I've been watching this guy's videos for a couple of months now, and all I can say is that his work is always fascinating and provocative. His latest, though, is downright pornographic for anyone (me) who dreams of the Alpaca Lips every single day. I love the fact that he references my homeslices over at The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement. Click the pic to visit their fine spot of virtual real estate.
I screen-capped a portion of Shriekback's latest blog post on Tumblr. The entry concerns my favourite song on their new album, Without Real String or Fish, available for purchase beginning tomorrow, the 4th of March. If you don't get this album for any other reason, you need to get it for Beyond Metropolis. Just click the picture to go to the full blog entry.
Beyond Metropolis is an unprecedented feat of linguistic skill that is 100% not safe for work for anyone who suffers, as I do, from WGS - Wanda Gershwitz Syndrome. And that's all I'm saying about it.
For quite some time now, I've been making a conscious effort to keep up with the news - not local news, but international. Because our reality seems to be in utter chaos, with every indication that it's only going to get worse, my curiosity is understandably piqued, given my fascination with End Times scenarios and the dreadful history of our race. All the while, I've been quietly and, admittedly smugly, saying to myself that World War III had already begun, and it only need be officially announced.
Earlier, I came across this news story, and it made me pause. My normal defenses against fearing the inevitability of our destruction and maintaining a stoic response to the coming storm stopped for just a brief few minutes, and I began to think about all that happened before and during World War II.
Uncle Michael, Aunt Tudi, and The Father Unit were all War Babies, some of the very first in what would be called The Baby Boom. A population explosion is typical during times of duress for, in my opinion, two main reasons: 1) It's a biological imperative that kicks in to preserve the species during a perceived extinction threat and 2) People lose their fear of positive emotions because they feel like, if they don't express them now, they will never have the chance, and people who have loved or are loved may die without ever having expressed or known it.
And so it comes to this. I am afraid, not of being killed or watching the human world die. My enthusiasm for that won't fade, and I've often said I'd volunteer to be the first in line, if it meant our demise would ensure the Earth would continue and flourish with better, worthier species inhabiting it. I am afraid because I am in love, and I have been for a very long time. He doesn't know, and I never expected he would, because I certainly had no intention of telling him. I don't do love well.
If the situation in our world gets increasingly dire, though, I feel more inclined to admit myself. I don't think it would change anything between us, at least I hope not. Fear that it would is what has stayed my hand all these long years. But, if we are all going to die anyway, why should I worry about that? Presently, I fear not telling him more than I fear losing him because, at this rate, I'm going to lose him either way.
Every day, I dream of the Alpaca Lips. I imagine the Earth a quiet realm, except for the voices and movements of the animals, and the ebb and flow of the Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. I bask in the thoughts of every shred of Humanity being erased and replaced with natural, normal things. Good things. Things that do no intentional harm and do not claim dominion over this jewelled planet.
I want us all gone so badly, frankly I ache from the need of it.
Gladly would I surrender my life for this miracle to occur. Most people assume I want the End conditionally, that I might survive it somehow, but that can't be further from the truth. In order for my dream to come true, we all have to die, every human being on planet Earth…as quickly as possible.
The planet needs peace and healing. She will not experience this with even one of our species roaming the surface. There is nothing I would not do to bring about the holy tranquility that would follow the Alpaca Lips.
There isn't a day that goes by, that I don't dream of this.
My beloved Alpaca Lips did not follow through as I was so desperately hoping.
Obviously. Since I'm making an update here.
There's a lot I'd like to write about, but I just don't feel ready for that right now. Honestly, the only thing holding me together at the moment is my unending and apparent desperate quest for laughter. I've actually found that for now in a show I've been watching since late 2011 when it debuted, but have only really come to appreciate and cling to like a freckle in the past couple of months. It's called Impractical Jokers and may well be the funniest show in the history of television, I shit you not. It was developed by the Staten Island Comedy Troupe called The Tenderloins. I would marry every one of these guys at once, if given half the chance. No ifs, ands, or buts. Of course, I do have a favourite, but I'm not really getting into that right now.
Just wanted to touch base and let any readers I may have left know that I am still here, still alive and kicking (myself and anyone in close proximity). I'm still struggling with editing, writing, and getting The Augury of Gideon ready for publishing, which I hope will happen this year. We'll see. I'm still working on music videos for Shriekback, Barry, and hopefully future related projects. I'm still making the Tim Roth Tutorials, of which there are 150 as of today.
I'm taking things one day at a time, although I think now more than ever, it's an uphill battle, and the only way I'm ever going to be able to move forward is to move away from this place. But I don't want to even think about all that right now.
All I want to do is laugh, and forget everything else.
On Wednesday, I had a seizure. In the car. IN THE CAR. Not sure how bad it is yet. I talked to the body shop guy today and he apparently believes it's fixable because he asked if I wanted him to fix the wheel. So, hopefully, it'll be okay.
