Memes Before There were Memes/Word

What's the word?

Thunderbird.

What's the price? 

.99 twice.

 

They Keep Changing the Lies, Yet We Keep Believing Them

Remember when the plannedemic first started and they rolled out the shots, and everyone from the prez to Fauxci to the CDC (Center for Demonic Control) told us that the shot would PREVENT us from both catching or transmitting the Bug? If not, you can go on YT and see for yourself.

 Well, we now know that was bullshit, but guess what...they just made up more lies, and we still believe them. They had to change their stance on it, because they were busted, so then they changed it to say that the shot still lessened the severity of infection and the chance of hospitalization, but that's bullshit too. 

 Did you know that across the world, over two-thirds of people hospitalized for the Bug were fully hokey-pokeyed and boosted? Don't believe it? Look it up for yourself. The numbers don't lie. While you're at it, look up "immune system fatigue." Our immune systems are being DESTROYED, not just reduced, by the shots. They say doctors are "scrambling" to find out why people's immune systems have all but gone away, but they know why.

 In many parts of the world, including Canada, "unexplained deaths" are now the #1 cause of death. Those deaths aren't "unexplained." It's bullshit. Kids dropping dead from heart attacks and strokes? In what world has that ever happened? Well over 100 soccer players in the prime of health falling out on the field, and many dying on the spot? In what world does that happen? Even doctors who aren't awake to the lies are calling it the "clot shot." Miscarriages are up around 80% among mothers who took the shot before becoming pregnant. It's tragic, and I say it's also demonic. C'mon people...wake up.

 This is not to make people feel bad, since most of us have taken the shots, but it's to try to get people to quit demonizing those who refuse to take them. "My body, my choice?" It's perfectly fine for abrotion, but not for not for those who don't want to take them? What's that about? And the further bullshit where they're trying to tell us that the cause of infection among the vakkzed is people who are unvakkzed? 

 Remember when they were telling us that the Bug was everywhere, on every surface, and could live up to three weeks on some surfaces, but now they're saying that apparently it only exists in unvakkzed people? How soon we forget their first lies, and believe their next ones. People have lost the ability to think for themselves. That's a shame, and incredibly, incredibly dangerous. This is just the tip of the iceberg. They can't keep this information under wraps forever, although you can bet they'll try. It's alllllll about the Benjamins folks, and if you think otherwise, then may God help you. Wake up.
 

Demon Inside #6

In reality this is another sick, evil, nasty old fuck. I say he's also possessed by a demon, and a very powerful one at that. This fuck scared the total shit out of about a thousand people in the chat, when they showed the "catch." Again it was a situation where they posed as kids online, and when this fuck set up a meeting, to do horrible things BTW, they turned up instead.

 It was hard to get stills from the video. For one thing the woman operating the camera was a bit shaken by this creature, and understandably so, but his face was morphing into all these hideous expressions so quickly that it was mostly a blur. He'd make Jim Carey proud. 

 You'd think it might be meds- either he was on them or off them, but he wasn't on any medication, which was verified by police. That's a demon at work. If this doesn't look like a demon, I don't know what does. That's some scary shit.

 As I've said, all Pedos are narcissists. Only someone who possesses zero empathy could ever think of scarring a child for life, for 15 minutes of gratification. Narcissists don't care because they CAN'T care...they aren't wired like most people. And I'm damn sure not defending them. 

Scary. It's hard to call this man human.

This is nightmare stuff. As usual, dozens of people commented on his "dead" eyes, that all these monsters seem to have. Again they said things like "I'm not really 'religious,' but this person has a demon." People can SEE it. 

 

 When you see what these people are really like, it makes you wonder how they've survived all this time. Granted they manage to keep their demons under control as it were, most of the time, and it takes an event that totally catches them by surprise, and takes control out of their hands, for it to manifest, but it does come out at times, and it's a wonder they've survived.

 I believe they've received demonic help all their lives. I also believe that narcissists are Satan's very emissaries on Earth, and the closest thing we can see to an actual demon. 

 This sick fuck didn't give a flying fuck about anyone or anything but himself. He was cursing, yelling, denying, deflectingmaking really weird noises and even growling. Even with three burly men holding him under Citizen's Arrest, the woman was still spooked. It was like he could shed his human skin at any moment, revealing the monster inside, and he might try to eat your face. It was that heavy. 

 

 It's hard to imagine living your entire life being such a monster, but they get off on it. They know right from wrong. They also know that deep inside, they're dead, dark, evil and tortured souls, but they have to completely flip it in their minds, because if they acknowledged it every day they'd go insane in short order, so in their minds they become these godly, superior beings, for whom laws and morals don't apply, and everything is only here for THEIR pleasure. Hurting people makes them feel powerful. How sad and yet Satanic to live a life like that. It's sick, but welcome to narcissism. 

 I'll say again that if you look up the classic symptoms of narcissism, it's EXACTLY the Devil's Standard Operating Procedure. Coincidence? I think not, but that's only my opinion, and I support your right to believe what you wish. I realize most people think demons aren't real, and that he has a chemical-imbalance or he's just an angry old fuck or whatever, but I say he's possessed by evil spirits. One day we'll know what the truth is. Have a nice day, and choose wisely my friend. 

 

The Hawk Feather Incident (rewritten)

I've told this story before but it still trips me out, so I'll tell it again. It took place about ten years ago. The night before I'd watched an interesting doc about a famous B-movie producer who'd recently died, as told by his friend, another movie producer. 

 I can't remember his name but he was and is a legend in the B-movie community, and also respected by "legit" filmmakers. Apparently he was a mega-prankster but a heck of a nice guy, and loved by all. He was also into hawks. 

 It was a well-done doc, and what was interesting was that there were lots of unexplained things that happened during filming, and they managed to work a few things into the film, such as weird video and audio glitches and batteries being dead right out of a fresh pack that was perfectly good a week earlier. I've had that happen before, more than once, and it's a tad unsettling.

 Of course they were speculating on whether or not their dearly-departed buddy could be causing the things to happen. For what it's worth, the guy had said that if he could he'd prank them from the afterlife, sort of like Houdini telling his wife that if he could, he'd contact her from beyond the grave, although she apparently never heard from him. Is it possible that B-movie guy had more success than the great Houdini?

