Review of the Day (5 Stars)

"This thing works great! I shocked my brother as soon as I opened it up and he didn't move for 20 minutes." - TBJ, reviewing the Patriot "Execution Flashlight," a flashlight/stun gun combo
 

The Daily Bullshit: The "Nocebo Effect" WARNING: Extreme Bullshit)

I've been doing the "Daily Bullshit" series for over a decade, and there's some good ones, but I think this takes the cake. The latest batch of bullshit from the top is that all of the hundreds of thousands of people reporting negative reactions after doing the Hokey-Pokey, are just imagining things...it's all in their heads.

 They've dubbed it the "Nocebo Effect." They came up with a cute name that everyone can remember, and I'm sure they're tickled to death with themselves for coming up with it. This makes my blood boil, and it's already pissed a lot of people off, especially the ones who can see through the LIES, not to mention the ones who had the bad experiences. What pisses me off the most isn't the lie, but the fact that most people will believe it. It's not only a lie, but IT'S HARMING PEOPLE.

 So why haven't people heard about all these negative reports? It's called "censorship." Did you know that so far, around 250,000 Facebook accounts have been deleted, for reporting negative effects of the secret sauce? That's right. The posts weren't deleted, the entire accounts were. They tried to call it "medical misinformation," but it's precisely the opposite. It's medical INFORMATION, pure and simple, and anyone who thinks otherwise simply isn't thinking.

 They shut down those accounts forever. so people couldn't simply report their experiences again. Were they all lying? They took it willingly, and were expecting positive results. You can't sue any of the companies who make the Sauce...they enacted that into law, SIX MONTHS before the first dose rolled-out. With normal meds, we have 1-800-BAD-DRUG, where you can sue if a medicine harms you, even way down the road, but with the Sauce, that's off the table. Does that not send a message? All that money...and not a PENNY will ever go to anyone who may be harmed from the Sauce...now and forevermore. It should straight-up be illegal. They KNEW ahead of time there'd be major issues. They KNEW.

 Did you know that so far, over 80,000 women have reported having menstrual-cycle issues- changes in their cycles and excess bleeding? It's true. Look it up. I'll stop here and say that I'm not trying to freak people out, most of whom have already taken it...I'm trying to hip people to the fact that people who don't want to put an UNTESTED SUBSTANCE into their bodies aren't crazy, hateful, harmful, politically-motivated, or any of the other bullshit they try to tell us. With most people the decision is MEDICALLY-MOTIVATED, period. 

 Speaking of censorship, people who were reporting these very same issues a year ago were BANNED. They tried to simply suppress it, but when the numbers get that high, they have no choice but to address it, and that's where the bullshit comes in. It's "Damage Control for Dummies," only in this case, we're the dummies. It should totally wake people up just knowing what they try to suppress, but sadly it doesn't. 

 So they SAY that these issues are only "temporary," and pose "no threat to reproduction." How the FUCK do they know, when they don't even know WHY it's causing these problems? They're ACKNOWLEDGING it, so how the hell can they call it a Placebo Effect? Oops...I mean "Nocebo Effect." Tell that to the 80,000 women who're freaking out right now...some of whom are very worried about how it might affect fertility. Excess bleeding is just all in their heads?  It's bullshit. Come on. Wake up.

 To date over 100 athletes, many soccer players, in the prime of life and in the peak of health, have collapsed on the field from heart attacks, and quite a few have died. Reckon that's just "all in their heads?" I doubt it. If we were used to over 100 athletes collapsing from heart attacks every year, it wouldn't be any big deal, but we're NOT, because IT'S NOT NORMAL. The ONLY difference in the past year, and ALL other years in history, where maybe ONE guy might collapse from a heart attack in a given year, is, you guessed it...the Hokey Pokey. They all ordered the Secret Sauce. Do you think it's a coincidence? 

 They've also acknowledged blood-clotting issues from the Sauce, again, only because enough people were talking about it that they HAD to address it, and try to do damage-control. Of course they say the risk is "minor," and "worth the risk." Incredible. Oh, but they also say that it's all in their heads. Which is it? Tell the 12-yo boy who had a stroke (yeah, that's normal too), and had to have blood clots removed from his brain, that it was "all in his head." Well, actually it really was in his head, but you get it. 

 When it's all said and done...IF it's ever all said and done, TRILLIONS of dollars will be made from sales of the Secret Sauce. They say it's "free" too. Ain't no free. Trillions will be made. What do you THINK they're going to say..."Hmm, y'all, there are risks here," or "Of COURSE it's safe!" Yep, right. "Of COURSE it's safe." 

 There's tons of negative reports about the Sauce, and no matter how they try to suppress it, they can't hide it forever. People are waking up to this bullshit. Think back to when the Secret Sauce first came onto the scene. They said that taking it would keep you from catching it, and from spreading it, 100%. Remember? Now we know that wasn't true, but most people don't consider that, and wait to gobble up the next round of bullshit. 

 Now, all they can say is basically that it "lessens severity, and the chance of a hospital stay." Okay, it's not what they promised us at first, and it's not a bad thing, but is it worth the risk of taking an EXPERIMENTAL SUBSTANCE, just for those benefits, and for something with about a 99.9% recovery rate for most healthy people? Is it? It's your choice...please let it be ours. 

 Many people know that MILLIONS of people who danced the Hokey-Pokey did NOT do so willingly...they were threatened with job-loss, being barred from public places, and now even supermarkets and ATMs, for the love of God, and other things, and I totally understand. In fact I understand people wanting the Sauce for ANY reason. I get it. Fear is a very powerful tool, and sadly people really do believe every single thing they're told, as long as it's the "Official Explanation." If people want to trust their bodies to people who are KNOWN liars, it's their business. For people who don't, back-off. 

 Oh, and here's some numbers...a recent study in New South Wales showed that of patients in hospitals for the Bug, 68% were fully-sauced, while 28% hadn't had it. How 'bout them numbers? They immediately tried to debunk it, but they couldn't this time. They tried to say that the study didn't indicate whether or not they'd been boostered, and some nonsense about "New South Wales vs. the rest of the country," or some shit like that, but they couldn't "fact-check" it, because numbers don't lie. If you don't believe it, look it up. I wish you would. 

 Did you hear about the Mink trials? Minks have an immune system very similar to ours. They injected them with the RNA-altering, spike-protein-producing Sauce. At first the results looked promising...they were resistant to "bugs" at first, but soon after, their immune systems begin attacking themselves (Autoimmune Disease), and trials were halted. And yet it was PERFECTLY OKAY to EXPERIMENT on humans! If you don't believe this, look itTF up. If you're going to call people "stupid" or whatever, for not wanting an EXPERIMENTAL SUBSTANCE in their bodies, please look this stuff the fuck up. Do it. 

 And the BRIBES...when have people ever been BRIBED to make a medical choice? It's "for our safety?" Bullshit. They're bribing people to order the Sauce, with everything from free burgers and fries to free weed to free sky-miles to shopping sprees to gift cards to cruises to Super Bowl tickets to free cable to cash lotteries worth up to a million to cars to reduced prison sentences (no shit) to you-name-it. So far the most extreme bribe comes from I believe Austria, where children AS YOUNG AS 14, with "parental consent" of course, can get a free romp with a HOOKER. It's true. If you ask me, it's unimaginable, it's pedophilic and utterly Satanic, but sadly, very sadly, not surprising. Yet again, y'all, WELCOME TO THE BEAST SYSTEM. 