I'm still sore from both the seizure and the impact, but it could be worse I guess. It could also be better, as in the crash could have destroyed every atom of my being.
What's so bad is, I woke up the morning wondering why I was on the couch, and wondering if Aunt Tudi was okay on the bed.
Fuck Fuck FUCK!
I can't freakin' wait until December gets here. For me, the Alpaca Lips is waaaaaay overdue.
I am waiting for my new car (well, new to me) to arrive in Greenville from Columbia. Hopefully it will be today. It is not the yellow one, nor is it the black one with a red interior (the Maul-mobile!). This Smart Car is red and only has, I think, 3000 miles on it. It's practically new. And it has a few black bits, so I am not complaining. I just need to fine a way over there.
Diane is doing okay. They put a couple of stints in her heart and is making her go to cardiac rehab for, I think, two weeks. I know she can't drive for two weeks, and that's driving up the wall. She's used to be on the move. Even though she griped about never having time at home, Diane does love to travel about. When I get the Smartie, I'm gonna take her for a ride. I'll stuff Bobby in the back, and awaaaaay we'll go!
I found a picture of the first Smart Car I ever saw. Aunt Tudi and I spied it in Cas Gwent (Chepstow), Wales. Aunt Tudi was over the moon for it, and I was right behind her. I told her that someday, we'd have to get us a Smart Car, but she said it was too small for the two of us and the animals we'd have to take to the veterinarian. I understood her logic, but I was still disappointed that we could not get one. Besides, we'd never seen a Smartie in America, so Aunt Tudi and I were pretty certain they weren't even available across the pond.
I dread tonight. Everyone is going to be setting off fireworks and blowing things up. The patriots will be skittering about like roaches, acting like complete idiots like we told we should act. Our programmers and owners demand nothing less. Those of us who have rejected such submissive behaviour will probably end up dead or in a concentration camp. Will that stop me? No fucking way. I am averse to being told how to act and what to do on certain days. It's trite and tiresome.
Speaking of trite, I made a comment on Facebook about not liking Joss Whedon. And here came the faithful Whedonites, telling me that he's the bees knees. It's like some sort of crime to not like Whedon and especially say that you do. Goddess forbid you deviate from the consensus that Joss Whedon is god returned to Earth to save us all. Firefly sucked, Alien4 Resurrection sucked, Buffy, the Vampire sucked, and Angel sucked. The shows essentially all had the same characters, but with different names. I find that reprehensible and more than a little tiresome. Joss Whedon needs to go away, and his fans need to get over themselves. Everyont\e has an opinion; mine is radically different from the Geek Status Quo. And you know what? I don't give on flying fuck.
Ever since Smidgen was left outside overnight and I spent a majority of my time over at Diane's lately, she has attached herself to me like a tribble covered in Krazy Glue. Right now, she's the proud owner of my right thigh. Last night, she lay on my chest and purred until my breast bone felt numb. It is very odd to have a cat who behaves like Smidgen. The last cat we had, Paisley, was fiercely independent. She did not appreciate being petted, she abhored being picke dup, and she was totally intolerant of other cats. Even dogs. She tried to kill my beagle Henry when he was just a puppy. Needless to say, Henry was always submissive to Paisley. For 19 years, I unable to have any more cats. When Smidgen passed, i found baby Smidge tottering along the edge of our fence. She was only five months old and very poorly. After nursing her back to hell, I discovered that she was the Anti-Paisley. It was a strange experience after 19 years of fierce independence and indifference to everything. When the dogs pass, i'm going to hit the road, and Smidgen is coming along with me. I don't know where we'll en up but, wherever it is, they'll have to accept my my wee fur baby. She is eight years old. If she lives as long as Paisley did, she will ve with me for at least another decade. That is, if the Alpaca Lips doesn't happen in December.
If always contented that when the Higgs Bosun Particle was found, it would mean the end of us all. Guess what? They think they've found it with that freak-ass atom smasher in Switzerland. That thing is going to end up creating a tiny black hole that will spaghettify the entire planet. It just shows that Switzerland sucks.
I'm hungry. It must be time for some macaroni and cheese. If only Andy Partridge were here to share it with me. Ho hum.
Earlier this morning (I've been up all night again), this story popped up on my trending feed.
Ancient Egyptians may have chronicled the flickering of a star known as "the Demon," perhaps the earliest known record of a variable star, astronomers suggest.
And that got me to thinking about Nibiru and the Annunaki again, so I ended up here:
Earlier this month, at a meeting of the American Astronomical Society in Timberline Lodge, Ore., Rodney Gomes, an astronomer from the National Observatory of Brazil in Rio de Janeiro, announced the results of his simulation of a region beyond Pluto known as the "scattered disk," suggesting the presence of an as yet to be discovered massive world.
Well, that got me on a roll, so I decided to check out the dark moon Lilith.