 The craziest thing that happened was when the guy went out of town for a few days. He was obsessive about keeping his office completely locked when he was away, to protect his ideas, artwork, memorabilia and other valuables. He had the only key and he even sealed the vents and doors. When he returned from his trip and went into his office, he found a hawk feather on his desk. 

 Since he's a filmmaker he started filming. He looked a little pale and appeared to be genuinely freaked-out. He showed the feather apparently as he found it. It was parallel to the sides of the desk and appeared to be perfectly placed. I don't think he faked it. For one thing plenty of crazy things had already happened, some caught on film, but mainly it'd make him look stupid, and like he didn't have his security-shit together if a hawk feather could just waft its way into his office. 

 The next morning I woke up thinking about the doc in general, and specifically the hawk feather. I went up to the former Kangaroo Mart to get a coffee, which took maybe ten minutes. Imagine my surprise when I returned home and found a hawk feather on the porch. It stopped me in my tracks.

 It too appeared to be perfectly-placed. The day before I'd gone to the river and found an interesting rock. It looked like a scaled-down monolith, and almost like it was quarried. It had some algae on it so I'd soaked it in bleach and set it on the porch to dry. I naturally placed it in line with the bricks, and the feather was lying parallel to it. You couldn't have placed it any more perfectly. 

 It was Summer, and we were in the middle of one of those periods where it's like the Doldrums for ten days...hot, with almost no breeze. It was a perfect day for a hawk to catch a thermal, and I looked up but there were no hawks circling. For a feather to drift down from the sky and land perfectly two inches from a rock about the same size, the odds must be astronomical. It's possible, but I also considered the possibility, while slim, that someone was pranking me. 

 I also had to consider the fact that I'd just seen a thing where a guy found a perfectly-placed hawk feather on his desk, that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I think that doc was the first time I heard the word "Apport," which describes it perfectly, if only in theory. An Apport is an object that appears and/or disappears from or into thin air, apparently without explanation. 

 I'm not saying that my hawk feather appeared out of nowhere, but if that guy's office was sealed, and he checked and said it was, then in his case it makes as much sense as anything. You know how it goes...sometimes the craziest possible explanation is correct.  

 I decided to leave the feather alone for the time being, and watch to see if anything else happened. I've seen plenty of hawk feathers in the woods, but I leave them alone because they're illegal to possess. I figured I'd eventually take it into the woods out back, but I left it alone for a while. I sat down and played my drums. I could see most of the yard, and I'd see anyone approaching the porch. I had a funny feeling something else might happen.  

 Usually I play drums with my eyes closed but this time I kept them open, and I never left the room. After about 45 minutes I went outside and the feather was gone. There hadn't been a puff of a breeze and I knew it couldn't have blown away, but I looked for it anyway. I got down on my hands and knees and searched the area and then searched it again, but it was gone.

 How could it just disappear? Did the hawk who lost it in the first place swoop down and snag it? Was it a really clever animal playing a trick on me? Maybe it was an Imp, ot the Hawkfeather Fairy or something. I'd have seen anyone over two feet tall approaching the porch, and again there wasn't a breath of wind. 

 As odd as it was that it happened less than twelve hours after I saw a doc about basically the same thing happening, and even if it was just a random feather that fell from a hawk's tail hundreds of feet up in the sky and landed perfectly on the porch by chance, it still defied the odds, and how could it just disappear? That type of thing gets my attention. Was it an Apport? One certainly has to wonder. Cool word anyway.

 

 
 

Retirement

Square Books has been on the corner of the town square in Oxford, Mississippi for decades. Back when I played in the Bud Greene band, Oxford was my favorite town to play in America. 

 Usually we'd play the weekend at a club there, and as hammered as we'd get after the gig Friday night, many was the morning I'd drag myself out of bed early, go to Square Books, grab a coffee and watch the world go by. 

Sometimes Greg would join me but usually I was by myself. I almost always sat in the top front corner. In fact if you look hard enough you might see me sitting up there. Not really...this photo was taken long after we were there. It still looks the same though. 

 I'd sit up there with the largest cup of coffee they had and an ice water, and ponder on things...why did I drink so much only hours earlier but how damn fun it had been, how blessed I was to be able to play music, and make a good living at that, who was going to be at the gig later that night, what was the meaning of life and such. Sometimes I'd think, "I could retire here." 

 It trips me out to think about that, since here I am at official retirement age. It's not like I was eighteen or anything when I was there...I was around thirty...but damn...here I am, over a quarter-century later. In a way it seems like a lifetime ago, but in a way it seems like the blink of an eye. It's freaking me out a little...how time is so subjective and fluid. There I was, in yon corner, thinking about the future me, and here I'm is, thinking back. What a trip.

 I took a few days off and came back to this post, and it's still tripping me out a little...I have butterflies in my stomach for some reason. It's like bookends...one bookend was me back in the day, sitting up on that porch, and the other is me now, looking at this photo and picturing myself sitting up there all those years ago. So much time, and no time at all. Time-travel is real, in our heads anyway. 

 So, will I retire to Oxford, Mississippi and go back to the porch at Square Books? It's doubtful, but never say never. It's still hard to believe how amazing a tiny town in Mississippi could be. My old spot is still there. I could be there in a couple of hours, grab a coffee, go out onto the porch and pick up right where I left off. In any case a part of me will always live there anyway. You can't have as much fun in a place as we had there and not leave part of yourself. I can dig it. Thanks for the memories, Oxford! 

 

Things You Don't See Every Day

A fine sister seemingly excited about a miniature washing machine is something you don't see every day. 
 

Six Asteroids Yesterday

Six asteroids passed by Earth yesterday. I didn't catch any of the LDs on any of them, but if any were going to be a cosmic close shave I'd have heard. It's not the distance this time so much as the numbers. My guys have been saying, and I've been passing it along in this blog, for the better part of a decade, that meteors, asteroids and comets were all going to increase exponentially, and here we are...right on time.

 

 We've entered a denser region of space, and there's just more stuff to rain down on us. A couple of years or so ago we set an historical record for the number of comets visible, with a small telescope, from Earth. It was five or six. That got my attention. 

 One of these asteroids was discovered in 2016, but the rest were discovered this year. The first four numbers of the asteroid's name is the year it was discovered. Many asteroids aren't discovered until they're just a few days away, and a few weren't discovered until after they passed Earth. The reason for this is because they're coming from behind the Sun, and no telescope can see them until they get past it.

