Monthly Archives: January 2008

>I’m thinking of going Goth

>I’ve finally decided I need an avatar. That’s right. I am finally embracing my interweb geekyness. For those of you who don’t know what an avatar is: An avatar, placed next to my posts, is a picture that represents me. A lot of thought must to go into this. Choosing an Avatar is a lot like choosing a tattoo. It’s a highly personal expression of one’s self. Like a colorful dragon or a naked woman who’s private parts are covered by your armpit hair and appears to dance when you flex.

Using business lingo: I accept my paradigm-monkeying, synergy-strategising, cross-platform, aspiration statement and have decided to choose an avatar. I have narrowed my choices to:

Photobucket
Batman slugging the shark: (BSTS) Originally from the movie, “Batman” starring Adam West, the greatest actor of his generation, it features Batman beating a shark from his leg while hanging from a helicopter. It touches the jejune nature of our existence, the banality of our every day lives and the need to get this motherf*cking shark off my motherf*cking leg! For those of you who didn’t know, BSTS was the inspiration behind the blockbuster Hollywood mega-movie, Snakes on a Plane. Originally it was Sharks on a Plane. Before that it was Sharks on a Helicopter.

Photobucket
Hammer time: Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Oh, and next time you decide to employ 35 dancers and musicians for each show, you might want to look at how much the gig is paying. But Hammer did it right! I plan on meeting my death bankrupt, in debt, and being chased by Guido the killer pimp. As Dewey Cox said, “I want a whole army of digery-doos” for this track. I’m pretty sure he meant the soundtrack of our lives. Hammer speaks to my need to put on a good show before I leave the stage.

Photobucket
Goth Dance is a favorite. This is a clip from South Park. Goth always makes me laugh. It says, we’re different so we’re all going to act the same. By why choose morose? If you’re going to act the same choose something like, ‘60’s flower children,’ and act unnaturally happy. If the ultimate goal is to freak out your parents, make them think you’re tripping balls all day; that will get a reaction.

also,

As this never ending demented winter consumes my soul, everyday I think of turning Goth. I’m a white, 46yr old fat guy who drives a Volvo. Goth may be my only choice now. I feel the need to dye my hair black, leaving my bangs unusually long so I have to flip the hair from my eyes when I speak. I’ll guess I’ll also need some tattoos, a Prince Albert and some nipple studs. (I can’t wait to go thru Airport screening with a Prince Albert.) But I’m willing to go for it, if, at the end of this journey of transformation, I can find a hot Goth chick who will drone on-and-on about the inequities of life and how horrid our parents are. That turns me on.

Dark Helmet was the first Goth. He knew how to bring it, which leads me to:

Photobucket
In this clip from Spaceballs, Dark Helmet is watching the movie of Spaceballs while the movie is being filmed. That’s the way I feel all the time. Stop looking at my movie. Wait, you’re in my movie. Okay, you can be part of the Tommy Korioth experience, but only while I’m in it. And you can’t watch me go Goth. Okay, you can watch me go Goth, but you have to get a Prince Albert. I’ll be taking Sentanyl and Versed – the time travel drugs, for the procedure. You must get yours cold sober.

Photobucket
This one is called The Flying Hand. I don’t know where its from or what it means, but this avatar speaks to me. It says, we are all television heads, and someday, a flying hand will come out of nowhere to turn us off, and then we’ll explode at the bottom of a quarry into a cheap special effect. What better way to describe life?

It also says that someone wrote this. Someone actually sat down at a typewriter and scripted a giant hand slapping T.V. head and then blowing up. WTF? And they say LSD is dead. I want that job. No, wait, . . . I am that job. Someone get me some LSD.

Photobucket

Horropher is an interweb favorite. It’s been used too much, but it still has its charm. It says, Hey, don’t you dare!

Photobucket

Janet Jackson’s boob is another favorite. If you can’t see the clip I’ve included it’s because photobucket has already censored it. Who would of thought one highly decorated nipple could do so much damage. And don’t they understand it was a wardrobe malfunction?!?!? It was an accident! Why would they think, for one second, that she meant for her adorned nipple to make such a spectacular debut? If the wardrobe malfunction wasn’t a malfunction, that means it was a conspiracy. And that means JFK was shot from the grassy knoll. It means the Flying Hand clip wasn’t scripted and the LSD I took ten minutes ago is taking effect. Long Live the Night Ninjas!