The Dark Moon has also been defined as the apogee of the Moon's orbit, or that point in the orbit farthest from the Earth. Both these points, the apogee and the second focal point, lie on the long axis of the orbital ellipse, the line of apsides. Seen from the Earth, they lie in the same direction, and therefore occupy the same place in the zodiac. The second focal point lies at a distance only about 36´000 km from the Earth, the apogee at about 400´000 km. Apart from this, both definitions can be regarded as being equivalent. Because the orbit of the Moon continually shifts forward in space, the Dark Moon moves along the zodiac at about 40° per year. A complete revolution takes 8 years and 10 months.
And, somehow, that led me here. And I larfed and larfed. For obvious reasons. Because, really, I've known this for 22 years now.
Could there be a monstrous, undiscovered star orbiting our own Sun? Could it be scattering killer comets throughout our Solar System like clockwork every 26 million years? New scientific surveys are probing the edges of our Solar System--a realm populated by giant worlds and mysterious planetoid--hunting for Nemesis, the Sun's purported evil twin. We may be on the verge of discovering this ultimate death star, suspected of causing every mass extinction in Earth's history.
The Mayan Long Count calendar may set a date for the end of the world but provides few details as to what, exactly, will happen. Similarly, the Mayan Long Count cookbook lists all the ingredients for flan but not the technique for setting the edges while still keeping the center wobbly. Doomsday scenarios to expect in 2012 include (but are not limited to):
massive geological upheaval
collision with a meteor, planet, or black hole
magnetic pole shift
and/or the second coming of Christ.
Essentially, it's a bacon-double doomsday burger. Supersized.
( more behind the cut )
What's the deal with 2012?
The doomsday 2012 phenomenon comprises a range of beliefs that some type of cataclysmic or transformative event will occur on December 21, 2012. According to certain interpretations of the Mayan Long Count calendar – an ancient non-repeating calendar that counts the number of days since “creation”- the end of the world falls on this day, which will totally destroy the novelty of writing 12/21/12 on checks. This idea also anchors various other theories and serves as the basis for John Cusack's transition to action hero in Roland Emmerich's 2012, perhaps the worst catastrophe of all, at least to anyone who remembers Say Anything.
Foods Most Likely to Survive Armageddon
If nothing else makes it onto your grocery shopping/pillaging list, make sure you have these stalwart edibles.
Those individual packs of crackers and cheese you spread with that little red plastic knife
Canned soups (especially Campbell's Chunky, which supposedly eats like a meal; that should make it go a lot further)
One scenario proposed by doomsday theorists is the sudden geomagnetic reversal of the Earth's poles. Make sure you back up all your computer data before this happens, particularly your MP3 library. The afterlife is a long time, and you're going to want those NPR podcasts.
Alternate Endings (Every belief system has its own end-of-days scenario. Which one is right for you?)
NORSE MYTHOLOGY: Translated from Old Norse as “final destiny of the gods,” Ragnarok refers to a series of major events, including a great battle, a set of natural disasters, and the flooding of the Earth. Afterward, the world resurfaces fertile and anew, repopulated by two human survivors and redecorated by IKEA.
Other Doomsday 2012 Prognosticators
Of course, lots of people – not just the ancient Maya – predicted that the world would meet its demise this year, including:
Nostradamus, French soothsayer
Jose Arguelles and Terence McKenna, New Age philosophers
Kalki Bhagavan, guru
Whoever's in charge of programming at the History Channel
Bashar, an extraterrestrial being who communicates through a human medium named Darryl Anka. That is, whenever Anka isn't busy with his day job as a Hollywood special effects artist for such films as Pirates of the Caribbean and Live Free or Die Hard. (No joke. Check out www.bashar.org and www.imdb.com respectfully.)
Hate the Game, not the Player (get to know the entire cast of characters behind humanity's obliteration – collect 'em all!)
THE WHITE HORSE, AKA “PESTILENCE”: The first of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse described in the Book of Revelation, Pestilence is often referred to as “the cute one.” Some consider him a symbol of evil, others a symbol of righteousness. In this way, Pestilence is Bill Gates, except less nerdy.
Apocalypse by Any other Name...(other terms that can be used to refer to the end of the world)
(and Alpaca Lips of course)
**EDIT** I'm going back out after my tooth stops hurting so bad just to take pictures of those crazy Rapture-obsessed xtians and their lumberjack logs. I'm doing this for you people because I love you.
I am so fucking SICK of living on the buckle of the bible belt!
You be the judge...
- I'll be giving Chester his Summertime shaving, and I'll be clipping all the dogs' toenails. At the very least, this will take me a couple of hours. Right now the dogs are all chillaxing like they haven't a care in the world. Once the toenails start flying, they'll know that the day isn't going to be a business-as-usual day of relaxation. I can hear the angry growls of protest now.
- Blake is supposed to swing by for a visit so he can pick up his birthday card and gift. Aunt Tudi and I scrimped and saved like crazy in order to give him $20. I'm certain he'll be thrilled with the dough. In this day and age, people are thrilled to get monetary gifts, and they know how fortunate they are to be receiving such a gift. Ten years ago, $20 wasn't that big of a deal. Funny how just a handful of years can make all the difference in the world.