 If this trend continues, then we ain't seen nothing yet. It's a simple matter of taking existing data and extrapolating, which is a very accurate way of making predictions. If you plot the number of meteors by year, over the last two decades, you'd see a line that slowly starts to go up but then sharply rises. Again it's exponential. If this peak continues, which it almost certainly will, we're in for a shitshow in the sky. Speaking of meteors, occasionally we have days where there are over 100 fireballs in a day. Two decades ago we might get that many in six months or longer.

 Why do you think that wealthy people are building all of these underground bunkers? The guys who build these things can't keep up with demand, and those things aren't cheap. They start at around $50K for basically a buried boxcar, and go into the millions. Once they go above ten mil or so, you're talking indoor pools, water purification, grow rooms, aquifers and even small nuclear generators. 

 Point is, yet again...they know what's coming, and you should too. Personally I'd rather face the shit above ground, and I'd hate to miss seeing it. If it makes you feel any better...if you should hear about a planet-dusting asteroid headed our way, and you have your choice of where you'll be when it hits- either the impact zone or halfway around the world, pick the impact zone. The last thing you ever see will be spectacular, and you won't linger, like those on the other side of the planet. Heads-up, y'all.  

 

What Narcissists Fear Most

I just watched a video on narcissism by someone who's fairly qualified to speak on the topic. She's a PhD in Psychology, and she's been through a narcissistic relationship, which is really the only way someone can truly understand what's going on. 

 She said something I already know, but it's always good to hear it confirmed by an expert. She says that what they fear most is the truth. Amen. It's easy really...for someone whose very existence is based on lies, what else would they fear? 

 Interestingly, the truth is also what the Devil fears most, if indeed he exists. I say narcissism is straight-up demonic. At the very least, narcissists do things, when others aren't watching that is, that most people would consider to be truly evil, no matter what their beliefs. Anyway the good doctor says that they're terrified of the truth, and its cousin evidence. Speaking of the truth, I'm glad I have it on my side, in the case of my narcissist ex. 

 Just lying itself is very taxing, having to keep up with what lie you told what person, and having to create new lies to cover the first ones, but when you add in the fear of the truth coming to light, narcissists live in constant stress. They launch smear campaigns, both to make you look like the bad guy, and if they think that someone might spill the beans on them, the smear campaign ramps up. It only goes so far though...because of that Bugaboo the truth. Funny how that works.

 I hate giving attention to someone I'd rather forget, especially since it feeds the narcissist's pathological need for any kind of attention, good or bad, but this person is still fucking with me, which ALL narcissists do, so here I am talking about this vile piece of shit. Most of us would shun this kind of attention, but since narcissists have no internal validation, they have to have it from the outside. I can say that the narcissist is a nasty, evil, slutty POS, and in the twisted way their brains are wired, they'll get off on it. 

 You can set your watch by what all narcissists do, so that means that this ex is shaking in her shoes. It's virtually guaranteed that she checks my fb page, my YT channel probably, and likely this blog. If she's been checking my fb page, she knows that I've been talking to a few of her friends, whom she's no doubt heavily bullshitted. So far I haven't stooped to her level, and said a word to any of them, and hopefully I never will, unless something changes, but if they happen to reach out to me...we'll see.

 The beauty of it all is that there's a big, big difference in what she's already said about me, and what I could say about her. What she's said are lies, and what I'd say is the truth, and she knows it. Not only is it the truth, but I can back it up with airtight evidence, which takes both sides of the story out of the equation, and tells THE story. The truth wins every time, at least in the end. The bad guys know this. 

 It's hard to argue with airtight evidence, and I have what's called "damning evidence." I have recordings of some of the hideous fights my ex and I had, which fuel the narcissist's need to feel alive, and let's just say it's easy to tell who the monster is. Neither of us could spin it, lie or make excuses. As I've said, I know for a fact that this person wouldn't want these recordings to go public, because she tried recording one of our fights, but after about a minute of listening to it, she went pale, and couldn't delete it quickly enough.

 It just shows how deep their delusion and lies go. She thought she was going to prove that I was the asshole, the one hurling insults over nothing, the one taking it to a rather disturbing level, but it freaked her out to hear, in her own words, that it was really she who's the monster. She couldn't handle it at all. The truth made her turn a whiter shade of pale.  

 That's the beauty of not making your entire life a giant web of lies...the truth wipes it all away. They can deny the truth until their last breath, but they know deep down they're full of shit. They'll fight to maintain their fragile veil of bullshit, that they're good people, for as long as they can, but they know the truth will come out eventually. 

 I'd rather forget all about this, and her especially, but unfortunately, since all narcissists will continue to stalk their exes, to varying degrees, I can't just ignore it. Ask anyone who's been through it...they'll tell you. They're stalkers, and as we know, all stalkers are creepy, and some can be very dangerous. I hope these recordings will stay private, but I've had my limit. If anything else happens, and I'll know, I'll go public...with the truth. Have a nice day. 

Destiny?

It's funny the things that pop into your head that you thought you'd forgotten. Like most kids of the day, I was in an Air Band. It was probably second grade, give or take. There were three guitar players, and we all played lead. It was me, Denny Ragland and Billy Bolen. I'd open the front door and crank my portable record player as loud as it would go. We'd stand out on the porch and wail. 

 We played along to what I had. It was heavy on the British bands...The Beatles and Herman's Hermits and such, but I was bitten by da Funk Bug at age four, so I had a large collection of "black" music, such as Fifth Dimension and the Motown stuff. I hope I managed to put a bit of the Funk into those two white boys. I think I did. 

 We'd usually get a few of the neighborhood kids dropping by, and sometimes it'd turn into a party, with lemonade and stuff. Like most guys in Air Bands, my biggest fan was my mom. Dad was usually at work, but he caught our shows on the weekends. Mom usually watched from backstage, but sometimes she'd go out and talk to the neighbors. The other moms would come over too, and they were all buddies just like the kids. It was fun. We rocked-out. 

 One day we finished a song, to thunderous applause, and my mom told us that we were really good. Denny got a serious look on his face, and said "Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. We're good, but Kelly...he's got it. He could be in a real band." Were those prophetic words? As it turns out, yes. I knew that I'd love to play in a real band one day, and I had a feeling I might get a chance, but it was still fun to hear. Thanks Denny and Billy...and mom. Y'all rock. 

