"Wonder if they still Talk"

I mean Lucifer, and the Big Guy. They were real close back in the day. I mean from what I hear about them I can't believe that they'd really shut down 'all' of their ties. Long term Companions, and all that.

No I think they still see each other sometimes. I mean if I were to drop by the Bosses place after I gets my wings. Well I wouldn't be surprised to see Lucifer in da' Lawd's bedroom wearing cutoffs with his feet up watch'n the game.

It'd be all cozy, and chummy. The Big Guy would say, "...Sid how 'ya do'n!" "Hey Luce toss my pal Sid a cold one will 'ya."

Then we'd settle down with our brews, and watch the Brooklyn Dodgers mop the floor with the Pirates,...again. Even in Paradise them poor bastards ain't got a chance. I'd broach the topic of hell, and they'd both bust out laff'n,...beer shooting out's their noses.

"2023 C.E."

I find a forbidden copy of  "Wild Boys" by the now criminalized 20th century author William Burroughs. This in a used book stall. I'm amazed there's one still around. I mean after the "Literary Purity, and Religious Freedom Act" was passed. I paid in Bitcoin script, and hid it under my shirt. I took it home turned out all the lights. I climbed into my hall closet with a flash light. I crouch, and slowly open to the first page.

Suddenly police dogs barking a chopper hovering overhead with search lights stabbing through the curtains. The sound of boots stomping up my building's stairs.

Life in Tomorrowland.

"The Adventures of Evil Lassie"

"Wuff wuff wuff!"

"Whats that Lassie?"

"You say that grampa is trapped in the uranium mine?"

"Wuff wuff wuff!

"He broke both legs, severed his spine. and is bleeping from the mouth with radiation poisoning?"

"Wuff wuff wuff, grrrrrr, wuff wuff grrrrrr wuff wuff!"


"You say we should leave the sadistic old bastard down there to die the miserable death he deserves."

"Wuff wuff wuff, grrrrrr, wuff wuff grrrrrr wuff wuff!"

"...and we should sell the farm, cash in the inheritance, and go to Vegas'n get laid, and drunk for the rest of our lives."

"Wuff!"

"Good Dog!"

(Episode One of a Sydneyland dramatic series.)

"Peter Rabbit in the Age of Terror"

“Once upon a time”

Peter Rabbit was drafted into Farmland Security. His Sargent was a raccoon with a serious pine cone habit. He was mean had bad breath, and yelled at poor Peter all the time.

The food was awful, and the other bunnies called him names beat him up, and stole the carrots which his mommy had sent him.

There was also a rumor of sexual abuse

Oh, but Peter was still the sweet bunny that everyone knew, and loved.

Well  yes he did shoot farmer McGregor,…and his whole family.

...but you must admit that lot had it coming.

The McGregor farm massacre, and all his other random shootings did make him a little sad. However Peter was after all just a rabbit so he forgot most of what he’d done.

Well after some book burnings, and executions of assorted malcontents Peter's tour of duty  with Farmland Security was over. He signed the oath of secrecy about all the folks they shot, and he hopped home to his Mama for a nice supper of cabbage stew.

“Anything interesting happen on your way home from Farmland Service Peter?”

Asked Mama rabbit giving all of her sweet babies second helpings of carrot pie.

“Um, no Mama”,…said Peter.

“Well other than blasting that redneck McGregor to bloody shreds, and jelly,..no.”

“Good said Mama Bunny” “That rancid turd killed your Papa, ate’em too”

“You did right son!”

“Thank you Mama”, said Peter.

The End.


Stay Tuned.

"RFD"

 I always wanted to see that missing episode of "Mayberry RFD". 

The one where "Otis the drunk" took "Opie" to his first Klan Rally. Well "Aunt Bee" forgot to cut eye holes in his hood, and "Opie" nearly stumbled into the burning cross.  

...Then! 

"Otis" fell off the grandstand dead drunk, and "Opie" had to drive him home. 

The plot thickened when on his way home young "Opie" gives some  Beatnik Civil Rights workers a lift to the train station. They was beating it out'a town so they wouldn't get lynched. Anyway with Otis passed out in the back seat the guys decides to turn "Opie on

They gives him some ganja, and a blow job...they was Queers of course like all them beatnik hippie northern race-mixer trouble makers.