 The efficiency of the Sauce goes down to around 15% after only a few months, hence the "boosts." My sis came over about a month ago, practically bragging about just having gotten boosted. I'm surprised they didn't give her a sticker and a lollipop. Heck, if it were me, and I'd decided to take the juice, I'd wait and at least take advantage of some of the bribes. Maybe I'd go to Austria and order the Sauce, and fuck a hooker for free. That's just as crazy as them trying to tell us it's "all in our heads." Wake up.

 

"Blickum Brought Me Here"

I just told the story about a crazy thing that happened during a livestream from Lone Eagle on YouTube (see: Crazy). The whole thing seemed a bit strange, and although he was okay, he left people hanging, as to how he was doing and what happened. He finally went live today, but unfortunately I missed it. 

 I replayed the stream, but the chat wasn't showing. Hopefully it just hadn't processed yet, and is up by now. Lone was on his way to the gym, and filming the sights as he went. He was sober, sounded great and apparently smoothed things over with his lady. Nice.

 For the first ten minutes or so he told what happened, and thanked people for saying they were glad he was okay. I was hoping he'd give me a shoutout, since I'd gone live on his behalf, and out of love and concern, but at first he didn't mention it. As more people came into the chat, he was addressing the comments. He started saying "Blickum brought me here." He said it several times, and it was pretty cool.

 It was my peeps. They'd seen the notification when I went live the other night, and had clicked-on to see what was up. After learning the story, and seeing all the love and concern for Lone, they'd subbed to his channel, and had joined the chat. I was thrilled to know they'd subbed him and were chatting. He gave me a shoutout and thanked me several times. He told the story of how I'd gone live, to give his people a place to keep in touch if his stream cut out, which it did. 

 As I said in the other post, it turned out to be an amazing livestream, and several people think it was meant to be. Five of my very best gals on the 'Tube came in...Kayle, Cherrie, Darlene, Paris and Marci T, and I know for a fact that if we were living in the same town, I'd be giving one or two of them a holler, heck yeah. There was pure love in my chat, and I couldn't ask for more. 

 It was surreal...seeing a guy saying he was the Devil,  and attacking our boy, live on YouTube, and not knowing for well-over half an hour what had happened to him. We were going back and forth between my chat and Lone's, which was broadcasting dead-air live. A few things didn't add-up, but when Lone went on today to tell the story, it sounded completely legit, and I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

 I had to consider all angles, and if by chance he was pulling a "Jussue," and it was a hoax, then me going live might've thrown a wrench into the plan, and he could've been mad at me, but that's the absolute worst-case scenario. He knew it was out of love and concern, and more for the peace-of-mind of his girlfriend than anything. Until some of my guys came in, I was doing a livestream for mostly people I didn't know very well, yet, and I'd never have done that for any other reason but Lone.

 Having said that, and as I said before, it made me look like a great guy, whether or not I'm really an asshole in real-life. I got some great publicity, although it wasn't my intention. I've been a guest on several other YouTuber's streams, but I hadn't gone live in about 18 months, so it's not like I'm looking for attention on YouTube. It ended up turning into a really nice hang. 

 We got word about half an hour after I went live, that Lone had returned and he was okay. I was going to thank everybody for coming in and shut it down, but people were having such a good time chatting and getting to know each other that I let it roll for another two hours. It was good fellowship (Oh, NO...is that sexist?), if only digital, as it were.

 Lone's people are good people, as are mine. They're kind, intelligent and passionate about things, and they gotta lotta love in their hearts. Plus they're curious and thirsty for knowledge and the truth, and they think outside the box, and guess what...if nobody ever thought outside the box, we'd never have "new and improved." We'd never grow an inch. These days they're mocked, but without them, society would stand still. 

 Overall I'd say it's all good, and I came out smelling like a rose. Lone and I exchanged people, and I picked up a dozen or so new subs. I've known that most of his people are cool, and I know he'll enjoy having my people on his channel. It was nice getting a shoutout. "Blickum brought me here." I love it.

 

My Job in Heaven

If there's an afterlife, and I make it to the good place, besides playing music and gardening, my job will be to take care of all the animals who were neglected and abused. It's hard to write about this. It rips my heart out of my chest to know it goes on, and that's the only thing that'll put it back.

 I can't talk about this without mentioning that EVIL, Satanic sicko, Dr. Fauxci, who enjoys torturing Beagle puppies. Letting them be chewed to death by sand fleas? Research? RESEARCH??? That piece-of-shit fuck. If there's a Judgement Day, there's a lot of people whose shoes I wouldn't want to be in, but Fauxci's are the biggest. What's truly fucked-up is that most people trust him to tell them what to do with their bodies. He's the worst of the worst. You'll see. 

 Actually, in Heaven, the animals wouldn't really need that much taking care of...it'd be more like playtime. I'd have Mr. B by my side, and all the other animals I've ever known or had as pets. Speaking of pets, I know a few pet-owners that likely won't make it Up Yonder, but their animals will. Supposedly in Heaven, all our wishes will be granted. I don't know about that...I've been known to enjoy a hooter and a nice BJ from time to time, back in the good ol' days that is, but we'll have to see. I guess those carnal desires will be gone, which is probably for the best. 

 My wish would be to hang with all my dearly-departed friends and family, and the animals. I don't care about streets of gold or any of that. Wealth has never been my goal. I wouldn't mind having a  nice crib though. The Good Book says that "In My house are many mansions," and I'm okay with that. It'd be fun to have some sort of vehicle, maybe a hotrod rice-burner or something, that goes a million miles per hour, so I can cruise the rings of Saturn and stuff, but I'd be cool with a little garden, a hut, a bicycle, a juicer, a drum kit, and my animals. That'd be Heaven to me, and I'll apply for that position. Maybe Jesus will hire me. 

"For as you do unto the smallest of these, so you do also unto Me." - God

 

Separated at Birth?

Yes drummer Alan White...

...and Wavy Gravy?

 

Quote of the Day

"The fool doth think himself a wiseman, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool." - Willian Shakespeare
 

50-50

I recently talked about something that's heavier than most people realize. Most people these days don't believe God is real, and even less believe Satan is real. First off, if God is real that is, you can't have God and not have Satan. God created Satan...aka Lucifer. We don't get to pick and choose, based on what we believe.

 The crux of the biscuit regarding whether or not God and the Devil exist comes down to only two possibilities- either they exist or they don't. The odds be fifty-fifty. Forgive me for quoting Zappa here...I can't help it. Either God and the Devil are real, or they aren't real. It's literally a flip of a coin. Dig that for a minute. 

 The thing is, if they're real, then the whole scenario is too, and there's a Heaven and a Hell, and we go to one or the other place when we die. The other possibility is that when we die, that's it...no afterlife, no nothing. That means we never had a "soul" to begin with. I could be wrong, but I think more people believe that we have some sort of soul or spirit or life-force or whatever you want to call it, which carries on beyond death, than believe in the existence of God and Satan. There's really only one way to find out, and we all will one day. 

 What's interesting about the so-called near-death experience is that, while the experience can vary wildly, many people say that as soon as they shed this mortal coil, they realize that their earthly life didn't matter really, and it's the "spirit realm" that's the deal. In a way that's a sad thought, but it makes perfect sense in relation to a "Heaven," where there's no hate, anger or jealousy...it would have to be that way.