I need your help. I have placed a poll next to this article so we can all vote on my new avatar. Do it for Jesus. Be aware: if you choose Goth, I go Goth. If you choose Batman, I am Batman, and if you choose Janet Jackson’s boob, I’ll wear that nipple jewelry. If you choose Spaceballs I will wear a dark helmet and constantly ask everyone why they are in my movie.

Also,

I came across this tiny piece of info in the interweb. If you feel like screwing with someone on the phone, this is the phone number of those religious nuts that protest soldiers funerals by carrying signs that say, “God Hates Fags.” Maybe you should give them a call and just say hi.
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
(785) 273-0325

I’m thinking of going Goth

I’ve finally decided I need an avatar. That’s right. I am finally embracing my interweb geekyness. For those of you who don’t know what an avatar is: An avatar, placed next to my posts, is a picture that represents me. A lot of thought must to go into this. Choosing an Avatar is a lot like choosing a tattoo. It’s a highly personal expression of one’s self. Like a colorful dragon or a naked woman who’s private parts are covered by your armpit hair and appears to dance when you flex.

Using business lingo: I accept my paradigm-monkeying, synergy-strategising, cross-platform, aspiration statement and have decided to choose an avatar. I have narrowed my choices to:

Photobucket
Batman slugging the shark: (BSTS) Originally from the movie, “Batman” starring Adam West, the greatest actor of his generation, it features Batman beating a shark from his leg while hanging from a helicopter. It touches the jejune nature of our existence, the banality of our every day lives and the need to get this motherf*cking shark off my motherf*cking leg! For those of you who didn’t know, BSTS was the inspiration behind the blockbuster Hollywood mega-movie, Snakes on a Plane. Originally it was Sharks on a Plane. Before that it was Sharks on a Helicopter.

Photobucket
Hammer time: Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Oh, and next time you decide to employ 35 dancers and musicians for each show, you might want to look at how much the gig is paying. But Hammer did it right! I plan on meeting my death bankrupt, in debt, and being chased by Guido the killer pimp. As Dewey Cox said, “I want a whole army of digery-doos” for this track. I’m pretty sure he meant the soundtrack of our lives. Hammer speaks to my need to put on a good show before I leave the stage.

Photobucket
Goth Dance is a favorite. This is a clip from South Park. Goth always makes me laugh. It says, we’re different so we’re all going to act the same. By why choose morose? If you’re going to act the same choose something like, ‘60’s flower children,’ and act unnaturally happy. If the ultimate goal is to freak out your parents, make them think you’re tripping balls all day; that will get a reaction.

also,

As this never ending demented winter consumes my soul, everyday I think of turning Goth. I’m a white, 46yr old fat guy who drives a Volvo. Goth may be my only choice now. I feel the need to dye my hair black, leaving my bangs unusually long so I have to flip the hair from my eyes when I speak. I’ll guess I’ll also need some tattoos, a Prince Albert and some nipple studs. (I can’t wait to go thru Airport screening with a Prince Albert.) But I’m willing to go for it, if, at the end of this journey of transformation, I can find a hot Goth chick who will drone on-and-on about the inequities of life and how horrid our parents are. That turns me on.

Dark Helmet was the first Goth. He knew how to bring it, which leads me to:

Photobucket
In this clip from Spaceballs, Dark Helmet is watching the movie of Spaceballs while the movie is being filmed. That’s the way I feel all the time. Stop looking at my movie. Wait, you’re in my movie. Okay, you can be part of the Tommy Korioth experience, but only while I’m in it. And you can’t watch me go Goth. Okay, you can watch me go Goth, but you have to get a Prince Albert. I’ll be taking Sentanyl and Versed – the time travel drugs, for the procedure. You must get yours cold sober.

Photobucket
This one is called The Flying Hand. I don’t know where its from or what it means, but this avatar speaks to me. It says, we are all television heads, and someday, a flying hand will come out of nowhere to turn us off, and then we’ll explode at the bottom of a quarry into a cheap special effect. What better way to describe life?