Well one thing leads to another, and "Opie" becomes a secret Civil Rights activist...spreading around leaflets, and graffiti against the Klan, and assorted Nazis. He also started an underground chapter of the *"Mattachine Society" in his high school. 

(...an early 20th century Queer Rights group.) 

'But I digress.

I really was looking for the menu for the Chinese take out place,...they're new, and are open all night. Swell now I can have beef w/broccoli  whenever I like. Truly this is a Great Republic!!


Stay Tuned.

"American Gods"

Our Gods, our living, and secular Gods are real. They don't live in the sky or faraway heavens. They have zip codes, and mail drops.

...they answer our prayers too!

"Prayer"

All the world prays.

Whenever where-ever for whatever.

The prayers ascend through clouds past worlds even stars.

Till they fall.

They fall onto an abandoned side street.

There's an old phone booth there.

Slightly bent over from where a truck backed into it.

The phone is ringing.

These are prayers.

The rings.

Millions of them. ...Billions.

Ringing.

Unanswered.

Forever.

Amen.

"The Madness of Angels"

Beware inking down of your dreams. They'll either end up in some future holy scripture, and or as evidence at your trial. This runs through my mind as I try to make a kind of coherent sense of my dreams of late. Dreams enhanced by the pharmacology of Emerald City health-care.

Long may they dispense.

To the matter. Time is not linear, and space warps. The damned thing stretches contracts , and twists. Like origami on crack whiskey, and pastries.

I mean just ask Niels Bohr...he'll give you an earful.

My nausea simmers my vision jump cuts. My hearing enhanced painfully so. I have never had the pleasure of chemical withdrawal. I'm not sure I recommend it.

However the Dreams.

They in their wonder grotesque horror, and frightful majesty. (...same could be said of the recent "Trek" movies.) All this noise to direct our short battered lives. Blessed are they that have no memory of theirs.

Just emerged from a mist where it was made plain in the vagueness of that realm that no you ain't from here. Neither is your family. Not your line nor the lines of many others. 

Elsewhere, and Else-when.

I wonder if the "Twilight Zone" was not just an entertainment, but a message.

A "Cook Book".

"Not Just".   That, and all the other strange stories wonderings, and essays. These that the "different" keep writing, and putting before our eyes.

Pain.

Pain for many days. Confusions. That, and my coming here to you. My family my friends all I have in the world. My digital "Hearth, and Home". If done right these platforms of meeting could be such a miracle. It is, but could be so much more. ...just needs a bit more heart, and introspection.

I'm not from here?

Well that would confirm certain oddities from early childhood. Hearing singing as I fell to sleep. Seeing the sky as different colors from what I was told it was. Remembering sight of the Earth from far above, and away. I saw, in dreams?, our cloud covered home as we see it now. I saw it as it really is before there was the evidence of science.

"I'm sorry,...what the fuck is going on?

Not from here.

...Some elsewhere else-when. Now my eyes hurt. Those that have issues know how pain is fluid. It likes to move. It is the ultimate tourist at home. I'm intermittently grateful. This for making me aware. For helping me endure life sharply, and perhaps more respectfully.

My nausea meds seem also intermittent.

Not too much information. I'm sharing the full Monty as pals should.  Soup. Hot soup, and a used DVD. Through the ages these have been known to calm the mad cure the lame, and halt, and just bleeping chill you the bleep out.

Be back soon.

"Meat on Friday"

Millions of Roman Catholics, and their attorneys were somewhat taken a-back as news of the demise of the Supreme Being was releases by both NASA, and the Chinese Space Agencies. Floating in orbit about Mars the remains of what many believe to be the "Big Guy" is to be retrieved for examination. 

What he was doing out there, and how He was done in is a matter of sweaty speculation. Satanist are being interview by Official bodies for leads in the investigation.

Calculations estimate that although this entity is thought to be you know who he's actually rather petite. Measuring in height no more than four foot eleven. That, and apparently wearing female makeup. News that the Lord of Hosts is not only dead,...and short, but a suspected transvestite, and possibly Homosexual has commentators abuzz with speculation.  