 People would have to be equal in Heaven for that to work, so earthly accomplishments, or lack thereof, wouldn't matter. It'd truly be a world where all people are equal, and truly live in harmony, not like the New-Age, "We-are-the-world" false, bullshit rhetoric that the Satanic Elites spout. I suppose it's obvious what I believe, and it's just my opinion. I could be wrong...there's a 50-50 chance. What's crazy is, I hope I'm wrong. I don't like to think about people taking the down-elevator when they die (Oh, no...let's go). 

 Forget the Bible...forget the Book of the Dead...forget what anyone thinks or says...maybe it's like my friend Champ once said- it's like being in a room, and the lights go out. The very last thought you have is: "Hey, who turned out the ligh..." and that's it. You're gone, end of story, no Heaven or Hell. Or you do go to Heaven or Hell....not Purgatory, not the Seven Circles of Whatsis or wherever else, but literally up or down. They say Heaven is...well, in the heavens, and Hell is somewhere inside Earth. We do know that it's hot as fuck near the center of the Earth. 

 Most people have a hard time conceiving eternity. Try comparing a century to 100-billion years...it can't be done, and eternity is even longer than that. Come to think of it...some might say that there's a third possibility- reincarnation, and instead of going to a Heaven or a Hell, we go to some sort of clearing-house...maybe like a waiting room, where you take a number, have a seat and wait to become a newborn baby again, or maybe a toad or a cow or something. Since the Bible says that "we're appointed to die but once," and either the Bible is real or it isn't, I'm going to toss that out. 

 In his amazing autobiography, the late, great Keith Emerson quoted the philosopher Gurdjieff as saying that basically we "die as houseplants." That could very well be true, and sometimes I hope it is. If God is real, that means that there will also be a Judgement Day, and I'll have to answer for the bad shit I've done, just like everybody else. Some folks are going to have some serious 'splaining to do. I've sinned like there's no tomorrow, as it were, but I'd hate to have to answer for some of the things these sick fucks have done, and again I mean the Satanic Elites. If there's an afterlife, they're fucked. For eternity.

 Like I said, I usually don't fuck with 50-50 odds, especially when it comes to eternity. It doesn't matter if someone thinks the probability of God and Satan existing is exactly zero, or 100%...the odds are 50-50, all day long. It's a flip of the coin. Do you trust your soul to a flip of a coin? You have to choose. Choose wisely, my friend. 

 
 

Crazy

Yeaterday morning around 1:30 I went live on my YouTube channel. I haven't gone live in over a year, and didn't plan to, especially at that hour, and I'd never have guessed the reason in a million years. 

 Around midnight here, ten his time, a guy who goes by Lone Eagle went live on YouTube. I've been on his channel 4 or 5 years. He's an interesting cat...smart, funny, talented, friendly and all. Back when I first subbed him he was into things like earth-changes, poking around on Google Earth, the so-called "Mandella Effect," plus many other topics. 

 He became a "Christain" two years or so ago, and when he started talking about Jesus, he lost a lot of subscribers. He used to get over 100 people in his live streams, but now he rarely gets a third that many. I stayed with him because I was thrilled with his decision. When I saw he was live I popped on. 

 Lone's been going through some shit. He's Native, although I forget which tribe, and he's from Canada. A couple years back he met a woman on his channel, and they fell in love. About a year ago he pulled up roots and moved to LA (of all Godforsaken places he could've moved) to be with her. It's been rough on him, and an old drinking problem resurfaced. Around New Year's he went live, and I realized he was wasted. I was shocked.

 It's causing problems with his woman, and she wanted him to move out until he can get a handle on his drinking. He did a couple of streams and he was sober, but when he came on yesterday evening it was apparent he'd had a couple. He was seeking solace in his YouTube friends, and he was being honest about what's going on, and big props for that. My plan was to watch the stream but not comment unless I saw one of my friends in the chat. 

 He's been going live from a park near where he and his girlfriend live. There's people around in the daytime but it's deserted at night. He was sitting on some bleachers in a pavillion-type structure that appeared to be enclosed by glass and fences on three sides. As we watched, a homeless guy walked up and started talking to him. Everybody in the chat got nervous, because of his body-language and his general vibe.

 It was friendly at first, but people in the chat were trying to tell Lone to split, but he wasn't reading it. He had a little buzz going, and didn't seemed to feel threatened. They talked for a bit and the guy was cool until Lone mentioned Jesus. We couldn't hear everything he was saying because he was mumbling a bit, but he wasn't into hearing about Jesus. Lone said he was live, and told him he was Lone Eagle. The guy said "I'm Lone Wolf." That was weird. 

 Then he said "I am the Devil." At that point I think I might have been thinking about getting the fuck out of Dodge, but Lone kept talking to him. Sure enough a scuffle ensued. You could hear yelling and cursing, and the scenery was tumbling around. Apparently he grabbed Lone's phone, and Lone started to run away. What was really, really weird is that the guy was filming Lone as he backed away from him. Then he tossed the phone along a road or sidewalk. The lights spun wildly and the phone came to a stop. We heard more loud voices and the guy laughing, and Lone yelling for help a few times, but apparently there was no one around to hear. Then it got quiet. Crazy.

 Amazingly the phone was still working and broadcasting live, although the screen was almost dark, and we couldn't see anything. You'd hear a car go by and an occasional distant voice, but nothing else, and it went on for a long time. We were all sitting there with our jaws hanging open and our stomachs in knots. Thankfully his girlfriend was in the chat, and she called the cops. We didn't hear anything else for almost half an hour. 

 I don't know Lone very well; he's addressed some of my comments, but the only way he knows me is because he likes my channel name, and when he sees me in the chat, he'll say it over and over in rhythm, which is exactly the point. About two years ago I said something that cracked him up, and he remembers me for that. I know his girlfriend even less, but I asked her if she could go live on her channel, so we'd have somewhere to stay in contact, in case Lone's phone died or the stream ended.

 She doesn't have a laptop, and she doesn't have enough subs to go live on her phone, so she asked if anyone would go live, and I volunteered. I was thinking about doing it anyway. I set up a stream and put the link in the chat. His girlfriend came in, and everybody else soon followed. Within about two minutes over 30 people had come in, and the chat was flying by, which was a new experience for me.

 There were several people I'd met on Lone's channel way back, and who'd stayed with him through the changes. I tried to keep up with the chat but I only caught about half the comments. Everybody was quite concerned, but trying to stay calm. There was a lot of prayer. It was funny because I forgot that it was me doing the live stream. I almost felt like it was still Lone's stream, since it was his peeps in the chat. So I was surprised to see some of my YT friends pop in. Most of them didn't know about Lone, and I was thinking "Where did they come from?" 

 I'd forgotten that it was my stream. My friends saw the notification bell light-up, and came on so see what was going on. I've known these people for several years, and they're very special to me, and just how special few people could know. Besides concern and anxiety, the vibe in the chat was pure love. These people truly are something special. I was thrilled to see people I knew coming into the chat, and I introduced them to Lone's friends as best I could. 

 The whole thing was so weird...she'd call his phone, which was still broadcasting live on YouTube, and we could hear it ringing, but no answer. Finally we heard footsteps approaching. Someone commented that it sounded like "cop shoes," which it did. The phone was picked up and turned off, but still no word from Lone. It definitely wasn't he who picked up his phone. 