 
 

The Heebie-Jeebies #1,838: Creeped-Out in Broad Daylight

Yesterday I went for a walk and passed this guy who creeped me the fuck out, in the middle of the day. I saw him coming from a ways off, and he looked like Joe Normal. He was wearing khakis and a blue button-down. He had fairly short hair and a well-trimmed beard. 

 Normally when you pass someone, you exchange nods or hellos, and you usually at least make eye contact. Not so with this guy. I was looking away but as we were about to pass I looked at him and said hello. He didn't return it, or even look at me. 

That's one thing, but the look on his face was maybe one notch above the classic look on Jack Nicholson's face, when he's chilling-out at the end of The Shining. The only difference was that this guy wasn't crosseyed quite as much, but it was actually much more horrifying, because it wasn't a movie. His mouth was open in just the same way, and his scary eyes were narrowed, and fixed on something in the distance...somewhere else altogether maybe. 

 I was hoping and praying, literally, that he had some sort of learning disability or something, that made him look that way, but if not, I was really glad we were going opposite ways. Normally even street people or whatever don't bother me at all, but this guy was different, and I didn't expect that look from someone with his general appearance, but you never know. Speaking of praying, I'd have crossed myself if I were Catholic. 

 When I first saw his face I literally got chills. He looked like he wanted to hurt someone...and possibly eat them too. If he'd had a touch of face paint on and he'd been walking a little slower, he could've gotten a gig immediately, no audition, in any Zombie movie they could think about making. A few seconds after we passed, I turned around to make sure he was still going away, and I never do that. That's how creepy it was...in broad damn daylight. 

 If he has some sort of mental thing, then bless his heart. If not, he's got some issues. I've rarely seen an expression like his. It was the vibe more than the expression, and he gave me the Piss-Shakes. I've seen some scary fuckers in my day, and this guy is possibly the winner. It wasn't a regular anger. It looked demonic.

 If he doesn't have whatever, then he's a scary fuck, and if so it would seem to confirm what my main info guy said would happen, and that I mentioned, that soon we'll be able to tell what people are truly like on the inside, by just looking at the outside. I believe that, whether this guy was an example or not. I know lots of people who work with people with "disabilities," and I've met quite a few of them, including a few very disturbed individuals, and none of them looked like dude, not even close.

 Either way I hope he gets better, and I hope I never pass him again. That was one creepy fuck it was. Stay safe, and have a nice day. 
 

Yet Again More Shots Fired

We just heard gunfire, within two blocks. Ho-hum.
 

Problems with the Big Bang Theory?

Uh-oh...could the Big Bang Theory be full of holes? Looks that way. They say that science (SCIENCE) is in an uproar. Apparently new images from the new James Whatshisface telescope show several inconsistencies in the theory, which has always been just that- a theory.

 We "Truthers" have been saying forever that the Big Bang is bullshit, along with about 75% of everything else we've been told via the "Official Narrative." The universe absolutely could've been created out of nothing...the "Word" as some say, but there have always been inconsistencies with the Big Bang. 

 This is all new, and I haven't looked into it yet, but someone said that it had to do with light refracting in a way that didn't fit the model, and I think they said it also had to do with the size of some objects, or something like that. I'll find out more when it comes out. I love this stuff.

 I'd be surprised that they were releasing information like this, except for the timing. From what I've been learning over the last two decades or so, we're about to see not only a total shitshow in the sky, but also a total paradigm shift, and a total shakeup of our belief systems. It's going to put any Science (SCIENCE) Fiction story to shame. 

 I always tell people that I get that this stuff sounds crazy, but if it were me I'd create a file in my brain called the "I don't believe it for shit" file, and put it away, but not forget it. If unexplainable things should start to happen, at least you'll remember that you heard about it somewhere before, and it won't take you quite as much by surprise. 

 The Good Book says it will happen, and if you want to call it coincidence, along with the laundry list of things it talks about in Revelation- wars and rumors of wars, plagues, earthquakes in diverse places, hearts growing cold, people becoming lovers of self, evil being taken for good and good for evil, signs in the heavens and a handful of other things that haven't happened yet, then go right ahead. 

 Taking "religion" completely out of the picture, what I've learned and observed over the years, tells me exactly the same thing, and that's incredibly interesting. You look at trends, and you can make a pretty good guess where things are going. You just follow (not flatten) the curve. It's not rocket science (SCIENCE). 

 I say buckle-up, and pay close attention to the thing about "signs in the heavens." They're going to keep us distracted with things on the ground for as long as they can, but before too long, we'll ALL be looking up- and I'll stake what reputation I have on it. There's some heavy shit coming in. My advice? Get a little bit of extra food and water, find a neighbor with a gun and a Bible, and get right with God. Big Bang? Big Schmang. Have a nice day. 
 

Reeeeeeeeunion?

Will the Bid Greene band finally reeeeunite? Looks like it might. Last year we began talks, and had everything in place. We even started talking it up on fb. A couple of club owners saw the posts and said they'd book us sight unseen. That's a pretty solid endorsement. We used to pack the clubs in town, so it made sense from an economic standpoint, but I think we were a pretty fun band to go see. That's what we were told anyway. 

 Then the guitar player announced that his neck issues were so bad that he couldn't even lift his ax, much less play a gig, so we called it off. We discussed getting another guitar player, but that didn't get my vote. We already lost one guy, the irreplaceable Matt Kimbrell. So many bands will do reunions, but if they only have one or two of the original guys, it's not really the same band any more.  

 The guitarist and I became really close toward the end of the band, and since he's moved back into town we've gotten closer. I'm honored to know him. I've been following his progress with his neck, and I turned him on to the TENS unit, which he says has really helped. He recently got an electric that isn't a 3/4 scale, but it's a few inches shorter in the neck, so it's lighter than a regular guitbox.

 Looks like we might possibly get the ball rolling again, and a couple of us may get together and hammer out some tunes. If it goes well we'll get everybody else and start working on things. If it doesn't happen though, I know I'll be doing some more playing, even if it's on a limited basis. I'd play in a Monkees tribute band at this point...I don't care. Just give me music. I just heard of a country club band looking for a drummer, but I can't really commit right now, plus it's six nights a week, and that makes it like punching a timeclock- it's just a job. There's a Reggae band looking for a drummer, and that'd be fun. I can fake Reggae pretty well. Gimme a Polka band...it doesn't really matter as long as I'm playing music. 

