. Only 7 beers left. Darn. Sip. Interesting how 'the ego' (boom) 'loses its grip' under the influence of booze and other drugs. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? My answer, of course, is, 'Yes!'
There are good drugs and bad drugs and naughty drugs. Booze is a naughty drug. So is Pot. LSD and the other hallucinogens are good drugs. Heroin (et. al.) are all bad drugs. Last sip of beer #9 at 1941.
Ok. I think (tap) we can agree on the word, 'high' as tonight's 'theme.' Drugs and airplanes fit the category. Airplanes first. Lessee... (sipping on beer #10 at 1950). Hmm.
As a child I wanted to fly airplanes. I would watch airplanes fly over me. I wondered how flying that high would affect me. I would throw things in the air, then inspect them to see whether the height had changed them. After WW-II my Uncle Russ learned to fly (on the GI Bill?). He took me for a ride in a Piper Cub. I was hooked immediately. I wanted to be a pilot.
I built model airplanes. I read books about airplanes (Dave Dawson, for example). I learned all about airplanes.
I joined the USAF, but they didn't think I was smart enough to be a pilot. Sheeeit. I became a 'Radio Traffic Analyst' instead, working for the USAFSS. I knocked up a Japanese woman (Kootch) in Japan and married her. Bad Idea: I lost my Top Secret Clearance and therefore my job with the USAFSS. I was 'deported' back to America.
Flying High and Low...
(4)
The only other occasion also involved a Citabria, probably 8331V. I took off 'well buzzed,' from the Arapahoe County Airport, flew west to one of my favorite 'low altitude sites' and buzzed around in the area pretty much alone. It was the only time I ever 'touched down' (main gear only, on a dirt road) at cruising speed. Very naughty. (Being gassed; also heavy 'nose rad' (tap) as I wrote that. Gerash apparently wants you to believe that I am lying. But it is Gerash who lies. Gerash is the father (tap) of lies. His entire life has been a lie.
By the way, LSD astonished me in many ways, but one of those ways was to make me aware that my self-image of 'hot-shot pilot' was totally ego-related. Truth! That is one of the downsides of LSD. I quit flying after LSD. I began learning about myself. Fun!
Another ego-related revelation of LSD was my favorite game, chess. I remember playing Kootch a game of chess while in the early stages of an LSD Trip and beating her. Almost immediately I realized that my love of 'kicking ass on the chessboard' was also ego-related, as I felt sorry for her.
Those are the two major 'personality characteristics' which were destroyed by LSD. Good riddance.
And don't ask me about potty training...
The only other occasion also involved a Citabria, probably 8331V. I took off 'well buzzed,' from the Arapahoe County Airport, flew west to one of my favorite 'low altitude sites' and buzzed around in the area pretty much alone. It was the only time I ever 'touched down' (main gear only, on a dirt road) at cruising speed. Very naughty. (Being gassed; also heavy 'nose rad' (tap) as I wrote that. Gerash apparently wants you to believe that I am lying. But it is Gerash who lies. Gerash is the father (tap) of lies. His entire life has been a lie.
By the way, LSD astonished me in many ways, but one of those ways was to make me aware that my self-image of 'hot-shot pilot' was totally ego-related. Truth! That is one of the downsides of LSD. I quit flying after LSD. I began learning about myself. Fun!
Another ego-related revelation of LSD was my favorite game, chess. I remember playing Kootch a game of chess while in the early stages of an LSD Trip and beating her. Almost immediately I realized that my love of 'kicking ass on the chessboard' was also ego-related, as I felt sorry for her.
Those are the two major 'personality characteristics' which were destroyed by LSD. Good riddance.
And don't ask me about potty training...
Sabotage!