 We were still monitoring his stream, and when it went out, it was a good thing I went live, since we hadn't heard a word from Lone. Anyone could've done it, but I was glad his girlfriend trusted me enough to do it in the first place, and it turned out to be a pretty special thing. Finally, after about half an hour, Lone's gf came on and said that he was fine, and on his way home...no explanation, except that he'd been hit in the face a few times. Maybe they were both in shock, and we were just glad he was okay. She said goodnight and signed-off. I know that as bad as we were all feeling, she must've been losing her mind.

 Everybody was whooping it up (digitally) in the chat, and thankful he was okay. I talked to everybody for a bit and I was going to sign-off, but so many people were still chatting I decided to let it roll. My dog had to take me out, and I just left dead-air on a livestream, usually a no-no, but nobody cared. I was gone about ten minutes, and when I got back only a few people had left, and everyone else was still chatting away.

 Everyone had put very nice comments in the chat, thanking me for doing the stream, but again I'm glad his gf was cool with me doing it, and anyone could've done it. Having said that, although I'd been wondering if I'd ever go live on YT again, there I was. I got back into the chat, and the only reason I was really aware that it was my livestream was the fact that I could see my goofy face on the screen.

 People were getting to know each other, and saying that I should go live more often, just so we could hang, and I guess I'm cool with that. I'll have to learn Streamyard or something, but if I can do livestreams and get that kind of vibe, I'm in. Most of the people, Lone's and mine, were pretty much on the same page as far as general beliefs go, which made things easier, but still I was amazed at how people were talking like old friends. Again, these folks are something special.

 45 minutes after Lone returned people were still talking, so I stayed on for another hour, until the adrenaline wore off, which it did for everyone else too, and I reluctantly signed-off, promising to stay in touch with the new people I'd gotten to know better, and they me. There were three gals I've known since way back in the meteor-page days, about six years. I had a really nice time with everybody, and we all pretty much agreed that it didn't happen by chance. 

 I was going to delete the livestream, but the narcissist in me didn't want to. The comments in the chat made me look like a great guy, although again it wasn't anything special. I did try to be a good spur-of-the-moment host, for people I didn't really know, but it was no biggie. By the time it processed, and showed up on my channel, just a couple of minutes, it already had more views than all but one or two of my vids. It's over triple the number of views my vids usually get, although I'm guessing most of them are Lone's people. I've managed to fool a lot of people on YT into thinking I'm a good guy, and I may leave it up, to reinforce the myth. It makes me look like a kind, caring individual, ha-ha.

To be fair, I have to look at all of the possibilities, and a few things don't add-up. Here's the perp BTW. He knew he was live on YouTube, but he made no attempt to hide his face. He was a scary-looking motherfucker, that's for sure. Something told me to get a screenshot of him, before he started the fight, and several people went back and grabbed screenshots.

 Two people recorded his livestream, and have listened back to it. They left comments mentioning strange things like random voices, which I'd like to hear. Oddly, Lone took the video down. He left the last two streams up, where he was obviously drunk and occasionally rambling, but he took down that video. 

 Unless something happened that we're not privy to, you'd think that since he was speaking up for God, against a guy saying that he was the Devil, getting into a brawl and coming out okay, and with a story to tell, it'd be good publicity for him. I have to say it was for me, although I wasn't looking for it. Again, I know they were both in shock, but I think if it were me, and I knew someone had set-up a "flagpole" where people could meet to keep up with the situation, I'd at least get my gf to pop into the chat to say thanks, but I can't pretend to think for anyone else...it's just strange. 

 I'm sure he's heard by now that I set up a stream. I know he gets tons of emails and comments, and can't possibly reply to all of them, but he hasn't gone on with a video yet to let people know what happened. His gf certainly seemed to be glad that I went live, and I know everyone else was. I got to know some really cool people a little better, and I got at least half a dozen new subs. The last thing I want is a big channel, where I have to spend hours a day on it and not make a penny, but I welcome people like them any day. They're my kind of people, and if they're like the friends I met on YT years ago, some of them will be my friends from here on out. 

 

 I met other people who care about other people, and by far that's the most important thing to me...well, of course that Lone was okay, which goes without saying, but the whole night was weird, on so many levels. I know he's got some shit to sort out, and I hope and pray he does, and finds a way to quit drinking, and saves his relationship. I don't know her but she seems like a really good person, and I know Lone is. I hope they work it out. I also hope he lets us know wtf happened. There's a lot of people who're waiting to find out. Ha-ha, and they were all on my channel last night. That's crazy. Peace.

One Fellow Who Doesn't Care if I'm "Not a Doctor"

Certain members of my family are fond of saying "You're not a doctor," if I say something about health-related topics, especially their precious pharmaceutical industry. Good GOD, how can someone trust their health to CHEMICALS, and chemicals alone. It's beyond me. Fuck exercise and not eating cheeseburgers from the drive-thru, if meds won't fix it, then nothing can. It's sad. 

 I'm not sure if they think I'm so out-of-it that I think I'm a doctor, or maybe I forgot that I'm not a doctor. It's a deflection and a cheap-shot. You'd think that people who fancy themselves to be hyper-intelligent wouldn't have to stoop to such childlike moves. How does not being a doctor impede my being able to learn about health-related topics? Is it magic? I think so.

 It's like saying that a doctor decided one day to take up drumming, but because he wasn't yet a drummer, he couldn't learn about drumming. He'd start studying rudiments and he'd learn a Paradiddle, but if he played it for them, they'd say it was wrong, because he's "not a drummer." It's absurd, but in their minds, the fact that I'm not a doctor somehow negates anything I say, before I even say it. The fact that they're not doctors doesn't stop them from literally thinking they can diagnose me medically, but that doesn't count I guess. 

 There is one person, among quite a few others, I might add, who aren't bothered by the fact that I'm not a doctor. In fact he's extremely glad I'm not. I've been talking about my buddy Chef Dave, from the crazy restaurant, since I've been blogging. He's an intense cat, as you can probably tell from the photo.  By nature he's a man's man and a manly-man, and he takes no shit from anyone. 

 By default he's a badass, but he never used his badassness to take advantage of anybody. He's stern, firm, fair and reasonable, grumpy as fuck sometimes and hugging on people at others. He's good-hearted and good-natured, smart as a whip and funny as hell. He has an amazing sense of humor. He was well-versed in the old was as well as the new, and he had a good moral compass. 

 For a while I blogged about him more than I actually saw him. Except for running into him a few times I didn't see him or even really talk to him for almost a decade. In that time he'd gotten married, had a kid, gotten divorced, gotten into some very bad habits, but to his credit, and by the grace of God (his words), he came back from that. He also had three major heart attacks. 

 I'd heard through the grapevine that he'd gotten way into drinkin' and druggin' and such, and had lost a good job, pissed-off his family and such. I'd hoped it wasn't completely true, because he's such a great guy for one thing, and I hated to see him down. It just didn't sound like him at all. Before he married the woman he had a kid with, he'd married a gal we worked with at the restaurant. Sadly they divorced. I knew it fucked him up, but I didn't know to what degree. A few years later we lost contact.

 About four years ago he friended me on Facebook. We immediately started talking like no time had passed, except things were different, and more for him than me. A friend of ours who played in a couple of bands with me, and now plays with Bonerama, among others, was playing in town, and I invited Dave. He wanted to go, but he said he wasn't feeling well, and that he was going to lie down. Luckily a beautiful woman and long-time friend of his, named Kelly, got wind of the gig and talked him into going out. She and I hit it off, but nothing came of it. 