 Time will tell, but music is on the horizon, and I'm thrilled. As Zappa said, "Music is the best." Amen.

 

Funny Drug Stories #82,622,975,972: Comparing Notes/Magic Wallpaper

It is said that the problem with the world is that one half of the people in it cannot understand the pleasures of the other. I love that quote, but after hearing this story, I might add "One half of the druggies cannot understand the drugs of the other." This story cracked me up, but not punchline-wise. It's deep on so many levels.

 So this guy I know, whom I'll call "Joe," got busted years ago for selling sheets outside of a Dead show, in Colorado I think. They took him to the pokey, and put him in with a guy who'd just been busted for meth. They got to talking, and told each other what substance they'd gotten busted for.

 "Sheets" are sheets of paper, maybe 1' square, and perforated into roughly 1/4" squares that can be torn off. Each square has one dose of acid, whatever that is. Each sheet has at least a couple-hundred squares I think, but I haven't seen one since the Dead were still alive. 

 If you were going to a show in a new town, you'd know you were getting close, because when you got to the last few miles of the main road leading to the venue, people would be on the side of the road, waving colorful handfuls of paper around, yelling "SHEETS!" It was wild. Maybe that's how a few of them got busted. 

 Sheets usually have amazing artwork, as you can see if you Google them. People collect them, and they even make dummy sheets, which contain no product, but look just like the originals, some printed in the same batch, which is interesting. I doubt I'd collect much drug paraphernalia, maybe roach clips, for old times' sake, but I wouldn't mind having a coffee table book with some of the artwork from sheets.

 They'd never tried each other's drug of choice, and were in fact frightened of them. Meth and acid are night and day, except that both can make you hallucinate. Joe probably already knew all he cared to know about meth, but the other guy was curious about acid, and had some questions.

 All he knew was that it made you "see shit," and he wasn't too sure about that, but he wanted to know about effects, duration, cost, etc. Joe told him a little about it, but it was probably like trying to describe Origami to a fish, as someone once said. He said that it wasn't a typical "party drug." The last thing Joe tried to do was sell him on the idea of trying it. Some people are better off not knowing what that deal is. I'm not promoting the use of ANY drugs at ANY time, but if you're afraid to take a psychedelic, then don't. 

 They got to the subject of cravings, addiction, withdrawals and such, and that's where the paths of those two drugs really diverged. Meth guy was starting to jones, and was saying that he wished he could take a few hits, and he assumed that it was the same situation for Joe. "Don't you wish you had a hit of acid right now?" he asked Joe. I'm sure Joe at least grinned, and he said "That's the last thing I'd want right now." 

 The dude was incredulous. The idea of a drug that technically doesn't have any craving, withdrawal or addiction issues, and one that you don't take every day, was completely alien to him. "Really?" he said. "Yep" said Joe. "You mean, if this whole wall right here was covered in hits of acid, you wouldn't take one?" "Nope" said Joe. That cracked me up. I could picture a prison cell, wallpapered with sheets of acid. 

 Oddly enough I'm pretty sure that the charges for acid are much worse than for meth. That's strange, considering the long-term effects of each. Meth, along with coke, heroin, PCP and a few others, is on my list of what I call the "stupid drugs," and probably #1. I have to say here that I completely disagree with the idea they promote in most of the traditional rehab programs, that says basically that a drug is a drug, and no drug is worse than another. 

 That's a joke. Besides the fact that you can't OD on weed, as much as you might like smoking it and hate running out, you're about a trillion times less likely to hold up a 7-11 to get money for a dime bag of weed than any of the others. While I'm ranting away, forget what they say about reefer completely. The true "gateway drug" is ALCOHOL, period. 

 Anyway, meth guy got a little education (Just say No), and that had to be an interesting conversation, all things considered. Joe knew I'd really get off on that story, and I appreciate that. Don't do drugs! 

 

Reply of the Day

"What kind of music does your dad like?" "Whatever sucks."- unknown
 

Well-Timed Poots (rewritten)

Sometimes farts can be inconvenient, such as on a first date or in church or the library, and there's only so many times you can blame it on the dog, but sometimes it's a different story altogether, and memories can be made.

 One day I was in line at the supermarket, in front of two sweet little old ladies. One of them picked up a bottle of Beano from the impulse-buy rack. "I hear this stuff works pretty well" she said. "Have you ever tried it?" "No, I haven't" said her friend. At that very moment I felt a heavy "knock at the door' down below, and I knew I had a huge fart "in the chamber," as my buddy Rusty used to say. 

 I'd planned to release it in the parking lot, but opportunity struck. One of the ladies turned to me and said "Excuse me sonny. Have you ever tried Beano?" "Oh, no ma'am" I said loudly, as the cashier handed me my change. "I'd miss the gas." I let loose a huge fart, and walked out of the store grinning. Everyone around us burst out laughing. You can't buy memories like that. Timing is everything. 
 

More Fear

Bro, why the fuck are you wearing a mask? Seriously, WTF? Do you think your drums are going to make you sick? Maybe you should social-distance from your kit. I get so damn tired of people letting themselves be completely controlled by fear. It's exactly what the Elites want, and they're laughing at us. That's the truth. It's sad. 
 

4X

The other day I heard from a guy whose brother has gotten the "bug" four times since of course being fully Hokey-Pokeyed and boosted, and all he could talk about was getting his next shot. Fuck me. Some people are just never gonna wake up. Sadly it's most of them.
 

YouTube Handle of the Day

I ran across a YT channel called "Thaa the Hunchback Farting Out Methclaws." WTF is a methclaw? Damn. I'm speechless. 
 

Population Control

In the latest example of what our society has become, two brothers got into a shootout, and both ended up dying. Usually I don't pay much attention to shit like this, but it piqued my interest. I was wondering how they both managed to die. Before I read the article, I was thinking that both bros had to be really good shots for that to happen.

 I was picturing them out in the street, facing each other like in the OK Corral or something. For them to both die, they'd basically have to shoot in perfect sync. Usually in a gunfight, only one guy dies. Just ask Marshall Dillon. 

