Have A Nice Year!

Yeah, probably not. But we don't know that for sure yet.

Stop staring at my tits

 

Unless you can play shortstop. Then we can talk.

On Disbelief and Synchronicity

 On Nov. 3, I sat down with MrM around 10pm to start watching the televised election returns. We stayed with FOX as Florida and Ohio were called for Trump, and began alternating between FOX, CNN and NEWSMAX after FOX's early call of AZ for Biden.  At that point in time, Trump was still trending ahead of Biden in Michigan. On the visual models presented, Kent County, which houses the city of Grand Rapids (a traditionally Republican stronghold where Trump held his final rally of the campaign with thousands braving the cold to attend) was showing up red and the county situated above and to the left of Kent (a traditionally blue Democrat leaning county with a large African American community) was also showing up red, along with most of the rest of Michigan,  including a equally surprising number of counties in and around the Detroit area.  

After MrM went to sleep at midnight with the belief that Trump was in the lead,  I continued to watch into the small hours of the morning with a growing sense of confusion and disbelief forming.  I saw the mystifying slowdown in counting and reporting take place, and watched the Trump lead suddenly vanish to the point where, at 4am, Kent County unexpectedly flipped blue for the first time in fifty six years!  I wondered how that could be possible and when I finally went to sleep just before sunrise, it was with the belief that  something unusual and untoward seemed to have taken place with Biden receiving just enough votes in MI  to overcome the lead Trump had been holding.  I spent the next few days (and weeks!) in a state of surprise and disbelief, unable to reconcile what I’d seen with what I knew from lived experience to be true regarding the values, work ethic, commitments and voting history of a city/county/community that had consistently voted Republican since 1964. 

Though it took me a while to figure out from online reading what the reporting delay was about, and how the inexplicable turn around I’d witnessed in one particularly strong Republican county may have been managed,  the greater question of how to handle the disbelief I was carrying and what perspective to take going forward, left me stumped.   

I decided to stop watching cable news and focus on the “chop wood and carry water” aspect of daily life. To address the sense of incongruity, confusion and overwhelm I was feeling I began drawing mandalas during the time I'd previously devoted to listening to and watching the news; and I started with white colored pencil on black paper (using the Light in the Dark technique spelled out in Judith Cornell's books) adding more color to later work.  Over time I was able to piece together an awareness and understanding of what may have happened and what I experienced that made sense to me. And I began praying for a “return to balance” for myself and all involved.  

On Nov 15,  just prior to Trooper York’s post on old man Coyote as Trickster, I read about and ordered a book that sounded intriguing called The Trickster's Hat: A Mischievous Apprenticeship in Creativity  by Nick Bantock (author of the Griffin and Sabine Series).

On Nov 19, I responded to TY’s post with the following comment/quote regarding the role Trickster plays: Trickster alternately scandalizes, disgusts, amuses, disrupts, chastises, and humiliates (or is humiliated by) the animal-like proto-people of pre-history, yet he is also a creative force transforming their world, sometimes in bizarre and outrageous ways, with his instinctive energies and cunning. Eternally scavenging for food, he represents the most basic instincts, but in other narratives, he is also the father of the Indian people and a potent conductor of spiritual forces in the form of sacred dreams. 

On Nov 20, SixtyGrit’s post on the sculptor/author Bill Reid, and the bad ass Raven Who Steals the Light, provided another example of the connection between tricksters and the creative force. 

On Nov 23, The Trickster’s Hat arrived, and I opened it to find this as the first exercise: “Draw a 2” x 2” square.  Inside the square, draw as many animals as you can in five minutes. Now draw a second 2” x 2” square, but leave one of the four sides open.  Then draw as many animals as you can escaping out of the square. Again, you have five minutes.   Hint: this is not about drawing skills.  It’s about doing something relatively lighthearted that gets you moving.  But mostly it’s to remind yourself that you need to enjoy what you’re doing”.

After following those instructions and letting the all the animals out, I went on to draw and fill several additional boxes, filling one with  money and another with ballots before letting it all loose with the ballots following the money.  And for the first time since the election, I felt a momentary sense of lightness and fun return, strong enough for me to marvel, first at the power of the creative force in the midst of disbelief, and secondly at the presence of tricksters and synchronicity to encourage, reinforce and invite me forward into whatever the future (and year ahead) might hold.  

Merry Christmas

 Merry Christmas to everyone who posts here and most of all to everyone who reads and comments. 

God bless you and your families. 

Rules Is Rules

 

A friend of mine took this picture several years ago while on a road trip, somewhere in the Southwest. No doubt they've added a “Mask Required” sign by now.

My Dinner with Andre the Giant

Andre: I just don't think I feel the need for anything more than all this, whereas, you know, you seem to be saying that it's inconceivable that anybody could be having a meaningful life today, and, you know, everyone is totally destroyed, and we all need to live in these outposts; but you know, I can't believe---even for you. Don't you find it pleasant just to get up in the morning?

Professor: I disagree. I never had a meaningful life. In fact my life has been and continues to be a waste. Nothing I have ever done has ever had a positive effect on anything in the world.

Andre: I think you are too hard on yourself. What about all the lonely Jeffrey Tubin types who correspond with you? Surely that means something.

Professor: Don't call me Shirley. And none of it means anything.

Andre: Is there anything I can do to make you feel better.

Professor; Well yes ....there is...can you body slam me?

Andre: I think that be arranged.