- Sometime after the dogs' grooming and family visitation, I'd like to squeeze in some quality time for writing. I haven't sat down to seriously commit some wordage to virtual paper in about a week, and I'm beginning to suffer from the writing withdrawals. Ideally, I'd like to finish "The Last Acolyte" today and begin on the third story in the Cadmus anthology.
- Before I begin my work, I'm having a late breakfast and watching 2012. That movie is like porn for me as I see global mass destruction on an unprecedented scale, and hope that this actually happens next year. The more I watch this movie, the more I get the warm fuzzlies. The only thing I hope does not happen is that anyone survives the cataclysm. Only the animals should survive the 2012 disaster. After all the horror our species has imposed upon planet Earth and our fellow inhabitants, Humanity deserves extinction.
- After my work, I need to do some online research on Ramtha for Todd. I've known about this grifter for decades, and Todd and I have discussed her in the past. He was invited to a dinner party last weekend where the folks discussed a variety of spiritual matters. A few days later, he asked his friend to what group they all belonged because I had asked Todd and Todd didn't know. His friend told him that they belonged to Ramtha's School of Enlightenment. My knee jerk reaction was "Ohhh nooo..." I've already sent some information about JZ Knight/Ramtha to Todd, but I need to send him more. The aim is to ensure Todd does not associate with these people at any depth because RSE is a cult and a dangerous one at that.
So this will take up the majority of my Bealtainne. One more Bealtainne to be had before the Alpaca Lips. I may have to find me a gawgeous man with whom to celebrate my last Bealtainne... If only Vin Diesel would volunteer for God to my Goddess duties, I could leave this mortal coil a happy happy woman. Heh.
Now see, I'm torn here. I really really REALLY want to see The Hobbit, especially if James McAvoy plays Bilbo. But I also really really REALLY want all this bullshit to end. So I'm hoping that, whatever transpires on 12-21-2012, I'll still get to see the movie in the Otherworld and even hobnob with the filmmakers.
stacye13 asked: recent weather disasters being a precursor to the alpaca lips?
Absolutely. My theory is that the planet will change poles in 2012. The Mayans had nailed this natural phenomenon before and I believe that their calendar marks the general time at which the pole shift shall occur. Then all sorts of shit will happen. Will we as a species survive? I hope not, but we've survived it before, so who knows?
We finally got snow. Not ice, not freezing rain or sleet, but full-blown, fluffy, lovely snow. There is nothing more peaceful or sacred than the sound of snow falling upon itself at night. It's like the Earth is whispering herself to sleep. Of course, Duncan receiving so much snow in such a short period of time (I see a good 7 inches in my yard) is surely a sign of the Alpaca Lips. The End Is Coming and it looks like this.
I may go out later on and build a snow thing. It may not be a man or a woman, thus the thing cognomen. If I do, of course, pictures shall be taken.
In the meantime, I need to get with Editor Supreme gunslingaaahhh and have more of the 3rd draft Chalice sent to me to do a final read through just in the event Sophie wants more. It's never a bad thing to be a bit ahead of the game. ::nods::
We talked about all sorts of things: England, SC, NC, naked mole rats, The Joker Blogs, centipedes, millipedes, medications, The Blood Crown, Barry Andrews (I bet his hears were burning off!), young Finn, and Aunt Tudi read her poetry...which gave the place a real coffee house vibe. And Tallis and Paul gave me a gift. Paul named him and I had to draw lips on him to make him the new mascot for the First Church of the Alpaca Lips. Behold Barack Ollama, the mascot for the Alpaca Lips!
We yapped, yammered, and chattered until one of the coffee house staff came up and told us they were closing and we had to leave, so we were essentially kicked out. Ha! But we got in about three good hours of fellowship and bonding so that's really cool. It was great to see them all again and it made me really homesick for England. I had to watch Mr. Brooks, even though I have the song on iTunes, so I could hear young Finn at the end of the movie. Even though I've never met him, I feel like I know the kid. When...not if...when I go back to England (for good), I'll meet him, and I'll hang out with Tallis and Paul more often than than a few hours every three or four years.
I am in a dark place and I'm trying to salvage what I can by withdrawing. I tend to self-destruct when in this frame of mind. I burn bridges. I burn everything. Later, sometimes, I regret my actions. I know enough about myself to know when it's wise to lay low before I just raze everything to the ground.
I remember once, when I was a kid living in the A-frame chalet in Black Mountain, I felt the Bleakness on my soul and I decided to cheer myself up by throwing my balsa wood airplane from the second floor loft and watching it circle slowly to the floor below. I saw where I was doing no wrong; however, Granny expressed displeasure at this activity. Instead of just stopping, I went to the most remote are of the chalet and proceeded to transform my airplane into toothpicks. I couldn't go outside and fly it because the neighbourhood was not the best in the world. I couldn't fly it indoors. What was the point in having it. And, even as it broke my heart to watch my plane reduced to tiny pile of shredded wood, I could not stop myself from destroying it. Why keep it? It was of no use to me and I obviously could not let it be what it needed to be: an airplane. The only logical course of action was to get rid of it.