 Just hearing him talk about not feeling well was unusual, at least compared to the Dave I knew not that long ago. I was incredibly excited to see him again, but I was also a little apprehensive. It was great how I saw him after all that time. They were playing in a courtyard outside, and it was packed, mostly with people who used to come see our bands, and were also very good friends. It was packed, and I found a seat at a big round table and sat down.

 Right away I saw a couple-dozen of people I love, and hadn't seen in a good while. I sat down with somebody, and I was still talking to a few people who were standing up. I didn't pay any attention to anyone else at the table. It happened that I sat at the table where Dave was sitting, directly across from me, but I didn't see him. He saw me but he didn't say a word. When I finally looked around, there he was, looking at me with that 3D smile of his. 

 I yelled his name automatically, and we both started laughing. We stood up, worked our way around the table, and had a big ol' bearhug. I was thrilled to see him again, and I think he was okay with it too. Even though I was lit-up happy to see him, my heart also sank a bit, although I tried to hide it. He wasn't the same Dave I saw about eight years earlier. 

 He was overweight. He was walking with a cane. He never said anything, but it was obvious he was in a good deal of pain. Even his skin looked bad. It was pocked and rough, with some zits for good measure. I was really glad his friend Kelly had gotten him out, but he wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't feeling well. It was from pain. Normally they'd have prescribed opiates, but since he's a recovering addict they gave him a whole bunch of other bullshit instead, and it made him feel like shit. 

 He called me a few days later. He said that he felt awful, and he felt like the meds weren't helping at all, and in fact were making him worse. He remembered that I was into natural remedies, when possible, and asked if I had any suggestions. I was thrilled that he not only remembered that I was into that stuff, but that he was willing to give it a try, and that he sought my advice. Dave and I were cool. We were big buddies and never had a cross-word between us, and we trusted each other, but it was an honor that he respected my knowledge and experience enough to give it a try. 

 He told me what all was going on with him...not sleeping well, anxious, despite taking tranquilizers and sleeping pills, lack of energy, which granted is a part of getting old, pain, bad knees, and back, weight-gain and a few other things. I told him to come over. I put together a goody bag of everything I had on hand, and suggested a few things I was out of or that I thought would be good. By the time he arrived I had everything ready, and had sent him links to the other stuff. 

 We had a nice time. He hadn't seen my mom in over a quarter-century, and he was blown away by the fact that not only did she remember him, but she remembered a few of the dishes he came up with, like his famous polenta with sundried tomato coulis. Back in the day Dave was crazy about my mom, and she him. Whenever she came to the restaurant, he always made time to freshen-up and go out into the dining room to say hello, no matter how bust he was. They had a good long hug, and picked-up like old friends.

 I filled a few capsules with Turmeric and black pepper, and gave him some loose powder and empty gelcaps. I also gave him some multicollagen, organic fiber with probiotics. Probiotics are KEY...a healthy gut means a healthy immune system, and even helps with mental well-being. How's about that? I gave him some Blackseed oil, Spirulina, Butterfly Pea flowers for tea, and Ashwagandha. 

 Ashwagandha is tied with Butterfly Pea (Clitoria turnatea) for first place on my list of herbs, especially in this day and age. It takes about six weeks to fully kick-in, but it lowers Cortisol levels. Cortisol is a stress hormone. It's very toxic and causes a host of problems, including inflammation, which is the root cause of pretty much every disease. About two years ago someone in the family told me that her son was having anxiety and stress issues, but didn't want to get on meds, as his real doctor wanted. Long story short he was delighted with the results, is talking it regularly, and never had to get on meds. Bravo. Word got around and now at least two other cuzzes are also taking it. I'm happy to oblige. 

 I suggested a few other things. He asked about CBD. I told him I'd absolutely say take it, although the other things covered a lot of the bases already, but redundancy never hurts. He said he'd get some, and the other things I suggested. Over the next few weeks I talked to him every other day, but he never said anything about taking the stuff, and I figured either he didn't think it would work, or just didn't want to fool with it. It turns out he followed my instructions to the letter, including ordering the other stuff.

 We spoke often, but I didn't see him in person for about two months. One day he called and said he was over this way, and asked if I wanted to go to the river. I didn't expect that, but I didn't say no. I figured he wouldn't want to walk around much, so I picked a spot with benches, so he could sit while the dog and I got our paws wet. I needn't have worried. 

 I was outside when he pulled up, and I literally did a double-take when I saw him. My head jerked to the side and I blinked hard, before opening my eyes again. I said "What the hell, man...you been to the spa?" "Huh?" he said. "You look...damn...it's night and day! You look like a million bucks." I said. "I feel like it too" he said. It's great, huh?" "Dang" I probably replied. 

 The first thing I noticed was that his skin was clear again, and he'd lost weight. It was a sunny day but compared to the last few times I saw him, he glowed. The look of pain was gone, and I was really glad to see that. His eyes were clearer, and he just looked much healthier in general. "That shit's working" he said. "I see" I replied. I didn't see his cane. "Where's your stick?" I asked. "Don't need it now" he said. "Wow." 

 In that short time, maybe ten weeks, he'd literally turned his health around. He'd stopped taking several of his meds and cut way down on the others, with his real doctor's approval. Not only did his doc approve, but he was blown away, and rightly so. When he saw the improvement in Dave he asked questions, and Dave referred him to me. I thanked him respectfully for his interest, and sent him some links, and told him about some things that I and others had experienced.

 He started looking into things, and he got back to me a couple of times with questions. A real doctor was seeking advice from a non-doctor. I love it, and he deserves a lot of credit for being open-minded, and looking into this stuff. Of course he could see the changes right before his eyes, but most doctors would chalk it up to spontaneous-remission or whatever. I wonder what my family members would say to that, and he's not the only real doctor (real dentists and vets too) who's asked me questions. They don't teach this stuff in med school, for a reason. Most doctors have no idea that ALL medicines originally came from, and STILL DO come from, plants. Doctors don't know everything. 

 These family members know Dave well. They know he doesn't bullshit people, and that he'd never fool with "alternative meds" if they didn't help. I never bothered to tell them. I guess in their minds, what happened to Dave is invalid, since, you guessed it...I'm not a doctor. It's just a fluke I guess, or a coincidence. It doesn't count, because I'm not a doctor. Try telling that to Dave. Or his doctor. 

 Results speak for themselves. The funny thing is, the medicines they gave him did little to help, and overall made him feel much worse, due to the side-effects. The "medicines" I gave him actually did way more to help, with ZERO side-effects. It's not Voodoo...these plants contain the same compounds they synthesize in the lab, reproduce chemically, saddle with a 15-syllable name, with letters, dashes, emojis and shit that no one can pronounce or enter into a search window easily, and charge fifty times what the natural form costs. I also gave him some serious nutrients and things to help detox the body, which isn't part of a real doctor's routine. That's a shame. Those things are very important. 

 Even knowing that this stuff works, I was astonished at what it did for Dave. So was his doctor, and so was a friend of ours named Cam, who also worked at the crazy restaurant. Cam's a great guy, and we were big buddies back them. He bought some land near here that has a natural spring, with super-pure water, which he bottles and sells under the name of Blue Water. After we went to the river, where Dave not only kept up with me and El Doggo, but also stripped to his skivvies and dove in for a swim. I had to laugh. Dave was back. 