The Babe Abides

 "Time to go on the field Babe."

"Be whicha in a minute keed. I just want to sit a minute."

"No problem Babe. The fans are waiting is all. Everybody loves you."

"I know keed I know. That's the problem. That's always been the problem."

Stop Staring at my Tits

 

"Sorry you are not feeling well Kahn. Is there anything I could do to help?"
"If I was looking for that I would call Kildare. He is the fruit. Plus you are too old."
"Look just because there is snow on the roof doesn't mean there ain't a fire in the furnace."
"You know what I want Doctor."
"What's that Kahn?'
"KKKKKKKIIIIIIIRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Okey dokey."
"And stop staring at my tits."

Please start staring at my tits

 

"I just don't understand."
"What don't you understand  Robin. These are my tits. You are a red blooded teenage boy. You are supposed to stare at them."
"But Batman says I should only stare straight ahead when we climbing up a building with our Bat ropes. Otherwise it is not polite."
"He just wants you to stare at his ass. Don't you get it. He's a fanoik."
"What?"
"Never mind. I am going to give the Penguin a call. That little freak is always horny."

Edutcher Western Theater

 

"Why did you ask me out Marshal? I thought you were a homo?"
"No that's Doc Holliday. He likes gladiator movies. I swing both ways. I am an acrobat."
"Well that's nice but you can put me down now."
"But I like to show off my muscles carrying you around like this."
"That's fine but I want to walk on my own two feet. And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"Stop staring at my tits.

My Dinner with Andre the Giant

Andre: What does it do to us, Professor, living in an environment where something as massive as the seasons or winter or cold, don't in any way affect us? I mean, we're animals after all. I mean... what does that mean? I think that means that instead of living under the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars, we're living in a fantasy world of our own making.

Professor: Yeah, but I mean, I would never give up my electric blanket, Andre. I mean, because Wisconsin is cold in the winter. I mean, our apartment is cold! It's a difficult environment. I mean, our life is tough enough as it is. I'm not looking for ways to get rid of a few things that provide relief and comfort. I mean, on the contrary, I'm looking for more comfort because the world is very abrasive. I mean, I'm trying to protect myself because, really, there's these abrasive beatings to be avoided everywhere you look!

Andre: But, Professor, don't you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable and I like to be comfortable too, but comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility.

Professor: I agree that's why I married a gardener. That is as uncomfortable as you can get. The smell alone.

 

My favorite Carol

"When you get to the cutoff.....cut off your Slawson."

"Oooh that sounds painful."

"Shut up and stick out your tits."

"Ok I can do that."

"Don't be a wiseass."

 

My Favorite Carol

This one goes back half a millennium. It's been sung in Gothic cathedrals and country churches. These days it's a favorite with Bluegrass groups. There are many, many different versions, but always at the heart is this story:

Joseph and Mary walked through an orchard green
They saw berries and saw cherries fair to be seen
As Joseph and Mary walked in the wood
They saw cherries and berries red as any blood

Oh, then bespoke Mary so meek and so mild
"Pluck me one cherry for I am with child"
Oh, then bespoke Joseph with words unkind
"Let him pluck thee a cherry that brought thee with child"

Oh, then bespoke the babe within his mother's womb
"Bow down you tall tree and give my mother some"
Then bowed down the cherry tree to his mother's hand
Then she cried "See, Joseph, I have cherries at command"

A wonderful little story, barely a hundred words. Always embedded in standard doctrinal lessons, no doubt to allay any misgivings the parish priest or minister might have, but a nice, funny little story about human nature. A joke, in fact.

Its scant three verses are full of humorous tropes. Not refined humor, either, but earthy, farm-and-village stuff:

• The old man who marries a young wife
• Pregnant women with odd food cravings
• “Cherry” as slang for virginity
• The jealous husband who thinks he's been cuckolded
• And that old favorite, “Be careful what you wish for . . .”

Nor is the story itself particularly refined:

• Mary picks the breeziest, most flippant way to tell Joseph the news: “Get me a cherry, honey – I'm pregnant.”
• Joseph replies with sharp sarcasm: “Whoever got you pregnant can get you your damn cherry.”
• Jesus thinks, “Whoa, dude – that's how you talk to my mother? Watch this!”
• God, no doubt chuckling in His beard, delivers the punchline.
• And Mary can't resist a last little dig: “Oh, look, Joseph – cherries!”

So every character in the story, including God, is a wise-ass. Which means that every character in the story, including God, is acting distinctly human.

And there's your Christmas Message.

I knew there was a reasonable explantion!

When I was a kid my dad had to work extra jobs to support us. One of them was in Brownsville deep in the heart of Jungleland. We would take the GG train to the Flushing Avenue stop. When you got outside it was like you were in postwar Germany or something. Like Dresden without the schnitzel.  We had to walk about three blocks to Broadway to a furniture store where this old Jewish guy would rip off the moolies by making them buy stereos on lay away. My dad did the accounting. Anyhoo the only reason we were able to go there was because Pfizer had a plant there. You see they put the chemical plant in a bad neighborhood because what the fuck were they going to do about. Oh the smell. Man it was the worst thing I ever smelled times ten. Think Elizabeth New Jersey. Rotten eggs. Hillary's twat. It would make you gag as you walked. The only thing is they had armed guards with German Shepard's patrolling the perimeter. They would often walk us to the store. They were good guys. But the smell!

Now these guys are making to covid vaccine.

Hard pasadena on that one boys.