Throughout my life, I've transformed various figurative balsa wood airplanes into smouldering piles of toothpicks. I've almost always regretted it later, but it never stops me from going there when I become of a mind. What usually triggers it is the feeling of uselessness or hopelessness. If the plane can't fly, just ground it....permanently. Right now, that airplane is me. I don't see where I serve any viable purpose anywhere. I'm frustrated on the publishing front and wonder why I even bother to continue seeking out an agent. One of my literary heroes, Russell Hoban, whose heavenly written voice is sadly barely known in his country of origin, had to leave the US and move to England in order to ever have a hope of a writing career. I have no such option.
The more I observe the ebb and flow of current events, the more it seems obvious to me that I'll always be here in South Carolina, surrounded by people who view me as an aberration, a freak of nature. And, what's so desperately depressing about this is, I know there are people out there of like mind, people who share with me an uncanny world view, and I will never have the opportunity to enjoy any level of friendship with these people. I seem destined to live out my days alone and misunderstood in one of the worst possible places on the planet for someone like myself.
What I have to do is come to grips with this fact of life without destroying the few balsa wood airplanes I've been lucky enough to borrow. There's nothing that I own but a handful of characters no one cares to read. And everything else is so unimportant as to go completely unnoticed at worst, or held in vague disregard at best. I'm weary of the same story playing itself out in my life as time marches on. I'm beginning to wonder if there's a lesson to be learnt from the repetition at all or if it's just some cosmic joke whose punchline is utterly lost on me.
And people wonder why it is I get excited about 12/21/2012.
I woke up in a musical mood. I've been thinking of brushing up on the ole singing box 'cos I'm beyond rusty. I'll start with the ones I'm know and can sing well, then I'm thinking of stretching out to try to strengthen my voice. I'm already a good foot away from a microphone, but I want to get further back, if possible. I want to be able to sing in an acoustic environment without a microphone, just let my voice bounce off wooden walls. If a capella is instrument-free, I think it should be technologically free period. It adds to the performance.
What I really want to do is crawl back into bed, but I know that, if I do that, I won't sleep at all tonight. So I stay up and tend to the tasks at hand.
Oh, I watched Life After People last night. Experts predicted that camels in Las Vegas zoos would escape and go feral, evolving into a smaller, swifter animal of the Western Desert, not unlike a Guanaco. When I heard that, I died laughing. Life After People is all about the End Times and here they are predicting that a cousin of the Alpaca will pretty much take over Las Vegas. Alpaca Lips indeed! So, when the Guanacos and Randall Flagg show up in Vegas, you'll know your ass has had it.
The Stoner Pig look just doesn't do it for me.
In other news, check the icon xevokitty made for me. I love it when folks get involved with the holy message of the Alpaca Lips! And that camelid is just funny as all Sith Hell. It needs a serious makeover. Then again, so do I. That and some sleep.
I'm not the only one who's pondered running off to the wilderness when our society collapses. There's a bevy of people around here who have the same idea, so I figure I'll have to fight some assholes for a patch of forest to share with the beasties. Like other good Americans, I guess I should learn how to shoot a gun, a big one, then buy one. A big one.
Being a super volcano, Yellowstone is long overdue for a massive explosion, or so some scientists contend. When it happens, it could render humanity extinct. Maybe it'll blow in 2012. ::rubs hands vigourously::
- There's a reason why the movie W. is being released so close to Hallowe'en: it's a freakin' horror movie. And what makes it even scarier is that it's based on a true story. Dubya will end up in the ranks of horror movie monsters like Freddy Kreuger, Jason Vorhees, and Pinhead. I can see it happening. He's been scaring the hell out of me for the past eight years.
- Attention all you crazy Russian serial frienders: I don't mind you're friending me. Hell, I'd friend you back if you'd just pop onto the ole blog and tell me you've friended me and introduce yourself! But I don't like being part of some bizarre online competition. So, if that's why you friended me, please defriend me and move along. No harm, no foul. If that's not what you're doing, just let me know and I'll friend you back because I dig people on a certain level despite my rabid misanthropy. I especially like Europeans and I've always been quite fond of Russians, Czechs, and Poles. Slavs in general are of particular interest to me and I've actually tried to teach myself Russian and Czech. That was about twenty years ago, which means I remember none of what I taught myself. That said, I can't understand a word you write in your journal, but that's okay. If you're a legitimate friender, I'll friend you back and enjoy the Cyrillic appearing on my Friends Page. It may prompt me to try to learn Russian again!