Besides the Lord of Lords floating in Mars orbit the Hubble Telescope also found what seems to be the mortal remains of Godzilla, King Kong, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Snow White.

The reality of these characters thought till now to be works of fiction have thrown a rather large subjective monkey wrench into what philosophers had thought was reality. 

We should expect a number of sweaty confused, and incoherent press conferences, and documentaries by theologians comic book artists politicians science fiction writers, and assorted nuts with guns, and whiskey.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A follow up on our 'Bulletin' above!  With the passing of the Lord of Hosts in the orbit of Mars a general call has been put out by a Synod of all the major, and whack job religions of the world.

A casting call to the multitudes for the job of Supreme Being.  

On the retrieval, and careful examination of the previous Gawd it was found the he was just some guy. No holy whiz bangs whatever.

He apparently was Hatfield Broadjump a former plumper for the Kansas City Department of Mental Hygiene. He went missing on his lunch break in 1932, and it seems had been Gawd ever since.

Btw his death along with the deaths of the others found in Mars orbit remains a mystery.

Seems a contract was found in the back pocket of his liquid metal robes detailing the job, and how it's gained, and passed on. According to this document this has been going on forever. Our Gawds are just regular folks chosen at random to care take this end of creation.

Apparently there are other Gawds all over the universe doing the same thing for their patch. As for if there's a Boss of Bosses somewhere we don't know. Which sort of puts us right back where we started in this whole religion gawd thing.

Anyway once the sucker is chosen, and the contract signed,...eh with just a pen. None of that signed in blood stuff for this gig. All that noise is set aside for the 'other' position. Ahem.

Once the mark is signed sealed, and delivered he gets all the powers, and hard times all gawds have to put up with. As the contract sez, "...Chose Carefully.

"Social Chaos Shelter"

In the old days we'd have Civil Defense protection during times of danger, and confusion. Now it seems we're on our own with a chaotic political system, and random death on the streets.

If there were such Shelters I'd be there right now.

When I was a child in the 1950's "CD" Shelters were a common sight. Both left-over WW2 shelters, and the then newer fallout ones. Perhaps they should re-install these handy things.

They are most certainly needed.

If you see that you're about to be shot or beaten by Cops Gang-Bangers or raped by maniacs you could flee to these safe places! They are needed now as never before because we are in fact in a state of Social Chaos!

"Social Chaos Shelters" must be built, and stocked with stuff to chill us out. Cute android cats musical instruments root bear candy teddy bears medical personnel , and Militia troops with heavy hardware to vaporize the cops criminals, and assorted maniacs that chased us in there to begin with.

Eh, high speed connection assorted calming medications, and cable go without saying.

Stay Tuned.

"The Worst Candy In History"

Not since "New Coke" has the junk food empire got it so wrong. The pretzel M&M's taste, and look, on the inside, like sawdust candy. Some comrades, and I had the misfortune of consuming this crap.

One is left with the dry taste of powdered wood chips, industrial glue, unconvincing flavorings, and a minor headache after eating this swell stuff.

The mafia vending machine company stuffed our junk food dispenser with tons of this roach motel fodder. That along with various brands of embalmed cookies.

Alright this mutation won't kill ya, probably, but it sure ain't the refreshing sugar rush you were looking for.

It's projected to be among the 10 'worst' Halloween candies for 2010. (...not counting the traditional apples embedded with razor sharp metal bits, candied meats, and Canadian pennies.)

These maniacs must have made billions of metric tons of this awful stuff, and intend to unload the lot on an unsuspecting public.

Beware you out in the world. It's coming. Be afraid, be very afraid.

(Even their cute official spokes-digitoons have doubts about this evil marriage of unlikely ingredients.)

"Heaven,..it ain't what you think"

John Donne, Enrico Fermi, and George Herriman, he invented Krazy Kat, were in a bar in one of heaven's rougher neighborhood's. Ya know, that real scary part near Hell's Gate.

The guys was shoot'n the breeze, and getting sloshed.