(3)
Oops, I just noticed that Blogger is an hour behind us. Oh well. Not important. Sipping on beer #6 at 1653. Only 10 more beers to go... Speaking of which, I also don't ride a bike very well while buzzed. Dangerous! wear your helmet. But I do fly airplanes quite well while buzzed. I tried that on only two occasions, both successfully. The first occasion was on a trip to Lake (boom) McConaughy, Nebraska. I was flying my Citabria, 8331V. Two of my 'friends' and (tap) their wives were already there waiting for us. About 30-40 minutes from landing I requested a beer from Kootch. She obliged, apparently confident that I could handle the situation slightly buzzed. I finished the beer and requested another beer, buzzing a bit. She obliged, probably reluctantly. I remember being buzzed beautifully as we touched down for a perfect landing, then taxied up to the parking area where our friends waited for us. We all then finished the six-pac together. I later flew (thump - Gerash wants us to know that he is aware of the facts of this story) one of the wives around the lake at very low altitude (100-200 feet) buzzing the occasional boat. I would always fly directly over the targeted boat so that nobody concerned could read my N-number on the side of the airplane. On the return trip to Denver a day or two later the engine began to overheat, (faint thump) and I was forced to land somewhere along the route, let the engine cool off, then resume the flight. It was the beginning of chronic engine overheat problems (thump) which would cause me to eventually sell the airplane for a loss. I think Gerash agents sabotaged the (tap) engine by injecting the engine oil with an abrasive powder. I had no idea, of course, that at the time I was being stalked by an insane Jewish queer. Must have been about 1978.
Oops, I just noticed that Blogger is an hour behind us. Oh well. Not important. Sipping on beer #6 at 1653. Only 10 more beers to go... Speaking of which, I also don't ride a bike very well while buzzed. Dangerous! wear your helmet. But I do fly airplanes quite well while buzzed. I tried that on only two occasions, both successfully. The first occasion was on a trip to Lake (boom) McConaughy, Nebraska. I was flying my Citabria, 8331V. Two of my 'friends' and (tap) their wives were already there waiting for us. About 30-40 minutes from landing I requested a beer from Kootch. She obliged, apparently confident that I could handle the situation slightly buzzed. I finished the beer and requested another beer, buzzing a bit. She obliged, probably reluctantly. I remember being buzzed beautifully as we touched down for a perfect landing, then taxied up to the parking area where our friends waited for us. We all then finished the six-pac together. I later flew (thump - Gerash wants us to know that he is aware of the facts of this story) one of the wives around the lake at very low altitude (100-200 feet) buzzing the occasional boat. I would always fly directly over the targeted boat so that nobody concerned could read my N-number on the side of the airplane. On the return trip to Denver a day or two later the engine began to overheat, (faint thump) and I was forced to land somewhere along the route, let the engine cool off, then resume the flight. It was the beginning of chronic engine overheat problems (thump) which would cause me to eventually sell the airplane for a loss. I think Gerash agents sabotaged the (tap) engine by injecting the engine oil with an abrasive powder. I had no idea, of course, that at the time I was being stalked by an insane Jewish queer. Must have been about 1978.
Boozematics
(2)
Feeling rather bland as I finish beer #3 at 1506. Will beer #4 turn out to be the tipping point? Sip? I need music. Lessee... The Wiggles? Yeah! That was fun. Here is a song which was popular back in the '70s: Both Sides Now. I associate that one with, 'I'm Not Lisa.' Oh by the way, I did mail that check; but the IRC web site didn't provide a mailing address so I sent it to Save The Children instead. Hmm. CNN in the background... sip... urgent electro-chemical bladder signals... OK. Back with beer #6 after a quick round trip to the potty and the kitchen. NOW is so fascinating... I love it... sip... What's happening with you right now? You can't escape it so you better learn to love it... LSD helps... sip... 1549 and I recently learned that the new Blogger editor automatically puts your blogposts in 'realtime.' I like that... saves me the trouble... sip... well, this has obviously become one of those 'stream of consciousness' posts where we sip and wait to see what bubbles up. Only a few bubbles so far... sip. Doctor Oz is on TV talking about Yo Dick. I'll bet he totally avoids discussing the 'juicy parts' which were amputated without your permission back when you were only a few days old, and totally helpless... Beer #6 turned out to be premature. I was still working on beer #5, but brought the remains of beer #4 to the kitchen with me for the sole purpose of dropping it in the trash, but thought (thump) that I needed another beer and popped open beer #6, then discovered that I was still working on beer #5 and so I returned the opened beer to the fridge and finished beer #5. I then retrieved beer #6 (sip) from the fridge. Whew. For some reason I have real difficulty reasoning mathematically while buzzing on booze. Do you have that problem?