It also says that someone wrote this. Someone actually sat down at a typewriter and scripted a giant hand slapping T.V. head and then blowing up. WTF? And they say LSD is dead. I want that job. No, wait, . . . I am that job. Someone get me some LSD.

Photobucket

Horropher is an interweb favorite. It’s been used too much, but it still has its charm. It says, Hey, don’t you dare!

Photobucket

Janet Jackson’s boob is another favorite. If you can’t see the clip I’ve included it’s because photobucket has already censored it. Who would of thought one highly decorated nipple could do so much damage. And don’t they understand it was a wardrobe malfunction?!?!? It was an accident! Why would they think, for one second, that she meant for her adorned nipple to make such a spectacular debut? If the wardrobe malfunction wasn’t a malfunction, that means it was a conspiracy. And that means JFK was shot from the grassy knoll. It means the Flying Hand clip wasn’t scripted and the LSD I took ten minutes ago is taking effect. Long Live the Night Ninjas!

I need your help. I have placed a poll next to this article so we can all vote on my new avatar. Do it for Jesus. Be aware: if you choose Goth, I go Goth. If you choose Batman, I am Batman, and if you choose Janet Jackson’s boob, I’ll wear that nipple jewelry. If you choose Spaceballs I will wear a dark helmet and constantly ask everyone why they are in my movie.

Also,

I came across this tiny piece of info in the interweb. If you feel like screwing with someone on the phone, this is the phone number of those religious nuts that protest soldiers funerals by carrying signs that say, “God Hates Fags.” Maybe you should give them a call and just say hi.
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
(785) 273-0325

Racism in Texas

I wanted to write about race after watching Shelby Steele on Bill Moyers’ Journal. He impressed me with his take on the subject. Paraphrasing; he said that neither blacks or whites are honest with one another. As a white guy who burns easily I took that as a challenge, so here I am being honest.

The problem, Steele said, is that “we mistakenly defined inequality in America as racism and injustice when it was in fact underdevelopment.” I couldn’t agree more.

Steele went on to describe how blacks like Obama must put on a mask, giving the white man the benefit of the doubt. Obama, who comes from a mixed marriage, assumes that not every white man is racist. Other black Americans feel slighted by this attitude. Black leaders like Al Sharpton come from the opposite point of view.

Racism in Texas

When I was thirteen and just starting to question my father about racism, he did a smart thing. He said, “If I was a black man in the 1950’s I would have taken a shotgun and killed every white man I could find.” It was a powerful statement. He left it hanging. He didn’t explain it. Why? What happened? It had the desired effect. The next weekend I went to the library to find out for myself about white men in the ‘50’s.

I’d like to say I spent the next few weeks reading about the atrocities committed against the black man in this country. I got the general idea after just a few hours and my real education on the subject wasn’t until many years later. At the time I couldn’t get past the pictures. I returned to my father and we shared the notion that black men in the ‘50’s displayed incredible restraint or a remarkable lack of firearms. Either way, my new reality stuck.

Texas Municipal League (TML)

Texas has 254 counties and I’m not sure how many small towns. The 2002 census puts the Texas population just over 21 million. Population of the major metropolitan areas (Dallas, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, El Paso) is around 15 million. That leaves 6 million rural Texans.

By the 1970’s most of the large municipalities had enough money to self insure. The rest of Texas was relegated to private insurance. Premiums were much higher for the hundreds of smaller counties and municipalities that were struggling to survive. My father, along with a cadre of other good liberals, help to create the Texas Municipal League; a self insurance fund. By pooling premiums, small municipalities could self insure each other. For the first time small towns and counties of Texas had a much cheaper insurance alternative. For many of them, it was the first time they even had insurance.

My father went on to become chief counsel and main lobbyist for TML, giving me an unique insight into Texas and racism.

In 1974 I was thirteen when my father took me to Bastrop (just south of Austin) for a workers’ compensation lawsuit. He represented a black man who had been hurt on the job when a flat bed pick-up had lost its brakes, rolled down a small incline, and pulverizing his legs between the bumper and a brick wall. He couldn’t walk after that, but he didn’t lose his legs. By Texas law if he had lost both legs he would been eligible to receive more benefits. The trial was straightforward. Medical testimony clearly demonstrated total loss of use of his legs. He would never walk again. Over 20 men saw the accident, and the jury came back with nothing. He was a black man in Bastrop country. He was shit out of luck.