 They weren't on the street though; they were in a car. I guess it's hard to miss when your target is three feet away. Still it seems pretty rare for both of them to bite it, but apparently they both got off enough pops before croaking. They were both idiots, and maybe they shouldn't be spreading genes. God forgive me, but it's actually a bit comical. 

 These days we all suffer from something called "empathy burnout." When this shit comes at us every five minutes, it's hard to have as much feeling for the thousandth incident as it is for the first. Think back to Columbine, and how it shocked the shit out of the whole world. It was almost unprecedented. Everyone was totally in shock, and there was an outpouring of grief. Now we're like "Oh, another one? These assholes. Poor kids. What's for dinner?" It sucks, but that's about how it is. 

 I abhor violence, and I don't want any harm to come to anyone, but if these two bozos were dumb enough to shoot each other in the back seat of a car, we can safely assume they'd done some other really stupid shit, which could've killed them just as dead. At least this was quick. 

 These stupid fuckers that run around doing shit like this, and have no respect for anything on planet Earth...sorry, but I feel no sympathy for them. Their families, yes, but not those fools. I say if they're stupid enough to do that shit in the first place, let 'em have at it. Fuck 'em. Just don't hurt anyone else. That's my kind of population control. Stay safe. 
 

Demon Inside #3

Here's another individual who has a demon inside. This one's easy. As I've said before, I've always heard that the longer someone is possessed by a demon, the more their face takes on the appearance of the demon inhabiting them. I present this nasty creature, and I rest my case.

 People will say that there's no such thing as demons, and that this...whatever you call it, is on drugs, or has a "chemical-imbalance," or is off his meds or just an angry asshole or any number of things...no, he has a demon inside. 

 If you think demons aren't real, that's fine, but I believe that pretty soon, this kind of thing will manifest in front of everyone's eyes, in person, and they won't be able to deny it, no matter what their beliefs.

 My guys say that before too long, we'll be able to tell what a person is truly like on the inside, just by looking at the outside, and I believe that 100%. The eyes really are the windows to the soul, and I see torment in these. This is way beyond anger. 

 Buckle up, get right with God, and have a nice day. 
 

Demon Inside #2

Here's another person who's inhabited by a demon. It's not just my opinion...this evil fuck creeped-out thousands of people online, and there were a couple-hundred comments saying that this man has a demon, mostly from people who said they weren't particularly "religious." You might even be able to feel it through the screen. 
 

Demon Inside #1

Want to see what someone who's possessed by a demon looks like? Here you go. 
 

T-Shirt of the Day

Excellent. I want one.
 

Verse of the Day

"It is better to hear the rebuke of a wise man, than to hear the song of fools." - Ecclesiastes 7:5 (KJV) 
 

Tapping the $1.2Trillion Market

As much as I hate to see the agenda crammed down better than 95% of the population's throats, I have to admit this is pretty darn clever...and funny. It looks like a serious sandwich too, for store-bought. Can binary people buy them too? 
 

Quote of the Day

"You won't get Covid if you have these vaccines." - Joe Biden
 

Quote of the Day

"Get a job? I had a job...in the joint...pressin' them license plates. I was a license-plate-pressin' motherfucker." - Richard Pryor, from a classic skit. 
 

Selfie of the Day

I guess I've seen around a million selfies by now, and this one beats them all by far. I may be prejudiced, since I love turtles, but it's more than that. This photo should win an award. Sister is genuinely happy about it. You can't fake that look.

 She's like "Check this badass turtle who's letting me get all up in his personal space...what an awesome animal!" Turtle's like "Some of us just got it like that. Howdy Pard." 

 It almost looks like he knows he's being photographed, and he's doing an excellent pose. The piece of grass he's chewing on just seals the deal. And I mean, this sister is fine as wine, and probably a fellow turtle aficionado, but I can't quit looking at the turtle.  

 As far as selfies go, you can keep the narcissistic, cliffhanging, money-holding, titty-flashing, funny-face-making, thug-posing, drunk dipshit ones...this is the selfie of the century. I wouldn't mind being friends with both of these beautiful creatures. Maybe I could give them a banana. Say "Cheese!" 
 

Is It Real? (John 14:27)

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
 

Quote of the Day

"For everyone who laughs at what you're saying, there are a hundred more who want to hear it." - Mike, from Around the World
 

Quote of the Day

"You're part of a group that the general public despises. Even the other criminals hate you." - a predator-poacher, to a man caught trying to meet a child
 

Quote of the Day

"One does not desire the stars, but delights in their splendor." - unknown
 

Angry Birds

This is funny. My dog just took me out for a walk, and up in the trees above, a flock of birds was raising hell. They were squawking away in what I recognized as an "alarm" call. It was mostly Jays, but several other species joined in. It was this beautiful, angry-but-melodic cacophony, and I wish I'd recorded it. 

 I knew it wasn't us...we're out there every day, plus I feed the birds out back, and word gets around in the bird community. I was looking around for a gang of feral cats or whatever it was that they were chirping on about, and I looked over and saw an empty plastic bag of rubber snakes, plus a couple that had either slithered out of the bag or were discarded. 

 I have to admit they looked pretty real, sitting on the ground, and apparently the birds thought so too. It gave me a laugh. I have to give it to my dog...he wasn't fooled for a second, and he knows a real snake. For a primitive instant I thought they were real, but he didn't even bother to sniff. Then again, he's a lot smarter than I am. Them snakes was fakes. 

 I picked up the snakes and put them in my pocket. You never know when you might need a couple of rubber snakes, but mainly I didn't want the birds to be upset over fake snakes. The second I pocketed them, the birds got quiet again, except for a chirp or two that I think meant "Thanks." That was cool. Have a nice day.
 

Word of the Day: Swarf

I just learned a badass new word- "Swarf." Swarf is defined as "fine chips or filings of stone, metal or other material, produced by a machining operation." It's pronounced as "wharf" and not "arf," but either way would be funny. It's quite a mouthful, and doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but it's fun to say, and it takes a bit more effort than most words. 

 I learned this wonderful word watching a video where they were cutting a master lacquer of an LP, in this case a 78RPM. It was old equipment but it still worked fine. As the cutting needle etched music into grooves in the disc, it left a long thread of vinyl behind, which the operator carefully brushed away with a special brush. Nowadays they have a vacuum attachment that sucks up the Swarf, perhaps called a SwarfVac. 