- I've decided to not return to the bakery. I'm thinking that Teresa is trying to "punish" me by not giving me any hours this week. Actually, even though I needed those hours, I've had a wonderful weekend, thanks to Teresa's so-called punishment. And her actions stirred within me the last vestige of pride that I possess and that the Man has yet to successfully beat down. I'm no longer a bakery slave! When/If Teresa calls to let me know she finally "needs" me to come back to work, I'm going to inform her that I'm no longer available to work in the bakery and that I'm going to do to her what she did to me. And I'm going to hang up on her. I've already told Tami that I'll be available to work more hours at the Dollar General. When I go in to work on Tuesday, I'm supposed to write down what days and times I'll be available for work. It's gonna be difficult not having that third job, but we'll make it somehow and I'll be saving what little pride I have left so that I can continue to partially hold my head up in this Corporate/Fascist state that's keen on eradicating any capacity for thought and self-preservation its consumers may possess. By the grace of the Goddess and God, I will persevere!
- clumsycake is having a hell of a time trying to find a surgeon who will help her with her bladder problem. Since she has no insurance, she's trying to go through some charity organisations to try to get her surgery. The problem she's having is that tacking up a woman's bladder is considered an "elective" surgery, which means anyone who needs the surgery has to grovel in the gravel to maybe get it down the road. clumsycake is in pain and can't function because of her dropped bladder, yet the powers that be have decreed that her condition isn't that serious and should therefore be treated as an elective situation, if it's treated at all. She has an appointment with a doctor on Tuesday, after speaking with an Ask-a-Nurse nurse, who directed her to Regenesis. Maybe she'll be able to get the help she desperately needs. This is America's health care in action! Stay tuned here for more riveting updates on clumsycake's fearless sojourn into the dreadful quagmire of the US health care system.
- There's something coming on the History Channel at 10PM which is what I'd called Must See TV. It's called Last Days on Earth. If you're even remotely sympathetic to my Alpaca Liptic message here on The Cliffs of Insanity, then you need to get thee hence and enjoy this Feel-Good Television.
- I've decided that, the next time one of my animal companions finds themselves needing a "lamp shade" around their heads, I'm going to request the largest lamp shade available. Then I'm going to cut it into a daisy shape and paint it purple. Then I'd place this godawful thing on my unfortunate animal friend and promptly take pictures. I'm hoping that my animal friend would look like this:
I think Riley would be the perfect candidate for this dandy pictorial project.
- Smidgen is exhibiting something I like to call the Feline Autumn Heebie-Jeebies. When she takes herself outside for any length of time, after she comes in, she has huge pupils and she runs about like a crack whore who's on a particularly festive high. Riley and Motley get the brunt of her FAHJ. Smidgen stalks both of them and just gets the greatest pleasure when she manages a smack on the sly. I'm hoping I can get her on film, walking on her hind legs, her arms in the air, and her eyes black as night. I've noticed that many cats succumb to the Feline Autumn Heebie-Jeebies. The change in the air seems to affect most cats, making them celebrate life to the fullest of their feline abilities. This means that someone is going to suffer and someone else will be amused by their moments of suffering. And the wheel keeps turning....
So I could ride the llama to work, carrying some llama chow or hay or whatever to keep the llama happy in a saddle bag, along with a large bowl that I'd keep full of cold water (ice included, courtesy of Cromer's bodacious ice machine which is on site). The llama could chill out in the shade of the patio right outside the canteen and be showered with affection not only by myself, but also by Röchling employees while they take their breaks. I can also keep an almost constant eye on the llama to make sure it was okay. Upon riding the llama home, my beloved critter could enjoy the llama chow and hay, but it could also eat all the grass it's little heart desired, and neither Llew nor I would have to worry about mowing the lawn very often, if at all.
The only wrench in my new Master Plan is my weight. I need to lose about 40 pounds in order to ride a llama standing at 12 hands without distressing the poor thing to the point of insanity. Given gas prices and my increasing inability to afford the accursed fuel, I may end up losing the weight by walking back and forth to work.
When I was a kid, there was this ice creamery called The Checkerboard. They made their own ice cream and one of their flavours was bubblegum ice cream. It didn't have the bubblegum in it, but it tasted more like bubblegum than bubblegum! It was my favourite flavour at the Checkerboard and I was sorely disappointed when they closed down in 1978.
Other ice creameries opened and some of them carried bubblegum ice cream, but they all put freakin' bubblegum in the ice cream. How are you supposed to eat something full of a thing that you're not supposed to swallow? It's disgusting.
But, today, Aunt Tudi and I went to the Marble Slab in Spartanburg. They had bubblegum ice cream, made fresh at the creamery, and it is sans bubblegum. I taste-tested it and lo! it was good. It took me right back to my childhood, so I bought a pint, and I shall nosh on it for days to come.
In other news, a show called Aftermath is airing on National Geographic. It's all about the Earth after humans disappear. This is like Alpaca Lips porn, I'm telling you. I'm gonna have to change my undies after this show goes off.
- Parker Brothers will no longer be making Monopoly money for their games. They are, instead, creating a "debit" system that will work with the new games as well as the old ones. No more Monopoly money.... Think about it.