Jesus was behind the bar mix'n drinks, and Bessie Smith was on stage singing some of her new stuff. Mozart was playing backup on base, and electric fiddle, with Bob Marley on keyboards.

Harriet Beecher Stowe was passed out in front of the cigarette machine. An unlit Chesterfield sticking out of the side of her mouth, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels at her feet.

Heaven is really hard for some people.

Just then Queen Elizabeth the First, a very young Eleanor Roosevelt, a stoned Marilyn Monroe, and Emma Goldman wanders in.

Well ol' George invites the gals over for a few, and they has a merry old time together. Hey it's Heaven right?

As usual Donne eventually sez something stupid, and anti-Semitic, Emma leaps across the table rips off his wig, and punches him in the nose.

Enrico swings at her with a beer bottle the Queen bashes 'him' with her rod'n scepter!

...fore ya knows it they's rolling around on the floor beat'n the crap out'a each other.

Marilyn was passed out in the ladies shitter, and missed the whole thing.

Jesus who was on the phone with his nosy Mother didn't notice, and the folks on stage had seen it all before. What the heck they'd already been paid.

Anyway in walks Zeus, and Yahweh....

"From my Invisible Book"

Chapter 8, "My Fucked Up Dirty Secrets"

Yeah 'that' goes into the damned book too. I figure some number of blank sheets ending with, "...that's what I did not once, but countless times."  ...and I'd do it again!

The readers would be invited before hand to write on the blanks all that they think I was up to. All the bleeped up crap they imagine...or 'know' I did. This with inserted photos charts testimonies,...see above, the works.

'Be the most popular part of the book.

I might devote a whole other future volume to just the reader's entries. Then I'd pitch it to Netflix, and finally retire to the standard I so richly de-fucking-serve.

There are problems. Many of my rants are profoundly dated, and so un-funny. Others with age are just plain stupid. However wanton desire, and strong confused emotion are timeless so there's plenty to choose from.

Anyway,...Onward! 

"Beneath Lavender Skies"

"Ken" as he is today." Noted scholar researcher author artist/poet actor model, and former City Council-Person of the City of San Francisco. He's also a Gay Activist. Was one of the founding members of the California "Gay Activists Alliance".

"Ken" along with his lifelong friend, and former wife "Barbie" are about to embark on an international book tour.

His latest is called "Beneath Lavender Skies". It's his long awaited Autobiographical work of his time in the Mattel Toy Company. His meeting Barbie the forced marriage. The deep closet years Aids police, and FBI blackmail.

Most of all President Obama's work to help him clear not only his, but the names of countless dolls, and fictional characters with both government, and local police files being held over them.

Above is a portrait of Ken taken for this interview, and the infamous 1978 mug shot of Barbie.

This was taken when she was arrested trying to intervene for Ken when he was being beaten by "Toon Police" on the front steps of his own home. They punched her out, arrested her as a prostitute, and made sure all the tabloids got the mug shot.

Ugly days indeed.

This incident too is covered in detail in the book, "Beneath Lavender Skies". The Captain in charge, now retired, is interviewed. For the first time he officially reveals where the orders for the "Ken" hit came from,...a Shocker!

"Beneath Lavender Skies", Oxford University Press. To be released March 15th of next year.

"Time, and Again"

Given how things are I've come to the conclusion that in previous lives I was either a woman or at least a dress mannequin several times. Also various hats, and carpentry tools.

This doesn't count the lives in which I was a pencil sharpener or a toaster.

"Listen to the Silence"

They say you either have faith or you don't. Well I have both...do both. My kind of faith is like a radio receiver that picks up signals that whip in, and out as my life goes along.

Sort of like when you're on the interstate, and all those local stations fade away only to suddenly come back sharp, and loud with different call letters, and another underpaid announcer.

Anyhow that's how I believe.

There's times when my phone is backed up with messages from Paradise prefixed ,"...Urgent!!" Then there's months, years even decades of silence.

It's the "Silence" that interests me because I think Gawd or at least some faction of upper management is really trying to get though.

I meditate on G-d's silence.