 Because of SwarfVacs, I couldn't get a photo of Swarf coming off of a master lacquer, but the best example I can think of is the cymbal-lathing process. If you look carefully at the image above, you can see a trail of Swarf below the lathe. Cymbal Swarf is bronze, and valuable, so it's recycled, as I imagine some other Swarf is. 

 It probably comes from the Olde English word "Geswearf," or "filings," or more likely from the Norse word "Svarf," or "file dust." That's even more of a mouthful to say. Either way it sounds like a word that Dr. Seuss came up with, and it could be a title for a lost book..."The Swarfs, and Other Stories, by Dr. Seuss." Swarf...man, what a word. It might make a good band name or it might not, and oddly it's hard to imagine which it'd be. "Ladies and gentlemen...put your hands together for the SWARFS!"

 I don't know...people might be like, "Huh?" I do however, love band names that you can't fuck with, and nobody but nobody could fuck with a name like the Swarfs. You could play whatever you wanted. I can picture a marquee outside of a bar..."One Night Only...The Swarfs." I'm not sure about that, but it's dorky as fuck, and I have to love it for that. 

 So, what good is a crazy word like Swarf? Maybe not much, but you never know...you might get a gig at a cymbal factory, and maybe there's a gnarly babe working the lathe. You're dying to ask her out, but you suck at hitting on women. Then you remember Swarf. Problem solved. You ask, "Say, did you know that that stuff is called 'Swarf?'" "Swarf? Really? I didn't know that. Ha-ha, what a great word" she'd say. "Totally" you'd reply. 

 Before you know it you're saying the word to each other, giggling and making your mouths move funny. You're both overcome with desire, bypassing the normal grace period, you lock lips and you're doinking on the next break. Hey, you never know. It could happen.

 In any case, in case you've ever wondered if there's a name for all those filings, shavings, bits and bobs that come off of stuff when you scrape it, now you know there is...Swarf. What an ice-breaker. Enjoy.

 

The Numbers Game: Viewer 666

Here's yet another video where I happened to be the 666th viewer. 666 has been popping up a lot lately. It's just a coincidence, right? Bring it. 
 

Quote of the Day

"What for some is a passing breeze, is for others a tornado, which consumes every part of them." - unknown
 

The Pedo Files: Dressing for the Job

 

Ordinarily, seeing a grown man wearing a Cookie Monster T might be amusing, or maybe indicate a learning disability or something, but in this case it's sick and disturbing. This is how many pedophiles dress when they're trying to meet a child. It's of course to make the child more comfortable. These people are way fucked-up. 

 I should've taken screenshots of all the preds I've seen who wear T-shirts with child-related stuff. It's really weird. Why do they even make this stuff in adult sizes anyway? Hmmm... I'll have to admit that it's epic to see a grown man wearing a Rugrats T, pissing himself in the middle of Walmart, but it's damn creepy. 

 If you work in construction, you wear a vest and a hard hat. If you're a cop, you wear a cop uniform. If you're a pedophile, you wear Sesame Street shit. This is 100% Satanic. The Devil can masquerade as an "angel of light," or in this case, Cookie Monster. This is evil. Wake up. Protect your kids. Be safe.

T-Shirt of the Day

Brilliant. This made me lol, but that's because I'm a dork. 
 

Why I Got Headaches After Sex with My Ex

After having sex with an ex, I'd usually get a screaming headache, and I never could figure out why. There was nothing weird, kinky, disrespectful or overly-strenuous going on, and it never happened with anyone else. In fact, sex with anyone else would cure a headache. It wasn't from being hungover or anything like that. There was no apparent reason for it, and it blew my mind, literally. 

 Turns out she was a narcissist, the worst kind, but at the time I didn't know that, or what narcissism was for that matter. She'd try to tell me bullshit like I'd gotten dehydrated, but that was stupid, because hydration is my thing, and she knew that.

 Then she'd try to tell me that it was a blood-pressure deal, but that was stupid too. It just goes to show that most narcissists aren't very bright, but they excel at bullshitting. After I'd ignore what she said, I'd try to figure it out, but I never could. I just knew it wasn't normal. 

 When I learned about narcissism, it dovetailed into my belief that God and the Devil are real. I think narcissists are possessed by demons, some or all of the time. If the Devil is real, then his ways fit the clinical definition of narcissism perfectly. That's interesting. Now I know why I got headaches after sex. I was fucking a demon.
 

Quote (and Reply) of the Day

"Money ain't never made no man happy, no kinda way." - Festus Haggen

"Yeah, but some of 'em never learn that." - Marshall Dillon
 

Quote of the Day

"Killing a human being with an untested treatment...it's unconscionable." - a researcher in the TV series Helix 
 

Humor?

Like most kids of my generation, I grew up on the original Star Trek series, and I was a huge fan of Mr. Spock. Of course I wasn't aware of Leonard Nimoy before the show, but he had an extensive career before Star Trek, which went all the way back to the days of black and white TV. 

 Years after the series ended, on TV anyway, I started seeing him in several old TV shows, including Wagon Train. It was a trip to see him in black and white, and with normal ears. My mom wasn't a big Trekkie, so I was surprised one day when we were watching an episode of Wagon Train that he was in, and she knew who he was. 

 She said "Isn't that Doctor Spock, from Star Trek?" I told her that it was "Mister" instead of "Doctor," but I was duly impressed that she knew him at all. Earlier today we saw him in an episode of WT. He was playing a gunslinger, dressed in black. When he first appeared onscreen, she asked "Is that our buddy Leonard?" "Yeah" I replied. "He was a cowboy before he was a spaceman." Is that even funny? I can't tell any more. 
 

 

Band Stories: "Pennies from Heaven" (rewritten)

This took place when I was playing in my main touring band. Every club and frat house was different, and after we'd played a place a few times, certain things were repeated, and became trademarks for the place. It's stories like this that really make learning music worthwhile, and make me want to finally write that book about our experiences in the Bud Greene band. 

 For bands out travelling the country playing music, one thing that I think is critically overlooked, and extremely ironic, considering the fact that playing music is always regarded as fun, is the inability to have fun, in constructive ways that is. Not all "fun" is the same.