Feeling rather bland as I finish beer #3 at 1506. Will beer #4 turn out to be the tipping point? Sip? I need music. Lessee... The Wiggles? Yeah! That was fun. Here is a song which was popular back in the '70s: Both Sides Now. I associate that one with, 'I'm Not Lisa.' Oh by the way, I did mail that check; but the IRC web site didn't provide a mailing address so I sent it to Save The Children instead. Hmm. CNN in the background... sip... urgent electro-chemical bladder signals... OK. Back with beer #6 after a quick round trip to the potty and the kitchen. NOW is so fascinating... I love it... sip... What's happening with you right now? You can't escape it so you better learn to love it... LSD helps... sip... 1549 and I recently learned that the new Blogger editor automatically puts your blogposts in 'realtime.' I like that... saves me the trouble... sip... well, this has obviously become one of those 'stream of consciousness' posts where we sip and wait to see what bubbles up. Only a few bubbles so far... sip. Doctor Oz is on TV talking about Yo Dick. I'll bet he totally avoids discussing the 'juicy parts' which were amputated without your permission back when you were only a few days old, and totally helpless... Beer #6 turned out to be premature. I was still working on beer #5, but brought the remains of beer #4 to the kitchen with me for the sole purpose of dropping it in the trash, but thought (thump) that I needed another beer and popped open beer #6, then discovered that I was still working on beer #5 and so I returned the opened beer to the fridge and finished beer #5. I then retrieved beer #6 (sip) from the fridge. Whew. For some reason I have real difficulty reasoning mathematically while buzzing on booze. Do you have that problem?
This Week's Link Dump
(1)
TGIF again. I just finished beer #1 with Kootch in the LR as we watch M and '...Smarter than a Fifth Grader. (tap) I prepared the link dump in advance because it's not something I like doing while buzzing. I also reread last week's posts and corrected one spelling error.
----------
Why Rick Perry is Headed to the White House. Quite good! I love this kind of political sarcasm.
Five Things Obama Should Do to lead. Serious stuff. Gergen's advice sounds good to me. Read and heed, Mister Prez.
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Hubble sights a starry necklace. The necklace Nebula. No two are exactly alike.
The Hourglass Nebula - APOD. Beautiful.
DNA components found in meteorites. (Buzzing nicely as I begin beer #3. Only 15 beers left.) This could be bad news for the folks at the Creation Museum.
How bacteria could revolutionize electronics. Speaking of 'Evolution' this could be quite an accelerant.
A new 'Cosmos' will be on TV. Great on NOVA, Tyson will be even greater on the new Cosmos. I love it! But will I be around to see it?!
----------
TGIF again. I just finished beer #1 with Kootch in the LR as we watch M and '...Smarter than a Fifth Grader. (tap) I prepared the link dump in advance because it's not something I like doing while buzzing. I also reread last week's posts and corrected one spelling error.
----------
Why Rick Perry is Headed to the White House. Quite good! I love this kind of political sarcasm.
Five Things Obama Should Do to lead. Serious stuff. Gergen's advice sounds good to me. Read and heed, Mister Prez.
----------
Hubble sights a starry necklace. The necklace Nebula. No two are exactly alike.
The Hourglass Nebula - APOD. Beautiful.
DNA components found in meteorites. (Buzzing nicely as I begin beer #3. Only 15 beers left.) This could be bad news for the folks at the Creation Museum.
How bacteria could revolutionize electronics. Speaking of 'Evolution' this could be quite an accelerant.
A new 'Cosmos' will be on TV. Great on NOVA, Tyson will be even greater on the new Cosmos. I love it! But will I be around to see it?!
----------
Friday, August 05, 2011
Falling behind (tap) beerwise.
(5)
Time to catch up on the Evening News...
I ate supper too, while I was in the LR. Four beers left for next week! Argh.
Time to catch up on the Evening News...
I ate supper too, while I was in the LR. Four beers left for next week! Argh.
Cosmic Communications Can be Boring.
(4)
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me: NGC 0
gd: No such numb.. wait... I have it penciled in on my map. Is that you?
me: That would be us.
gd: And your problem is?
me: People are starving in Africa.
gd: And therefore?
me: I was wondering whether you could help them.
gd: (laughing) Help them what?
me: Help them survive.
gd: Why?