 Later that day he drove to Cam's place to get some water. I got a call, with Dave and Cam on speaker. He said Cam nearly dropped the case of water he was holding when he saw him at the door. He couldn't believe it either. Dave told him that I'd fixed him up, so he wanted to tell me that I was a Shaman, and he wanted every single item on the list that I'd given Dave. He ordered everything right on the spot, and I'm not a doctor. 

 Does Dave care that I'm not a doctor? Nah. Cam? Nope. Even the real doctor? No, not even him. And BTW, any doctor who's willing to ignore what they're taught in med school- that herbs are bogus, and start looking into it, is a good doctor in my book. I wish my family members could hear it from Dave. One of them saw him when he was sick, and they'd have to agree he looks better, but it's fake. I'm not a doctor.

 

 

Five Finger Near-Death Punch

A vid titled something like "Ivan Moody of Five Finger Death Punch Nearly Dies from Alcohol Withdrawal" kept showing up in my YT feed. The thumbnail mentioned a near-death experience. I like a song or two they do, but I'm not really a big 5FDP fan, so I kept ignoring it, but the NDE thing got my attention. Usually I don't give a shit what "Rock Star" nearly ODs from what drug or whatever, but it kept popping up, so I thought maybe I was supposed to see it. I was.

 The story goes that Moody, a hardcore alcoholic, tried to stop drinking, cold-turkey, all on his own and without any medical supervision. Frankly that's a dumbass move, but maybe he didn't get the memo. After the fourth day he seized and died. Luckily his daughter was there, and she called paramedics. He was revived after an unspecified time, and he came back with a story to tell. I had a slim hope he might mention God, which he did, although not how I'd hoped, but the rest of the story was basically New-Age gobbledygook. 

 It sounded all positive and shit, which is how the deception works. He basically said that he found himself in a place of "love and light." He said that his life flashed before his eyes, from infancy to now, and that it was "good." He felt completely at peace. Sounds good, eh? Finally he realized that he had "more work to do," and that, coupled with the fact that the paramedics applied the paddles, caused him to zoom back into his body. He said that when he came-to, his face was wet, and it was from his daughter's tears, as she lay her head on his face, crying.

 It's a touching story, but of course I call bullshit. Tears and electricity don't mix. There's a reason they yell "CLEAR" before they hit the juice, and someone weeping on the patient is highly-contraindicated. He continued the fairy tale by saying that the first words out of his mouth were: "Don't tell my fans!" He went on to say how great it was that he didn't think first about trivial shit like his daughter weeping on his face, not to mention being brought back to life...it was his fans that mattered the most to him. Bullshit. 

 For someone wanting to hide the truth from his beloved fans, he sure put out a video message to them, from which this image is taken, pretty quickly. He signed-off with the ubiquitous devil horns. Of course he did. He said that he'd left some of the "bad things" in his life up yonder in the place of love and light. That's a nice touch. Except for the presence of any entities, or the dearly-departed, it sounded similar to many NDE stories, right down to the bit about having more work to do on Earth. 

 I wonder what "bad" things he left on the other side, because he said that he was still into Wiccan, and Satanism too, only "not the kind where they kill cats," but the kind where they do the "real work." I wonder what the "real work" is. He said it involves empathy. I've been casually researching Satanism since I was a teenager, and I don't know about the "good kind" of Satanism, but I can say with total assurance that in the real Satanism, empathy is absolutely NOT part of the deal. He serves Satan. Satan is the father of lies, and I think Mr. Moody is chock-full of them. 

 He went "all-in" and proclaimed "You don't need to seek God. You don't." And there you have it. Maybe he's right, and maybe he's wrong. If I were the Devil and Ivan was my puppet, that's exactly the message I'd want him to "take back" with him. I believe that's exactly what happened. Like I've said, either God and the Devil are real, or they aren't. It's a 50-50 chance, and I don't fuck with those odds. 

 I say this guy signed on the line, like they all have to do, and he's sending the message to his fans that the Devil wants him to send. It's no different from any other megacorporation- once you sign, you have to do shit that you may not like doing, but you do it anyway, not just for fame and fortune but because once you sign, your very ass is on the line, and the asses of your family too, BTW. You do what they say.

 So this is the message he sent to his fans...you know, the fans that at first he didn't want to tell, but were more important to him than his daughter's tears, or even life itself- you don't need God to get to the place of "love and light" when you die, and Satanism is cool, as long as it's the "good" kind. Is that like "white" witchcraft? The only thing about his story I think is real is the part about dying and coming back to life. Quitting heavy alcohol-abuse cold-turkey absolutely can be fatal, and again I have to wonder how smart he is. 

 He says that he now has a "new fire" inside. That's an interesting choice of words. The sad thing is that his fans will totally eat this shit up, right down to believing the bullshit about them being the most important thing in his life. It's his job to tell people that they don't need God. Maybe he's right, and maybe he's wrong. He says it's all good, yo, and you'll go to "Heaven" when you die, no matter what. You can even be a Satanist...it's no problem.

 I say he's full of shit, and that the Devil is a liar, and that Jesus died for my sins, and his too. Maybe I'm right and maybe I'm wrong. The odds be fifty-fifty. I ain't fuckin' with those odds. I say he's wrong. One day we'll all know the truth. 
 

Nun-burned

Back when I had a company making organic skin-care products, I had the main lotion, and formulas for diaper rash and sunburn. I called the sunburn stuff "Noneburn." I realize it's maybe a little cheeseball, but it describes exactly what it does. It's short and sweet, and it rhymes with "sunburn." People will remember a name like that much more easily than some generic product name, cheesy or not.

 I thought it was perfect, but it absolutely bugged the shit out of my ex, which made it even better (just kidding). She said it made her think of a sunburned nun. That cracked me up. Just saying "sunburned nun" is funny. If a nun were to hit the beach and forgot the SPF-175, she could get a wicked sunburn, although only on her hands and in a circle on her face. I don't know which was funnier...the thought of a sunburned nun, or the fact that it bothered my ex so much.

 I couldn't help but think of the ancient TV show The Flying Nun, starring Sally Field. I could picture her flying around above the convent for hours, and getting burnt. I don't think she wore a bikini in The Flying Nun, but she did in Gidget. Back then I'd have loved to see her tan-line. After a day of filming and frolicking on the beach, I'm sure she got sunburned quite a few times. My lotion would've helped a lot, and I'd have gladly helped her apply it. Did I say that? Mother Mary forgive me...I'll do penance. 

 I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS. I WILL NOT THINK ABOUT SALLY FIELD'S TITS...

 "Nun burn." That's funny. I guess if you think of it that way, it's pretty gnarly, and I can see my ex's point, whether it's a bit unusual to think of that or not, but I decided that I liked it more than she hated it. I printed Noneburn labels, and sold some. It really worked incredibly-well for sunburn, and in fact it'd help a sunburned nun, on the off-chance you found one. Ha-ha-ha...maybe in honor of my ex, I could relaunch it, and make new labels with a sunburned nun, smiling into the camera...and winking. That's cold.