[ The good news is the appellate court later overturned the verdict and the man eventually got his money. ]

It was my first direct encounter with real racism. Assholes. Obviously I had heard schoolmates say the n-word and even seen a few adults use the epithet in hate filled rants. But those instances were rare and had no consequence. This verdict hurt. This was real racism.

TML came on-line full force in the 1980’s, and I saw first hand what that meant. I can’t write about specific cases that would come across my father’s desk. Even though he has since passed, as an employee in his law firm I am bound by the same confidentiality my father was. So, hypothetically:

Let’s say an ambulance driver in B.F. Texas decides he hates blacks so much he isn’t going to offer service to ‘that part of town’ anymore. (Most small town and country ambulance service was provided on a contract basis by individuals.) Inevitably, a lawsuit would arise. “My husband was dying; why didn’t the ambulance come?” Juries began awarding large sums of TML insurance money to those that suffered at the hands of this kind of racism.

What was TML’s response? They did what any other insurance carrier would do. They told the counties or town that they were raising their rates. When the country commissioners realized they were paying 400 k a year for an ambulance that didn’t pick up blacks they fired him and the insurance rates went back down.

Same thing happened to those racist cops that filled rural Texas. Traditionally Sheriff cracker Billy-Bob redneck would go about his job kicking the shit out of blacks just to “keep them in their place.” And then something unusual began happening. Inevitably the Sheriff would be sued for violating someone’s civil rights. Juries began returning huge monetary awards for the victims. County Commissioners were surprised to see their rate rise back to pre-1970’s levels. They were losing large money by employing racist cops.

They were not quick to change. Small counties and towns were still run by Billy-Bob redneck’s brother, the Sheriff, and they weren’t going to let some insurance company tell them how to treat their ‘nigras.’ Eventually they almost always came back to TML (after firing the Sheriff.) Money seems to make its own morality.

It was the jury awards that spurred the change. Racism had changed in Texas. It may have still been acceptable to deny monetary recompense in civil cases, but direct violence was regarded as out-of-line. Cops couldn’t just go kick the crap out of blacks, just because. Law officers responded the only way they could, they began a DWB.(Driving While Black) harassment policy, but that’s another story.

Big City Racism v. Rural Racism

When a big city cop kills anyone there are repercussions. The black community rightfully protects their own and raises a stink. Jury awards for civil rights violations in cities are much higher than in rural Texas. The big cities had to fall in line quickly. Racism could never be policy in Houston so many cops went underground with it. And still, juries continued to level huge awards against racist cops when they were exposed. The no racism policy was forced to be proactive. Racism wasn’t to be tolerated. (But only because of the loss of money.)

I think it’s important to define what kind of racists there are. Not all racist are the same. Clearly visible on the far right is the KKK. I’d like to refer to these “Christians” as 1st class racists. I have a hard time convincing myself to mow the lawn. These knuckleheads actually hate enough to be proactive about their racism. These guys hate so much they feel inspired to join a club so they can hate in peace. You don’t see that too much in the major metro areas.

The Spectrum of Racism

1st Class racists can be defined as the ones that endorse lynchings. You don’t have to go further than the Texas Minutemen along the border to find these knuckleheads. Currently the lynchers seem more proactive against the Mexicans.

The KKK still exists in rural Texas. Six Klan members showed up in Austin to protest a few years back. Three thousand Austinites showed up to protest that protest. Racism is still alive and well, but the bulk of the Billy-bob rednecks have been relegated to rural Texas. Big city racism is a different animal.

2nd Class racist seems more confined to the belligerent Billy Bob rednecks. I have no doubt they hate blacks, Mexicans and gays, but if they find their way into a jury they have reservations about direct violence. – thus the huge civil awards.

3rd Class racist – there is no third class. There may be a huge population of Texans that don’t like African Americans but they understand the difference between disdain and hate. The racist moniker is too heavy to carry. Haters on a jury are likely to award recompense against unfair hiring policies or outright racism. He/she wouldn’t want to be identified as racist in front of the other jury members, and more often than not, being treated unfairly can happen to anyone. Haters are often the victim of unfair hiring practices. No one likes them.