- Nicholas Cage is on board to play Liberace in a new bio-pic. ::applies an s.o.s. pad to the brain to scrub away the mere thought of it::
Just a little over six more years and all this insanity will be over.
Well, maybe I do. ::looks at calendar:: Yeah. PMS or PMDD, as "they" call it in me. I prefer to call it MCD: Mad Crone's Disease. Although I think a lot of male humans call it Mad Cow Disease, but not in front of the Mad Cow having an outbreak, lest they get their necks snapped like stale melba toast.
I'm still watching CNN, Paula Zahn, and that story about the Xtians is coming up. Do I change the channel? Do I have a choice? No. Aunt Tudi wants to see it. My curiosity won't allow me to leave the room. My head is going to blow off in the next few minutes, I just know it. Or I'm going to turn green, grow really large and pound things with my hammer-like fists. Actually, that sounds like a great idea. It sounds like a wonderful way to blow off steam.
I kinda hope it is the End of the World, but that's really not a huge piece of news, now is it? I hope it's nothing like what the Xtians believe it's gonna be. I hope the Four Horsemen of the Alpaca Lips come and wipe every last human off the face of the planet RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. I just hope I get to stick around long enough for all the religious freaks to get theirs and good.
And what the hell is it with these hypocristians who lift their hands up during some mealy-mouthed whitebread spiritless so-called 'gospel' song? If I were god, I'd play all sorts of tricks on these bozos. I'd reach down and yank the fool up to the ceiling and knock their dumb ass out, then let their limp body fall down upon the congregation below. Enough times of doing that, then maybe the idjits would keep their hands to themselves.
I dunno. I just want to run amok right now. I want to do something, but I feel powerless to do anything of any real worth. And that pisses me off even more. And I want chocolate. I want a Snicker bar and, when that weird guy with the guitar shows up to sing to me while I try to eat it, I will to shove a chop stick in his eye. Then I'll eat my Snicker bar in peace. And I want a Slurpee, but there are no 7-11s here, so I am deprived. And this pisses me off to a most dangerous point.
There are levels of pissed-offedness: Level 1-3 is Lou Dobbs. You're pissed off, but you can still articulate why you're pissed off and maybe even present solutions to solve your pissed-offedness. Level 4-7 is classic Ice T. You're pissed off. You don't care who knows it. Your creative edge is honed by your pissed-offedness. You're pissed enough to diss on cops, but not so pissed that you won't play a cop on TV. Level 8-10 is Janeane Garafalo. You're so pissed off, you vibrate PO waves that can knock down chauvinist pigs from a mile away. You open your mouth to explain what's bothering you and people laugh, which pisses you off even more. Level 10 and above is Ren Hoek pissed off. You're so pissed off, that you can't even articulate how pissed you are. All you can do is breathe heavily, turn red, let your eyes bug out, and scream "YOUUUUUUU!!!!"
I'm Ren Hoek pissed off.
EDIT: I am apparently so pissed off that I am incapable of noting and correcting typos and grammatical errors prior to posting a rant. I stand corrected, and so does this post. Now kindly piss off.
But California's red seedless grapes are like a Roman Orgy in your mouth, man.
And why was Adolph Hitler so keen on finding Atlantis? I don't think they would appreciated this greasy little fucker with a lip hair that inspired a new form of 20th Century comedy knocking at their watery doors. Leave 'em alone yo. They're waiting for the rest of us idiots to kill each other off so they can reclaim an Earth already promised to them. Let the Alpaca Lips begin, but don't go without trying those nummy grapes.
It just seems to me that everyone is a bit more aware of our pending mortality than we were just ten years ago. Or is it that I'm more aware of people being more aware of the Alpaca Lips? I think not. I've been pretty Alpaca Liptic since I saw the original The Omen in 1979. It's what made me pull out my Rainbow Bible and take a good long look at the Book of Revelation. So I've been pretty observant of End Times trends for going on 30 years now. I think the upsurge of Alpaca Liptic Paranoia is relatively new. It's like everyone got a knock on their front door at the same time only to open it and find that creepy old preacher from Poltergeist II standing there screeching "Yer gawna diiiiieeee! Yer gawna diiiiieeee!" That's a real eye-opener right there, that is.
Come to think...if Revelation has any relevance at all and works in conjunction with the Mayan calendar, then we're already a year into the Tribulation.
After walking in awe in the shadow of Chepstow Castle, Aunt Tudi and I piled into falkenna's car and headed for Bristol where there lies a village called Wick. In Wick there lives falkenna's ex-husband Steve and his 9-year-old daughter Eleri. They were kind enough to extend their hospitality to falkenna, Aunt Tudi, and me, offering us food and a place to sleep for the weekend. And oh!! what food!