 
 

The Pedo Files: This Look Says It All (introducing Pedoface)

The look on the guy on the right's face is incredible. You can click to enlarge. He's a cop who's been called to the scene of a cofrontation between a predator and predator-catchers. He's just found out that not only was the guy on the left there to meet with a 13-yo girl, but that he wanted to do horrible things to her, and he had a bag of "toys" that included a leash and collar, "clamps," lube and "anal relaxer," and even a buttplug. "Sick" doesn't describe it.

 I can't remember ever seeing such a look of pure horror, disgust, repulsion and shock in my life. It's from the heart, and it pretty much sums this bitch up. For the five seconds or so that he held this look in the video, he deserves an Oscar. You can't fake that look. The other officer commented "Oh, dear." Indeed. That's classic. 

 For the record, this piece-of-shit is a standout in the world of pedos, who're deeply-sick to begin with. He was into other very disturbing shit besides just kids. It's hard to imagine a person like this. He's a godless, soulless, heartless, remorseless monster. Cops have seen it all, and aren't usually shocked. This cop was. If looks could kill...

 This creep is an automaton. His lifeless stare was hard to watch. He's an empty vessel, and empty vessels are what Satan wants. This person has a demon, and I mean in the literal sense. I don't care if it sounds crazy...if demons are real, they're real, and we'll all know the truth one day then, won't we? If they are real, then this fuck has one for sure, and probably several actually.

 Speaking of Oscars, this fool is just like a fucked-up character out of a David Lynch film, only it's much creepier because this guy is actually real. He makes Eraserhead look like Christopher Robin. It just now made me laugh to think how fucked-up this guy is...that's how bad he is. You just have to laugh for a second, to relieve the horror. They say that actors sometimes get into roles so deeply, especially with characters like this guy, that they remain in character when the cameras aren't rolling, and even after shooting is over. I'd hate to play this fuck in a movie. As it is I may have nightmares.

Up until now, this iconic image, from King Crimson's legendary first LP, was the most striking example of this kind of expression, although it's a little heavier on the fear-factor, but the look on that cop's face is just as intense to me, and again, because it's real. 

 Sadly, the artist, Barry Godber, died suddenly and at a young age, and before he got to see his masterpiece released on the LP jacket. I always wondered what inspired him to do this painting. Maybe he met a sick fuck like Pedomon here. 

I have to say that the cop's face stands up to Barry's. The folks who are building AI robots, and want to get the most lifelike expressions, should study this cop's face. Barry Godber's face is still freaking people out to this day, after half a century, but sorry, Mr. Godber...there's a new face in town...the Pedoface. Fucking yikes. Protect your kids. 

  

 

Quote of the Day

"If you want people to identify with you, don't dress like 'Ski-Resort Barbie.'" - Chase Hughes, body-language expert, on Belle Gibson, who faked having brain cancer
 

A Gentle Reminder to the Elites

Remember y'all Satanists, the harshest punishments are reserved for those who harm children. Your boss' time is short, which means yours is too. Oh yeah, and payback is HELL. Your boss is a LIAR, and eternity is a really, really long time. Have a nice day...while you still can.
 

One Who Didn't Make the Jump (RIP John)

I've told the story before about the time back in high school when I jumped the family Buick, going around 115MPH on Brookwood Road. I mentioned that not one, but two other people had died trying it before I did it, and John Holland was one of them. RIP man. I can't remember the other guy's name without going through my old annual, but John made two.

 This may sound a bit gruesome, but John's death actually confirmed a theory about why he and the other guy had died trying it, and actually gave me the final push to do it, as crazy as that sounds. It let me know that I could overcome the mistake I was sure they'd made. 

 I'll get the gruesome part out of the way. I drove by the scene in time to see them washing his blood down the gutter, and sweeping up the last of the glass. It may sound cold, but by then I was pretty certain I was going to do it, and I had to get a look at the scene to see if my theory on why they didn't make it was correct. Make no mistake...his death hit us hard, but he and I weren't close at all. I set aside my feelings to have a look.

 One thing's for sure...out of all the crazy-ass stunts I pulled, this was probably the craziest. It was definitely the most dangerous. Two guys had already died trying it, which would deter most people, but from what I knew about Physics (no kidding), how the car handled, watching other jumps and such, I really felt like I could make it without a scratch. If I didn't, I'd have never thought about doing it. 

 It wasn't for the faint-of-heart, to say the least, and it wasn't like I could practice and work up to it gradually, like everyone from Evel Knievel to anybody who's ever jumped, by starting out with slower speeds and shorter ramps. I knew that if I was going to do it, I'd only get one try. 

 It may sound like I was some sort of ne'erdowell, or a just-plain dumbass, which has been debated, but even though I did some seriously crazy things, I didn't exactly fit the profile of a future criminal or anything. I made good grades and the teachers liked me, plus I was in several clubs and did a lot of extracurricular stuff for the school. I figured I earned the right to raise a little Hell.

 By the same token I obviously didn't mind taking chances, but I wasn't reckless. Lots of things came up out of the blue, when an opportunity presented itself, but for things like jumping a car, I planned as carefully as I possibly could, if only mentally. You can bet I stayed up a few nights, running through an imaginary jump again and again. I was a Type-A, but I had no wish to even have to use a Bandaid if I could help it. 

 Back in the day everybody would drive over it fast, maybe 50-55 tops, and for half a second you'd be almost weightless, and your stomach would go up into your throat. It was a fun way to scare the girls, but I knew I'd have to be going a hell of a lot faster to pull it off. The cops also knew how fun it was, so they'd often hide in the parking lot of a church that sat past the jump, and you couldn't see them until it was too late. If they'd been sitting there the night I jumped, I'd have been put under the jail. 

 They've since redone that section of the road several times, and reduced the rise and dip a bit, but back then it was a pretty serious natural launch. The drop was fairly steep, and there was a little rise just before the brink, which gave some extra air, like the lip at the end of a ski-jump. From the far-end to the jump, Brookwood Road went more or less straight for maybe ten blocks, so you could build up a good head of steam.

 I knew I'd need every bit of that distance to get up to speed. It was a perfect distance. The Buick wasn't a racecar, but it was the "sport" model, and it wouldn't do 0-60 in 3.7 seconds or whatever, but it'd get going pretty fast, and it handled very well at high speeds, which obviously made it possible. I did go over the jump several times at maybe 65 or so, and get a tiny bit of air, and a little bit of a feel for the jump, but I couldn't go any faster. If I did, I'd get too much air, but not enough to make the jump, if that makes sense. 

 There was another issue that made it a good bit more dangerous. Just past the jump, the road veered to the left at maybe a 5-degree angle, so when (and if) you landed at the proper distance, you'd be at a different angle to the road, and headed for a yard. With a proper jump, the car would land mostly in the road, but immediately go into the yard. Luckily the yard was really long and fairly flat, but there was a huge Fir tree directly in the path of the projected landing. It was 10' across at the bottom, and the branches went all the way to the ground.

 It was maybe 150' past the jump, and I knew that once I'd confirmed I had control of the steering, with about half a second to decide, I'd have to brake hard, turn slightly to the left to get more tire-drag, and I'd end up trenching the everloving fuck out of the yard, which luckily for me happened. Running into the tree at highway speed wouldn't have been good, but I figured I could stop in plenty of time if I really worked the brakes. Another thing was the gutter between the road and yard. It was wide and gently-curved, but landing the right wheel in it just right could delay getting control of the steering.