And then you have the rest of us. The ones that are most upset when we can’t find the remote. The ones that find it hard to show up at work on time. The non-haters. Those that believe in equality. Which leads me to this story.

Accused of racism

Me? A racist? I was dumbstruck.

It was almost exactly ten years ago. I was walking my dog thru my mostly upper middle class neighborhood here in Austin. It was mid-July, well over 100 degrees. The only people I had seen were those passing me in their air conditioned cars.

The accusation came swift and pronounced. A black man who had been raking leaves walked deliberately up to me and my dog, yelling in full passion. “You racist mother f*cker! You racist mother f*cker!” A lot of what he said, he said twice. “What are you afraid of!?! What are you afraid of?!?”

“What?”

“I’m just a man. A working man! Did you think I was gonna’ rob ya? I’m a workin’ man! I’m a workin’ man!”

“What?”

“What? Is that all you have to say? You won’t even walk on the same side of the street as a black man? What? What mother f*cker?”

The man went on to describe my f*cked up values and then told me to f*ck off before he went back to work on his lawn.

As I sulked away I realized that I had indeed crossed the street when I reached his lawn. No wonder he got pissed off. I had walked up to his lawn, took a 90 degree turn, crossed the street, and then crossed back when I passed his house.
What the guy didn’t know: I was f*cked out of my mind. A musician friend of mine was staying with me and had introduced me to some super powerful Willie weed and his fresh supply of Psilocybin – (Magic Mushrooms). I was tripping balls. There was an unusual water sprinkler in the yard across the street. At the time, I had it in my mind that that sprinkler was, in fact, a monkey. The thin black hose retreating from the sprinkler was a rope that kept that monkey in the yard. You can’t pass up a lawn monkey. I had pulled my dog in tight because I didn’t want her to get bit. When I saw that the monkey was a sprinkler I walked back across the street, embarrassed from the mistake.

Looking back on it, I can’t blame the guy. He came from the ‘don’t trust whitey’ school of thought. His racism radar didn’t have to be fully operational to interpret my behavior as something unusual.

Be careful what you look for; that’s who you are

If you’re looking for racism, it’s out there. It’s not difficult to find. If you believe that whitey is looking to hurt you, that’s what you’ll find. If you are a cracker barrel, Billy-Bob redneck, and you spend your time hating African Americans, I have little doubt you will be able to find some black guy acting the fool or breaking the law, justifying your hate. If you hate homosexuals it’s not difficult to find a gay guy doing something outrageous; justification achieved.

Conversely,

Just because you’re black doesn’t mean you can’t be an asshole. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t be a jerk. Being white doesn’t automatically mean you’re a rich asshole. – most of the time. You don’t have to be black to be livin’ like a slave. You just have to be poor.

Racism today is more like the racism from R. Lee Ermey as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in the movie Full Metal Jacket.

Sergeant Hartman: “There is no racial bigotry here. We do not look down on niggers, kikes, wop or greasers, because here you are all equally worthless. Do you understand?”

Racism has been downgraded to hate and relegated to a wide open swath. It’s less about racism and more about hate.

And we all know that hate for hate sake is just stupid. He hates those cans!

>Con Games and Jesus

>

So here’s how it works. I am the captain of the airplane. First class tickets are a grand a piece but once you own those seats you get to sell other first class tickets, keeping $500 for yourself and paying your captain $500. You sell two seats behind you and you’ve already broken even. When the people you’ve sold those seats to go on to sell seats of their own, you get a forth of their sales – $250 – and your captain gets $250. You receive even more money when those people go on to sell seats of their own. Your cut rises dramatically if you go on to sell more $1000 first class seats. As more and more passengers fill our plane your financial security will be assured. Do the math yourself. Within just a few generations we can all be millionaires on Tommy’s plane ride to wealth.

Flim-flam men, hucksters, con men, grifters, thimbleriggers, and preachers, it’s one of my favorite subjects. If you like Confidence games, check out my blog entry:

http://fluffer-union.blogspot.com/2007/11/good-con-man-is-not-hard-to-find.html

Senator Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) is probing six ministries led by Paula White, Joyce Meyer, Creflo Dollar, Eddie Long, Kenneth Copeland, and Benny Hinn.