I drift, and swim through it. It's the non-static of the multiverse. Before digital TV you could tune to an unused channel, and hear the long ago birth sounds of creation. Songs so full of high'n low trills, distant thunders, and whispers.

Now there's silence. The silence of now. The calm quiet of both the Creator, and Creation thinking things over, and wondering what to do next.

"Barbie has the Shit Beat Out of Her"

Barbie who was on her way to the "Mattel Annual Christmas Chanukah Bar-B-Q Pig-out" got done! Our hero already blitzed from the all day parties in Toyland wandered into a "Don't Shoot" demo on Rodeo Drive.

She apparently thought it was some sort of house to house caroling group, and joined in.

She sang "No Justice No Peace" with she thought the other carolers. She later commented, "...a rather odd carol, but what the Hell it's Christmas I thought."

When they passed a Ralph Lauren Boutique she tried to enter. 

The Cops thought she was a looter, and kicked the living bleep out of her. All the while she tried to explain to the heat that she wasn't a, "...Negro!" That, and, "I'm a rich White person stop killing me!" 

Having lost all her cards, and I.D. she spent a hellish week in the system. "My goodness",...said the world famous toy. "The noise,...and the people." Prison is absolutely dreadful."

"You mean this is how Colored people are 'always' treated?!" Said the shocked bruised disheveled fashion doll.  "Something must be done",...said she stamping her foot for effect.

"No wonder my maid is always pissed off."

More on this as the Revolution proceeds.

Stay Tuned.

"Cobbles"

Barbie realized that life as a cloistered Nun was not for her. She 
departed the convent of "Saints of the Burning Hook", and slowly         walked the wet cobbles to her waiting Limo.     

"The Home Front Gets the Truth"

"That's just how it was guys. War is fucking evil. We butchered, and murdered each other day after day. Everything stank, everything was blown to hell."

"There was bits of torn up bodies theirs ours didn't matter it was all heat rot, blood shit, and death. It wasn't like that crap they show in the movies. It was just death bullshit, and more death."

"...nuthin' else to say."

"Mother Nature’s Sons"

PART I

I could never understand why the sight of boys kissing would put such fright into so many. I remember the first time I saw two teen guys kissing. Heck I was a teen lad myself at the time. I was 16, and gleefully stumbling around Central Park happy to be on my own, and not under anyone's supervision for a change.

There was a seriously confused Anti-war demo/Be-in going on so I drifted towards it. Mind you I wasn't a full consecrated hippie at the or ever for that matter. I couldn't afford the costumes drugs communes or the rich scumbag background that would support all that.

I was just another fucked over black teen looking for company, and or freedom. Both these things are a rare commodity in any life or era.

Well like I sez I drifted into the Sheep Meadow which at that point hadn't had any sheep in 40 years. Now it's close to 100.  Well no sheep, but there were some Queer teen boys on the grass. Holy Crap!! They was kissing like there was a prize 1956 hot pink Thunderbird at the other end.

Of course I tried to be hip.

I mean after all this was '1966'. Granted this can still get you killed on 'every' part of this planet in 2017. However I took this vision from my most holy of holies my most quiet desperate dreams in stride.

I didn't faint.

Still the sight of these sacred goings on made my tender Heart flutter. Like a month earlier when my proto boy friend put his arm around my waist. I mean right there in the open. In the hallway of my sad dreary school/prison/madhouse.

Odd that. I mean he could have stuck his tongue down my throat ripped open my pants pulled out my eager cock, and sucked the hell out of it, and me. This with no one batting an eye.

Odd indeed, and the topic of another story.

In the shadow of urban mayhem. Mother Nature's embarrassing step children were at play in the fields of the Lord.

My passionate desire was to be able to do the same with my high school heart throb,..."X".  

Nice that, "X", sort of what a sweet 19th century Vermont lady would call a lover in the romantic novel she was secretly writing.

Btw I once wrote an "R" rated story about that fumbling, and intermittent affair. One day before I kick the bucket I mean to make a little video about it.  I plan to use dolls, and puppets. 

Anyhow seeing happy perverts going at it is where so much of the murderous rage of the bashers, and haters comes from. 

The sight or even the thought that this fills them with killing rage, and for more than a few secret desire. Life love desire hate rage quite a stew.