 Speaking of steering-control, if you jump a motorcycle, you want to land with the rear wheel slightly before the front wheel, to absorb the initial shock of landing before the front wheel touches down. Same with an airplane. In a car though, you ideally want to land with all four wheels at the same time. Whichever you jump, or fly, you definitely don't want to land front-wheel(s) first. If the front wheel or wheels absorb the shock, it can wrench the turnin' wheel, or handlebars or yoke, right out of your hands, and steering is lost. A Wipeout is a strong possibility. 

 I'd estimated that I'd have to keep the accelerator down from the far end to the jump, and I'd get however many feet of air it was, 3-4 carlengths I think. I guessed the right wheel would land pretty close to the gutter, and I'd be headed straight for a big-ass tree, if I made the jump that is. I knew to use a seatbelt. Safety first. I figured either it'd be a glorious and perfect jump, thrilling as Hell, and I'd be immortalized, or possibly I'd be the third death in one year. Hero...or "In Memorium." Quite a spread there. I also knew that once I committed, that was it. If I changed my mind before I hit the jump and backed-off, I wouldn't have enough speed to make the proper distance, which would be way more dangerous than just the jump itself. 

 It wasn't about bragging rights...I wanted to see what it'd feel like...purely for the thrill. I wasn't about to literally risk my life just to be a badass. I also knew that while a drink or two might give me the final push to actually do it, and a bowl would be fine, there was no way in Hell I'd be drunk, even a little. Besides not wanting to be drunk if I got pulled-over by the police, it was literally a matter of life and death. A tiny loss of coordination is greatly-magnified at speeds of over 100MPH, not to mention jumping a family Buick at that speed. You don't fuck-around when you're going that fast. 

 In school there were some artist-types and such, and one guy from the former-USSR, who hardly spoke a word, and literally spent most of the day holding the door for everyone else, it was basically divided into two groups. On the "left" was the "army-jacket" crowd, who dressed differently, mostly kept to themselves, and smoked more pot than I did, and which John belonged to, and to the "right" were the jock/egghead students, who all had a 98-average, and/or played sports and fucked the cheerleaders. I split the difference, and had friends in both groups. 

 Even though John and I weren't close, I did feel really bad at the scene, but I had to go. I had errands to do that day, and I'd probably have driven by there anyway. When I got a call that Saturday morning, I waited a few minutes and headed that way. I had to see the skidmarks while they were still fresh. I was, and am still, good friends with a cop, and I figured he'd be there. 

 When I arrived they'd taken John away, I made sure of that, and they'd towed the car. The road was still blocked-off, but I saw my buddy and he let me in before they took the barricades away. I told him I wanted to look at how it landed, and he was totally cool with it. He knew I was into speed and stuff. Just for fun he'd park his car along South Brookwood Road, which ran between Brookwood and Overton Road, which was heavily-sloped at that part, and clock me on my Schwinn Continental. 

 We walked over to have a look. I saw the skid marks, and got my answer. There were only two marks instead of four, and that told the tale. They were short...no more than a foot long, and there was a bulge at the start, indicating serious tire-deformation. He'd landed front-wheels-first, and had lost control. "What do you see?" asked my buddy. "Front wheels first" I said. "He lost it." "Yep" he said. "He never had a chance." I didn't see how his car had landed, but he said it rolled a few times. I'm sure it did.

 I said goodbye to my friend and drove off, knowing that at least I wouldn't be making the same mistake. So, what happened? In both cases, they were possibly too wasted to drive to begin with, or they greatly-underestimated the speed they'd need to nail the jump, but I think that they chickened-out at the last minute, and eased-off on the speed. They didn't get nearly enough air, and when the front wheels hit, the turnin' wheel was yanked out of their hands. I don't know how much it mattered anyway, because a car going that fast and landing front-wheels-first is almost guaranteed to flip. 

 I may be a lunatic, but that gave me the final push to do it myself. At least I knew what not to do. One night the perfect opportunity arose. My buddy Paul, who now owns a super-high-end auto shop, called The Auto Shop, in fact, had been working on my VW Squareback, and wanted to test-drive it, so I went over to his house in my mom's Buick Le Sabre, and he followed me home in the Vee-Dub. It hit me that it was now or never, and I'd have a witness. It was on. 

 We were on the long, flat part of Brookwood Road. Paul was putting the car through its paces, so I was following from a good distance behind. I decided to go for it, and there was no turning back. I eased-down on the accelerator, and when I got up to around 50, I put the pedal to the floor, and kept it there until I was in the air. About 4 or 5 blocks in, I blew through a stop sign and passed Paul, going about 65 by then. I can still see the look on his face as I passed him and gave him a thumbs-up. He was grinning and his eyes were huge, and he had an "Oh, shit...you're really going to do it" look on his face. I laughed.

 This was around the "oil crisis" of the 70s. In a weird move to try to keep people from driving too fast, car-makers put a little peg on the speedometer at 90MPH, which kept the needle from going any further and indicating the true speed, although the car could go much faster. So I'm not sure exactly how fast I was going when I hit the jump, but the speedo had been pegged at 90 for at least three blocks, so I'm guessing I was going at least 115 when I hit the jump. Paul pushed my VW as fast as it would go, to get a closer look at the jump. 

 About a block or so short of the jump, I was feeling good about things, but I did say a little prayer...mostly for the Buick and not me. I hit the ramp and I was airborne. They say that time slows down with stuff like this, and it really did. When I left the road, everything got quiet. The speedo started to fall back to zero, although I was hauling-ass. I thought that was funny. I held the steering wheel with a light grip, knowing that when I landed, it would probably jerk around a bit. 

 I hit the jump, and WHOOOOOSSSSH...I was flying. I was floating above my seat, weightless. That was an amazing experience. Midway through I knew I was on course, and I expected to land perfectly, which I did. All four wheels hit the pavement together. There were two "barks," one when I landed, and one when I made a steering-correction to the left. The car had actually bounced a few feet after it landed. I went into the yard, turned the wheel to the left and applied the brakes. The car went sideways, trenching the fuck out of the yard and sending up rooster tails of grass and dirt. Perfect. 

 I stopped well-short of the Fir tree, aimed for the road and hit the gas, all in one motion and without ever stopping. I'll have to say that it couldn't have been executed any better, and I was proud of myself. Word quickly spread that I'd nailed the jump, and several people went by there just to see the massive trenches I'd left in the yard. I drove by the next day, and I cracked-up when I saw the trenches. They could've planted an apple orchard or whatever, without doing any plowing. I plowed it for them. I felt bad, but whomever lived there is probably dead by now I reckon, so c'est la vie. 

 Although I'd achieved cult-status overnight, it was so late in the school-year that I didn't get to enjoy my newfound fame for very long before we graduated, but that wasn't why I did it. People would come up and say things like "Way to go, Evel! Glad you didn't die." It was great. There wasn't a scratch on me or the Buick. I ran into my cop-buddy a few weeks later, and he'd figured out it was I who'd jumped, because of my interest in John's crash.

 He said "I see where somebody made the jump on Brookwood. Do you know anything about it?" "Officer, I stand on the Fifth" I said. We cracked-up. "Well," he said, "I'm glad you made it." "Me too." "That was a professional jump, man. Have you done this before?" he asked. "Only on my bike" I replied. "You nailed it" he said. "I went over it again and again in my head" I told him. "I see" he said. "Here's to the guys who didn't make it." "Amen" he said. What a night. RIP, John and other guy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

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