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I hung up at that point. And since I had the Brown Telephone out already I called Lucifer.
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lu: Hello?
me: Are you aware of the tragedy in Africa?
lu: Yes. Our population is expanding dramatically.
me: I just got off the phone with god. He seemed unconcerned.
lu: He's helpless. He doesn't have a clue about how The Universe works.
me: I thought so. Thanks anyway. (click)
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Then I opened beer #9.
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me: NGC 0
gd: No such numb.. wait... I have it penciled in on my map. Is that you?
me: That would be us.
gd: And your problem is?
me: People are starving in Africa.
gd: And therefore?
me: I was wondering whether you could help them.
gd: (laughing) Help them what?
me: Help them survive.
gd: Why?
----------
I hung up at that point. And since I had the Brown Telephone out already I called Lucifer.
----------
lu: Hello?
me: Are you aware of the tragedy in Africa?
lu: Yes. Our population is expanding dramatically.
me: I just got off the phone with god. He seemed unconcerned.
lu: He's helpless. He doesn't have a clue about how The Universe works.
me: I thought so. Thanks anyway. (click)
----------
Then I opened beer #9.
Overcoming Fear and Certainty.
(3)
Back from the fridge with beer #6. I Missed the Evening News, but CNN is reporting that our national credit rating has been downgraded to AA from AAA. This is serious. As someone who (somewhat) understands 'macroeconomics' I worry (somewhat). The problem - it seems to me - is greed. The Rich apparently suffer from various 'fears' and 'certainties' which afflict only the rich. Hmm. I can only imagine... But wait! I am rich compared to those poor suffering African children in the Horn of Africa. Oops. And I have yet to mail a donation to any of the many (thump) international (thump) aid organizations involved over there. Oops. Ok. I have just faced my own 'fears and certainties' in that regard with the aid of booze and have made the decision to contribute a check for $50 to the International Red Cross marked, 'for Africa.' Whew. This has been gnawing at me for days! What a relief! And what is 50 bucks to me? One visit to KS.
In fact, I was even motivated to use my exclusive (tap) connection to The Almighty! Could I enlist the Jewish god WHTZSNM in this matter? I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Feeling rich?
gd: Get to the point.
me: Africa needs help.
gd: Africa?
me: Earth.
gd: Earth?
me: The Sun.
gd: I need an NGC number, please.
----------
Back from the fridge with beer #6. I Missed the Evening News, but CNN is reporting that our national credit rating has been downgraded to AA from AAA. This is serious. As someone who (somewhat) understands 'macroeconomics' I worry (somewhat). The problem - it seems to me - is greed. The Rich apparently suffer from various 'fears' and 'certainties' which afflict only the rich. Hmm. I can only imagine... But wait! I am rich compared to those poor suffering African children in the Horn of Africa. Oops. And I have yet to mail a donation to any of the many (thump) international (thump) aid organizations involved over there. Oops. Ok. I have just faced my own 'fears and certainties' in that regard with the aid of booze and have made the decision to contribute a check for $50 to the International Red Cross marked, 'for Africa.' Whew. This has been gnawing at me for days! What a relief! And what is 50 bucks to me? One visit to KS.
In fact, I was even motivated to use my exclusive (tap) connection to The Almighty! Could I enlist the Jewish god WHTZSNM in this matter? I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Feeling rich?
gd: Get to the point.
me: Africa needs help.
gd: Africa?
me: Earth.
gd: Earth?
me: The Sun.
gd: I need an NGC number, please.
----------
The Decisive Difference.
(2)
While we're (tap) on the subject of Gerash I should mention a bizarre incident recently where he managed to convey some of his insane (small thump) ideation my way: I was watching a Nightline video concerning the Jaycee Dugard Kidnapping. As I watched, I heard a series of taps from above. The taps seemed to be conveying the message that Gerash considered us to be in a similar situation: Gerash is Phillip Garrido and I am Jaycee Dugard. Very interesting.
There are some similarities, believe it or (thump) not:
While we're (tap) on the subject of Gerash I should mention a bizarre incident recently where he managed to convey some of his insane (small thump) ideation my way: I was watching a Nightline video concerning the Jaycee Dugard Kidnapping. As I watched, I heard a series of taps from above. The taps seemed to be conveying the message that Gerash considered us to be in a similar situation: Gerash is Phillip Garrido and I am Jaycee Dugard. Very interesting.