I think this is at the core of what makes bullies to kick the shit out of the innocent. That, and drive Queer youngsters to their deaths. This is the engine that drives the wicked, and cruel to do their evil work.

Just the thought of such a simple tenderness pushes these wounded angry souls to violent madness.


Fear is the true root of all evils.

PART II

"Book of Days"

I have a very strong maternal protective instinct. I have a strong nurturing nature. This came in handy for helping to raise a brood of nieces, and nephews.

We had a large extended family so when babies started showing up both in, and out of wedlock there were always some of us around for child care duties.

My youngest sister started to have babies just as I dropped out of college for the third time. So I was home while she went to school. For reasons Angelic I suppose I wasn't allergic to baby stuff. Like them endlessly crapping.

Lesson one...wait till their finished before changing. Oh wow what an adventure. I'll leave all that jazz to your imaginations.

Thing above all is I just loved them so. I love babies, and kiddies in general, and they seem to like me fine. I think in another life if this is what really happens. I believe I was a mommy with a platoon of kiddies. 

This is probably why I loves boys so much. Those that have been in my life I've protected, and nurtured. Naw I never banged no kiddies give me a break. But then I've learned I can't care what the world thinks. Just what those I've loved think.

Here's a story all this just reminded me of.

Back in 1969 I joined a Queer group called Gay Youth. It was the first on planet Earth organization for Queer teens. Wow how about that. I was only in for a short time as I was going away to college the next year, but it was a very full year.

All that becoming a man independence from family, and fun scary adventures. I was in several gay bars, and clubs that were raided by both cops, and hoodlums. "...scary, and exciting."

These raids were "after" Stonewall btw. Raids continued for years after the riots.

The point is I had a special friend "X".  That's sweet like a character in an  love novel published anonymously by a nice lady in Vermont in the 1880's

Anyway he was younger just turned 15, and  I was just 18. I had just got my Draft Card...Google that. My beloved "X" was very sweet gentle, and thoughtful. Very sexy too. Just the sort to be devoured by a vicious world.

"X" is a happy memory.

Sure there was fucked up shit...his insane parents, and brother that wanted to kill him. Just like today when Queer teens are butchered by friends or family.

Other than the threat of murder everything was fine.

We were all under that threat then as now. However to the point. We were friends, and in a kind of love lust stoned madness. Yeah "X" was the first person I got high with. 

Oh btw he was very fem a sweet Sissy boy which is why he went through such hell, and why his own family wanted him dead or exorcised of demons...they were Catholics too so you can imagine.

My family didn't really take my Queerdom that seriously. I was fortunate as hell my folks were they way the were. Sure they were nuts insane beat us when we were little, and yelled too much, but so did all parents back then. 

All the Great Depression Jim Crow, and WW2 generation were angry, and generally nuts.

Despite this they were weirdly tolerant at the same time. Both of my folks being in show business for a while helped. My mom had a Queer roommate when she went to City College, and sang at clubs at night. Dad played big band piano so ran into queers every day.

All this to say Queers weren't space aliens to them. So when I turned up it wasn't that big a deal. My bringing "X" home was mostly okay...eh with the very very clear understanding that there would be no funny business in the house...or backyard or garage or basement or roof or back seat.

...or anywhere else my Mom could think of.

Anyway my sisters, and my folks liked "X", and felt protective of him when I told them about his home life. There's no big finish to this. I had a warm stoned slightly sexual relationship with him for a year. I eventually went away to school as to keep me out of Vietnam, and eventually into the middle class.

Neither of us wanted it to happen, but we did drift apart. Such is part of life. Two youngsters separated getting involved with new people new weird adventures...we separate, and move on.

To nurture, and protect.

"...fuck"

"WAIT A MINUTE…!"

You mean I went through all this fucked up insane shit...nearly got killed  went flying through the air crashed in this weird hell hole had to hang out with a bunch of mutant two foot tall sociopaths had to shit in the woods got molested by that tin guy, and the Queer lion, got chased by fucking demon flying monkeys fucking witches after me got bleeped up on poppies got molested ‘again!’ this time by that phony wizard guy, was fucked over by everybody in his weird ass Emerald City….and you got the ‘frigging nerve’ to tell me I could’a got out’a this fucking nightmare just by clicking these damned stupid shoes together?!