Oh, Benny, Benny, Benny, what have you done now? Grassley’s finance committee has demanded their financial records and none of these ministries have yet to produce anything to the committee.

Pam’s House Blend picked up the story. . .
http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=4256

This story has everything. I love this story. It has tweaked my schadenfreuden guru. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Once the committee has these financial records they become public. I plan on getting my own copy.

My guess is that the ministries are not afraid of breaking the tax law, but they are scared to death that their own congregations may find out where the money is going.

It’s been reported that Benny Hinn has:

A $10-million, 7,000 sq. ft. home, $112,000 per month for a private jet, a couple of $80,000 cars, luxury hotel rooms that are 5,400 sq. ft. at $10,800 per night for a “layover.” At least Hinn is generous with his tips, which totaled over $4,500 during a recent three-day period. A salary of half a million to a million dollars per year–plus book royalties.

According to: http://blog.kir.com/archives/003639.asp

I’d like you to disregard my opening pitch. Instead:

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Pope of Austin. And yes, I talk to God on a regular basis.

For this month only, I am offering half price on all Indulgences. How can you pass that up? Everlasting redemption for just three easy payments of $29.95, complete with a signed document from the Pope of Austin himself that you can give to God to show him how you have paid for your sins. But hold on. There’s more. Not only do you get everlasting salvation, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness. Big hitter the Lama.

Con Games and Jesus

So here’s how it works. I am the captain of the airplane. First class tickets are a grand a piece but once you own those seats you get to sell other first class tickets, keeping $500 for yourself and paying your captain $500. You sell two seats behind you and you’ve already broken even. When the people you’ve sold those seats to go on to sell seats of their own, you get a forth of their sales – $250 – and your captain gets $250. You receive even more money when those people go on to sell seats of their own. Your cut rises dramatically if you go on to sell more $1000 first class seats. As more and more passengers fill our plane your financial security will be assured. Do the math yourself. Within just a few generations we can all be millionaires on Tommy’s plane ride to wealth.

Flim-flam men, hucksters, con men, grifters, thimbleriggers, and preachers, it’s one of my favorite subjects. If you like Confidence games, check out my blog entry:

http://fluffer-union.blogspot.com/2007/11/good-con-man-is-not-hard-to-find.html

Senator Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) is probing six ministries led by Paula White, Joyce Meyer, Creflo Dollar, Eddie Long, Kenneth Copeland, and Benny Hinn.

Oh, Benny, Benny, Benny, what have you done now? Grassley’s finance committee has demanded their financial records and none of these ministries have yet to produce anything to the committee.

Pam’s House Blend picked up the story. . .
http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=4256

This story has everything. I love this story. It has tweaked my schadenfreuden guru. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Once the committee has these financial records they become public. I plan on getting my own copy.

My guess is that the ministries are not afraid of breaking the tax law, but they are scared to death that their own congregations may find out where the money is going.

It’s been reported that Benny Hinn has:

A $10-million, 7,000 sq. ft. home, $112,000 per month for a private jet, a couple of $80,000 cars, luxury hotel rooms that are 5,400 sq. ft. at $10,800 per night for a “layover.” At least Hinn is generous with his tips, which totaled over $4,500 during a recent three-day period. A salary of half a million to a million dollars per year–plus book royalties.

According to: http://blog.kir.com/archives/003639.asp

I’d like you to disregard my opening pitch. Instead:

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Pope of Austin. And yes, I talk to God on a regular basis.

For this month only, I am offering half price on all Indulgences. How can you pass that up? Everlasting redemption for just three easy payments of $29.95, complete with a signed document from the Pope of Austin himself that you can give to God to show him how you have paid for your sins. But hold on. There’s more. Not only do you get everlasting salvation, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness. Big hitter the Lama.

>Time Travel is possible

>It’s official. I am a time traveler. I have actually traveled thru time. How do you travel thru time? Have a colonoscopy like I did last Wednesday.

I was talking to the nurse. The doctor walks in and the nurse said, “The doctor is here. I’m administering the drug.” (I’m guessing the proceedings were being video taped.) I chatted with the doctor briefly. I told him I was glad to see he was in an upbeat mood. I said something like, ‘I’d hate to be in this position if you just had a knock down drag out fight with your wife.’ He laughed and then Bam! I was sitting in the recovery area intently listening to my doctor who was talking to my girlfriend. What?