 For a bunch of guys playing music four or five nights a week, travelling thousands of miles in a van and spending hours and hours in motel rooms, being able to entertain yourselves in a reasonably sane and healthy way is paramount. So many bands actually don't know how to do that, and the result can be excess drinkin' and druggin'. Showing up for the gig already wasted, because you got bored, is very counterproductive. Even if just one guy is wasted, it makes the whole band look stupid. It's kid stuff. 

 We called it "HUWS,' or "Hurry-Up-and-Wait Syndrome." Say you're playing out of town. If you're smart, you'll get there early, in case something goes wrong, and most times that means you'll have some time to kill. You've gotten rooms, set up your gear, soundchecked, eaten dinner, smoked a bowl, and now you might have two or three hours to wait before showtime. The problem isn't really the time, it's that fact that you're prematurely jacked-up.

 You know you have a gig coming up, so you get pumped, except that there's still a good way to go before you play. Your body's full of Adrenaline that has nowhere to go, without mitigation. You can get jittery or anxious, when you should be fairly calm. You need to blow-off some steam. What are you going to do...sit around the motel room looking at a bunch of other clowns? Maybe talk about the weather? I've seen far too many bands just hit the bottle in those situations. We felt that doing things like removing the Gideon's Bible from the top dresser drawer, tossing bottle rockets in and closing the drawer was way more fun, and smarter, than drinking, so we usually at least started the gig sober. 

 Since I never touched a drop of alcohol either before or during a gig, I had to work overtime coming up with fun shit to do. For most of the time of the band, I carried around an "anti-boredom" kit. It was a backpack or suitcase filled with things like magazines, cards, games, toys, glow-in-the-dark stuff, electronic toys and doodads, and fireworks...lots of fireworks. Fireworks were our #1 remedy for boredom, and we shot them everywhere we possibly could, including some places where you shouldn't shoot fireworks, like onstage, in motel rooms and wherever else that wasn't always appropriate.

 During gigs, my buddy and keyboardist O' could drink epic amounts of alcohol and still function, but I stuck with spring water. A little reefer was okay though, and on any given break, taking a puffy-puff or two was a great way to have a bit of fun without drinking, but I always wanted to up the game, so I tried to find fun things to do, in 15 minutes or so, after I'd had a puffy-puff. Although we came up with stuff that we repeated at clubs and parties all over the country, this activity was limited to a single bar. We came up with a little game we called "Pennies from Heaven."

 I can't recall the name of the place, even though we played there a million times, but it had been a movie theater. The bar was in front, in the former lobby, and the band played in back in the former theater. It had a high ceiling, maybe 20', with massive curtains on the wall, which made for some good acoustics. They'd removed the seats and put in a stage, I think maybe a dancefloor, and added some tables. A catwalk circled the room, about 5' below the ceiling. It was pretty dark, especially above the stage. Some of the stage lights were hung from below it, and if you looked up, you couldn't really see beyond the lights. It was perfect. 

 The crowd would migrate between the theater when we were playing, to the bar section when we took a break. They played really loud music in the bar area, but with all the curtains, the theater area was quiet, so anyone who wanted to have a nice, quiet conversation would grab a table in the theater. There were always a few couples, sharing their thoughts over a beverage. Poor things.

 O' and I would carefully walk out onto the catwalk, position ourselves over the drum kit, try to stifle laughter, and get comfortable. Oh, and we'd have a pocketful of pennies. We'd take turns dropping pennies onto the drums. The sound of pennies hitting drums and cymbals from about 15' was surprisingly loud, clear and quite startling. It made an "almighty clatter," as Bill Bruford would say. The first hit was always the killer, since nobody was ready for it and it scared the shit out of all the loving couples, but of course we didn't stop at one. We'd wait a minute or two, and then drop another one. 

 The patrons' reactions were priceless, and honestly, I hope they all left with dry underwear, because to hear a loud drum hit or cymbal crash without warning is pretty harsh, not to mention looking up at the stage, expecting to see the drummer but there's nobody behind the kit. That had to be crazy for those people, bless their hearts.At the first hit, they'd snap their heads around and stare in confusion at an unoccupied drum kit. 

 It was more than just a couple of assholes making loud noises and scaring the shit out of people who'd done nothing to us, and in fact had paid good money to come see us...we made it into a game of skill. With the various angles of the drums and cymbals, and the downward slope going around the toms, down to the floor tom and finally the bass drum, it was possible to hit more than one drum with a single penny. 

 For instance, I remember that if you dropped a penny in just the right spot on the Ride cymbal, it would bounce from there to the first tom, and sometimes on to the snare or the other toms. I'm pretty sure the most hits from one penny that we ever got was five, and that was rare. Since the head of the bass drum was parallel to the line of flight of the penny and hard to hit, we'd get bonus points for nailing it. Sometimes we'd spin the pennies, and a couple of times they'd land on the snare drum, still spinning, and emulate a perfect buzz-roll. It was beautiful, and we'd usually give ourselves away by laughing when it happened. 

 After the loving couples got over the initial shock of the hit, and did an underwear check, they'd try to figure out what was going on. They'd looooook at the drums, and they'd looooooook around the stage and around the room, and finally they'd loooooook toward the ceiling, but with the lights shining down, all they saw was darkness. We could see them, but they couldn't see us. It was like being on the fun side of a two-way mirror. How could we possibly resist such an opportunity? 

 Yes, we were juvenile assholes, but for us it was much better than hitting the stage wasted, for lack of anything fun to do besides drinking. Obviously most people figured out what was going on, even though they never saw us, but from the looks on a few people's faces, and an overheard conversation or two, not everyone did. Once we heard one girl say to her date, "Umm...is this place supposed to be haunted?"

 We had to put our hands over our mouths to keep from losing it laughing. I almost let out a big "BWOOOOHAAAHAA" but I didn't want to scare her off for good, because she was fine. Maybe we started a legend there..."I think that place is haunted, and the ghost plays drums." Several of our antics in that band became legend, and one such incident, the "gas-main affair," was even featured in a bestseller called "On Fire," by author Larry Brown, a former firefighter in Oxford, Mississippi, where the incident took place. Maybe the "drumming ghost" became another legend. I hope so. 

 Music is sacred, and I've been incredibly blessed to be able to not only play music all over the place, but to make a very good living at times. I always say that I'd do it all over again just for the women, and also for the little peripherals like this...the adventures. I couldn't have dreamed of a better time than playing music. "Pennies from Heaven" was a hell of a lot of fun, and it never got old. Good times.