"Dreams"

I had another of those dreams. I was walking..so far..I was walking so very very far. My feet hurt I looked down they were bleeding. I left foot prints of blood on grey concrete.

This place was bleak.

All seemed made of the same course grey stone. The road, and the low rise building on either side. Grey cold. I seemed to have companions, but could never quite see them. I was I think homeless wandering. I lived this once before though now it was in a dream-scape.

It was always noon.

No morning no night no evening.

I was near a sea. There were submarines diving just off the coast. so many. It seemed as if squadrons of them were slowly going down one after another.

...and there was singing.

The "Sailor's  Hymn"...I could faintly hear it in the sea's distance.

"Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep,

It's own appointed limits keep;

Oh hear us when we cry to Thee,

For those in peril on the Sea!"

And so they dived. All manner of submersibles. WW2 Gato Class subs to today's California, and Montana Class nuclear Boomers. 

The sea washed the blood from my feet.

The dream morphed as they do, and I was sweeping the floor of an abandoned building.  I was nearly naked. I wore just scraps of rags. I heard a baby crying down the hall. I went opened the door, and saw the child's shadow...just the shadow. The room held a shadow which cried, and cried.

I closed the door, and returned to sweeping.

Another morph, and I was rummaging in a bin for cloths. They were all like the thin rags I was wearing. A person came, and handed me a pair of new jeans. 

...and a silver dollar.

She said I could sleep on the roof. She said the birds would "protect" me,..."they protected everybody" here.

And I did sleep on the roof. I slept in the eternal noon of that world. I lay there as swarms of birds danced above.

"Majik

Enough despair, enough war, and stupidity, and grief. How to break through to the Majik. The bright wonderful strange worlds that exist side by side with ours. The visions we have of the "other side" are all confused, and jazzed up with religion, booze, dope, lust, boredom, and rage. It's there though. Sometimes the visions, the dreams are crystal clear.

There are these moments we see, and there is no doubt, no bullshit, the cool stuff is real Real!

Everyday can be beautiful, everyday is a trip to Coney Island, the nicer parts of Paris, Grandma's house, your girlhood/boyhood dream of your best friend's bed when the parents are away, puppies, kittens, bunny rabbits, fields of flowers, free cable, free tuition, getting your book published, and no tax's for life!

Not only Freedom, but Happiness is Possible!

"Blue Monks"

I had a very vivid dream long ago about a monastery, and monks with sky blue robes. There were newly built pagodas sitting in pastel green fields. I could smell the fresh cut wood they were built of. In this dream I was a young novitiate running up the stairs with the other boys. 

We were monastery lads decked in simple robes the color of the summer sky.

I remember crystal gardens, and rose mountains in the distance. There was music too. A kind I'd never heard before. Though it hummed, and danced within my heart, and soul.

I always felt that someday I would find this place. Either in another dream or another life. To this day I feel that this was where I was supposed to be, and this dream was calling me home.

"Saint Stephen's Day"

Actually this isn't St. Stephen's day have no idea when or who he is,...actually I just made him up. So what they're 'all' made up. However I made him up as I was thinking about how screwed over tens of millions of us in the "Land of the Free" are.

There are 'more' poor, and struggling folks in this rich country than there are total populations of whole countries in Europe. 

We should be ashamed be we're not. 

We don't even talk about them It's as if they didn't exist. The Occupy Movement shined a light on them for a short time, but we've already forgotten. Not even our hero Mr. Obama mentions them hardly.

Anyway the non-semi-existent Saint Stephen was an ancient Christian troublemaker that took all that "love each" other jazz as if they meant it. So he went around caring for them in need. Even as for real unknown Saints continue to do today.

This post is about all of us good comrades regardless of social station becoming unseen Saints. In other words give for heaven's sakes. No big show just do it.

For example I'm frigging broke as hell, but carry change specifically to give to them that needs.  Those of you dear comrades better off can carry more, and give more...so bleeping do it.