No time passed. None at all. No fade to black. No, ‘count down from a hundred and fall asleep.’ No falling asleep. No waking up. I was in the operating room, one second, and in the recovery room the next. Time travel.

To be precise, I traveled one hour into the future. Which I guess means I will be caught up next daylight savings time.

The Drug War

Let me make this perfectly clear, before this experience I was firmly against the drug war. I was of the opinion that prohibition of drugs fuels the underground economy, criminal enterprises, and terrorists. It’s basically a public health issue and we’re using our criminal justice system to handle it. If that wasn’t enough, this failed policy is costing us a fortune.

I’m not against prohibition any more. There are two drugs that MUST be controlled. They are called Sentanyl and Versed – the time travel drugs. These two drugs must never fall into the hands of criminals. If they were available on the open market it could destroy humanity.

Even now I’m Jonesin’ for a fix. Well, actually, I just want my own supply so I could use it during the worst parts of my life. And they’ve had these drugs for years!?!!! Why didn’t anyone tell me?

During my six hour “Thanksgiving From Hell” at my uncle Edward’s house, I could of been unconscious! I’m remembering post apocalyptic two day hangover that nearly killed me on new years day 2000. I could of been unconscious! During my infamous blind date with Becky Lasko I could of been unconscious! I would of loved to have been ‘lights-out’ during dinner. She wouldn’t of noticed.

And that’s why everyone else will want these drugs if word gets out. Are you a passenger on a long car trip with a boring asshole? Sentanyl and Versed to the rescue. Are you and hour away from the front of the line at the DMV? Time for the time travel drug.

I want these drugs controlled but I want my own supply of Sentanyl and Versed and I want it now. Wake me up when we get to the good part.

Time Travel is possible

It’s official. I am a time traveler. I have actually traveled thru time. How do you travel thru time? Have a colonoscopy like I did last Wednesday.

I was talking to the nurse. The doctor walks in and the nurse said, “The doctor is here. I’m administering the drug.” (I’m guessing the proceedings were being video taped.) I chatted with the doctor briefly. I told him I was glad to see he was in an upbeat mood. I said something like, ‘I’d hate to be in this position if you just had a knock down drag out fight with your wife.’ He laughed and then Bam! I was sitting in the recovery area intently listening to my doctor who was talking to my girlfriend. What?

No time passed. None at all. No fade to black. No, ‘count down from a hundred and fall asleep.’ No falling asleep. No waking up. I was in the operating room, one second, and in the recovery room the next. Time travel.

To be precise, I traveled one hour into the future. Which I guess means I will be caught up next daylight savings time.

The Drug War

Let me this perfectly clear, before this experience I was firmly against the drug war. I was of the opinion that prohibition of drugs fuels the underground economy, criminal enterprises, and terrorists. It’s basically a public health issue and we’re using our criminal justice system to handle it. If that wasn’t enough, this failed policy is costing us a fortune.

I’m not against prohibition any more. There are two drugs that MUST be controlled. They are called Sentanyl and Versed – the time travel drugs. These two drugs must never fall into the hands of criminals. If they were available on the open market it could destroy humanity.

Even now I’m Jonesin’ for a fix. Well, actually, I just want my own supply so I could use it during the worst parts of my life. And they’ve had these drugs for years!?!!! Why didn’t anyone tell me?

During my six hour “Thanksgiving From Hell” at my uncle Edward’s house, I could of been unconscious! I’m remembering post apocalyptic two day hangover that nearly killed me on new years day 2000. I could of been unconscious! During my infamous blind date with Becky Lasko I could of been unconscious! I would of loved to have been ‘lights-out’ during dinner. She wouldn’t of noticed.

And that’s why everyone else will want these drugs if word gets out. Are you a passenger on a long car trip with a boring asshole? Sentanyl and Versed to the rescue. Are you and hour away from the front of the line at the DMV? Time for the time travel drug.

I want these drugs controlled but I want my own supply of Sentanyl and Versed and I want it now. Wake me up when we get to the good part.