There are some similarities, believe it or (thump) not:
- Gerash is older.
- We are of opposite 'sex' (Gerash is queer).
- Gerash dominates the situation.
- Gerash manipulates 'the authorities' (the ACSD).
- I am not 'caged.' I can move out of the situation. (But Gerash would insist that I am 'psychologically caged.')
- I am not alone. I have Kootch. (But Gerash would insist that Kootch has been 'neutralized' to some (unknown to me) extent.)
- I am not sexually violated in a physical sense. (Yet.)
- I possess a loaded .357 magnum, and I am willing to use it.
Lucky You.
(1)
Working on beer #2 at 1608. Beer #1 was consumed during Kootch's 'supper' as we watched Millionaire. Also just finished rereading last week's posts (thump). All that on only 11 beers... leaving me with 13 for tonight. Might as well do a small link dump...
----------
I thought I had invented the term, 'Phantom Foreskin Syndrome' until this afternoon while I was stumbling around on the web and Googled it. Not! Rumproast got there first, apparently.
'Immoral, grotesque, unfair.' So says my favorite senator about the 'Deficit Deal.'
----------
'Why such a short link dump?' you ask? 'I learned from experience. Whew.'
As I was cogitating on that term (phantom foreskin syndrome) recently, I made some notes intending to write about it in tonight's blog. First was 'Holocaust Syndrome' (HS). Many Jews certainly suffer from that syndrome. Then there was 'Tribal Tragedy Syndrome,' of which HS must be a subcategory. American Indian tribes also come to mind in that regard. (Could TTS account for some of that legendary AI alcoholism?) (I just opened Kootch's door and burped gloriously. She turned around and gave me a really disgusted look. Oops.) Then there's 'Religious Tragedy Syndrome.' All large religions seem to partake of this particular malady to some extent. Sunni and Shiite come to mind immediately in the Muslim department, and it expands from there: Jew, Christian, Atheist, etc., sect after sect, century after century, syndrome upon syndrome... Group Pathology! (Rain and thunder! Cooler air! Fans on.)
Imagine, if you can (tap), a Jew who suffers from PFS, HS, QS (Queer Syndrome), OS (Obsession Syndrome) - and I could go on and on - attacking you (tap) constantly with microwave artillery, gas, invasion of privacy, and unwanted communications.
Can't imagine that? Lucky you.
Working on beer #2 at 1608. Beer #1 was consumed during Kootch's 'supper' as we watched Millionaire. Also just finished rereading last week's posts (thump). All that on only 11 beers... leaving me with 13 for tonight. Might as well do a small link dump...
----------
I thought I had invented the term, 'Phantom Foreskin Syndrome' until this afternoon while I was stumbling around on the web and Googled it. Not! Rumproast got there first, apparently.
'Immoral, grotesque, unfair.' So says my favorite senator about the 'Deficit Deal.'
----------
'Why such a short link dump?' you ask? 'I learned from experience. Whew.'
As I was cogitating on that term (phantom foreskin syndrome) recently, I made some notes intending to write about it in tonight's blog. First was 'Holocaust Syndrome' (HS). Many Jews certainly suffer from that syndrome. Then there was 'Tribal Tragedy Syndrome,' of which HS must be a subcategory. American Indian tribes also come to mind in that regard. (Could TTS account for some of that legendary AI alcoholism?) (I just opened Kootch's door and burped gloriously. She turned around and gave me a really disgusted look. Oops.) Then there's 'Religious Tragedy Syndrome.' All large religions seem to partake of this particular malady to some extent. Sunni and Shiite come to mind immediately in the Muslim department, and it expands from there: Jew, Christian, Atheist, etc., sect after sect, century after century, syndrome upon syndrome... Group Pathology! (Rain and thunder! Cooler air! Fans on.)
Imagine, if you can (tap), a Jew who suffers from PFS, HS, QS (Queer Syndrome), OS (Obsession Syndrome) - and I could go on and on - attacking you (tap) constantly with microwave artillery, gas, invasion of privacy, and unwanted communications.
Can't imagine that? Lucky you.