Yeah I know everyone is told the poor are a gang of tramps that don't wanna work, and will use what ya give to buy drugs'n booze.

Gimme a break.

So what if a few do. Give the bleep anyway. It's fun being an invisible Saint. Humm, maybe we should come up with secret hand shakes or membership cards maybe t-shirts...although that would blow the secret part. Look we'll figure something, but in the meantime do the right thing.

Invisible Saints trading cards collect the whole set. Yep at the top of the post, and just above are two of the new series of "Cool Invisible Saints". Hey the next one 'could' be of YOU!

So get out there, and do your Holy Works...you'll be glad ya did. The poor bastards ya feed could be someone you knew a distant relative...or Me!

Stay Tuned.

"If My Life were a 1950's TV Show"

If my life were a black, and white 50's TV program this would be my outro script.

Uncle Sydney, 

Outro theme,...live w/ recorded effects.

Canned applause...

"Good night folks, and thanks for coming by."

"Remember next week our special guests will be Eleanore Roosevelt, and "Chee Chee" the amazing singing dog!"

"So goodnight drive carefully, and please give to the Charity of your choice."

"So long G-d bless, and see you here next week." 

Applause slowly fades..Que announcer.

Network Announcer,...booth six,

"Uncle Sydney's True Life Adventures was brought to you by "Dr. Pepper" the makers of fine cleaning products. Alternate sponsor "Flame Guard" protect your home protect your children with special formula Asbestos "Flame Guard!"

"The Uncle Sydney Dancers appeared courtesy of Sydney-co Enterprises Ltd." 

"The Uncle Sydney Negro Puppet theater is a co-production of the Du Mont Television Network, and the Greater Pacific Co-Prosperity Sphere Media Combine."

Outro theme applause bed fades out.

"Please stay tuned to most of these Du Mont stations for "Amos, and Andy 2000". 

Que "A&A" slide...

"Laughs aplenty as Lightning invents a time machine, and the King Fish who thinks it's a toaster accidentally goes to the future." This will be coming up after these brief commercial announcements."

Local Announcer,...booth one,

"You're tuned to WNBT, Channel 6, Edison New Jersey."

"The time is exactly 8:29 pm est."

Tone,

Play local PSA...

Que Ajax, DDT, and Nash Rambler commercials

Que network feed for Amos, and Andy... 


Stay Tuned.

"Less We Forget"

In 1957 while hordes of unthinking American capitalist stooges were wasting their time watching the reactionary antics of the plutocratic puppet Lucy Ricardo.  

That and having backyard cookouts or piling into their Desoto land cruiser station wagons, and driving to Las Vegas, and Disneyland on brand new wide clean safe interstates.  Stopping only to replenish their supplies of Luckies cheeseburgers, and Fresca.

While these "Running Dogs of the Cabal of the Wall Street Atomic Plunderers" were on their one way trip into the dust bin of history. The Heroic Dogs of the "Great Red Banner Motherland" were fearlessly making "The Triumph of Socialist Science, and History an uncontested reality!

The peoples canines dared to challenge the very heavens!

"Laika", (Order of Lenin, Terrier first class), was volunteered to be the first mammal to travel beyond the atmosphere, and gravity of the Earth. 

The Glory did not stop there!

Our beloved Laika was not the last quadruped into space. Shortly after the non-return, and un-survival of the world's first space dog,...the former Laika. Two more Heroic Hounds from the kennels of the Motherland were volunteered. 

"Strelka, and Belka", (heroic likeness at top), were sent by the Central Committee to further explore the cold, and pointless monotony of oblivion.
Unlike their unfortunate predecessor these two furry heroes came back to the warm welcoming arms of the Workers Paradise. 

In gratitude for their valor the "Ministry of Interesting Surprises" had our hero's Strelka, and Belka poisoned dissected poked about then sewn back up, and stuffed.

This so future generations could admire first hand the Peoples K-9 Space Heroes. There was some discussion of bestowing a similar honor on the soon to be chosen Cosmonauts. However this was dropped as it was felt such might have a negative effect on their morale.

Forward Comrades! 


Stay Tuned.