When we got there around 8 PM, Steve had concocted a most incredible curry. By his taste, it was mild, but quite fiery for the rest of us, even me, and I like hot and spicy foods. He calmed it down a bit and served the dish with yoghurt to give the curry a more korma-like milder essence. We ate like pigs in a county fair, enjoying every little morsel of the heavenly feast. From what I was told, this was just a sampling of Steve's cooking abilities. He's a brilliant chef and, according to falkenna, getting better every day. I envy Eleri getting to enjoy her dad's food on a regular basis. What a lucky kid.
Dinner finished, Steve drug out his Bill Bailey DVD and I was exposed to the second funniest man on Earth, the first being Eddie Izzard. And Bill Bailey is Da Sexay. He reminds me a good bit of Kevin Smith, but with a Brit accent. Yum...
Honestly, when falkenna told me that we'd be spending a couple of nights in the house with a child, well.....those who know me can imagine my hesitance to go along with such a scheme. Kids and I just don't gel. So I actually went into this expecting the worst, 'cos kids and I just don't gel. Just....Don't.... But Eleri was different! She was very well-behaved, polite, and mature for her age. And she's got a bit of tomboy in her, as she appreciates the subtle nuances of slime and other ookie materials that girls usually don't dig. I did when I was a kid, so I could instantly relate to this child. Oh, and Fae energy just rolls off her like the ocean at high tide. She exists on a different frequency, Eleri does.
On the way back from the White Hart Saturday night, we all got to talking about alien attacks and the Alpaca Lips, specifically War of the Worlds. I mentioned that, if I were a hostile alien race or even in charge of the Alpaca Lips, I wouldn't start decimating the human population by going for the cities first like the "baddies" always do in these movies. Instead, I'd make the countryside inhabitable first, then go for the urban centers wherein the human herds would then be trapped with no hope of escaping to the boonies to regroup and fight my merry band of invading alien assassins. Eleri grokked what I was saying and backed me up by observing that we could also instill a great deal of fear in the humans by going for the countryside first. Humanity would know we were on our way and there'd be no way to fight us, escape, or survive. What a way to go! Right then and there, I decreed that Eleri was my second in command when the Alpaca Lips comes. A kid that young who can think like that is just the coolest thing on the planet, yo.
Sunday morning, falkenna, Steve, and I had a long and engrossing conversation about Paganism and magick, Earth energies and how the land's human inhabitants can leave their signatures on the land, and the madness that can affect a group when someone within the group who may wield a bit of power acts irresponsibly. Yes, ealdthryth and scbearmike, it's a global problem, it seems. Ack.
Anyway, Steve is a brilliant man. He has incredible insight in the workings of magick and the traditions of native peoples, he has a wry and razor sense of humour, often outwitting Bill Bailey on the television, and he is quite charming because, despite his well-roundedness, he doesn't let it go to his head. Steve just is and enjoys being, living life as fully as he can, basking in good food, good drink, and good energies. I like him. And I adore his daughter.
Right now I'm doing a very bad thing by re-reading The Stand by Stephen King. It's only my second reading, my first being in 1980 when I was 12 years old. Even then I could appreciate the wonder of a population-decimating event, but I'm appreciating it even more this time around. I have 26 years of cynicism built up now, 26 years of disappointment in Humanity. Nothing would please me more than to see Stephen King's Alpaca Liptic novel come true.
I know I've said this before, but maybe I joked about it too much. It's not a joking matter to me, really. I truly hope that the Avian or Bird Flu is the One. I hope we have abandoned homes and businesses. I thrill at the thought of quiet highways and silent cities. I am not a good person.
Humanity needs a serious decrease in population and deserves an ass-kicking by some natural force that makes no bones about being outside the realm of Human control. We need to be reminded that we are not in control of this planet or even ourselves to a great degree. We need to lose our capacity for civilisation and be eaten by the wolves for a while. And the Western World needs to get a taste of something this horrific more than any other place on Earth. I'm hoping that Mother Nature leaves Africa alone for once. They've suffered more than enough and are still suffering thanks to Western policy. Let Humanity's homeland in peace! Let it prosper in the wake of worldwide destruction!
I've decided that, should I survive such a holocaust, I am going to go to all the local zoos and free the animals so they will at least have a fighting chance to survive instead of being locked up and helpless when the zookeepers call into work dead. Nothing would delight me more than to see a pride of lions establish dominance on the land that once was Hollywild. I doubt that I'll be one of the ones to be left after the flu flies through but, just in case, when I get my 401k money, I'm going to purchase some tools that will help me cut through bars and locks so I can fulfill my chosen task when the time comes.
If I do get sick with the flu, I need to make sure I go visit some folks at The Pit and be sure to seek out the Feudal Mistress for a drive-by snotting. I can't be put in jail for murder if I'm dead from the flu, can I? And there are so many who need killin'. I just want to make sure they aren't left out of the fray. Wouldn't it be my duty to give the flu to those deserving shitheads? I think it would be.
So, I've mapped out my plans. Spread the wealth if I get the flu, free the animals if I don't. I think that's pretty good. Now, if only the Avian Flu would hurry up and get here.