Things that Don't Go Together, Ch. 13

Devo's "Whip it" and Kendrick Lamar's " Swimming Pools (Drank)"

Ok, so word on the street is that I'm not much of rap fan.   I've asked around and confirmed that this is indeed the case.

But this whole "Swimming Pools" song keeps reverberating.  What does this 2012 rap song from a denizen of South Central have to do with a bunch of 1980s Kent State art school geeks whipping it?

I think its all the in the chorus of the imperatives.   Compare the directives given by Mr. Lamar's internal narrator:

Pour up drank, head shot drank
Sit down drank, stand up drank
Pass out drank, wake up drank
Faded drank, faded drank

With those from Mr. Casale, the author of the Devo lyrics:

Shape it up
Get straight
Go forward
Move ahead
Try to detect it
(It's not too late)
To whip it
Whip it good.

The "Swimming Pool" chorus reflects the dehumanized alcohol infused world of the rap star whose life is compressed into simple directives:  wake up, drink, stand up, pass out etc.  The song has two high points:   The chorus' ending instruction "Faded" is not only a metaphor the dissipation of the protagonists life, but the music also fades, symbolizing the fading potential of the rap star continuing on alcohol paved path.   Groovy.

Even more groovy is the feeble attempt of the super ego (labeled the "conscience") to propel the young Kendrick on a more wholesome path:


Okay, now open your mind up and listen to me, Kendrick
I'm your conscience, if you do not hear me
Then you will be history, Kendrick
I know that you're nauseous right now
And I'm hopin' to lead you to victory, Kendrick
If I take another one down
I'ma drown in some poison abusin' my limit
I think that I'm feelin' the vibe
I see the love in her eyes, I see the feelin'
The freedom is granted as soon as the damage of vodka arrive
This how you capitalize
This is parental advice
Then apparently, I'm over influenced by what you are doin'
I thought I was doin' the most then someone said to me

Still, the shrill voice of the conscience, like that of Kendrick's mother, is no match for the swimming pool filled with beer.   In the end, I see Kendrick faded, literally and figuratively.


Devo's emasculated protagonist is similarly reduced to following robotic directives.  I don't get the sense there is any alcohol involved.  This is Devo after all.  These dudes stay at home on saturday night and make fun of the joko homos who cruise the streets after the football games picking up cheerleaders.   After graduation Devo denizens bemoan their long commutes in traffic jams in their silicon valley jobs.   I think I'd personally prefer the swimming pool.   To begin with, there are more chicks.   Its all about the chicks, right?  Maybe there is some good Imperial Stout in that swimming pool.  

Devo has no mother and no conscience.  Instead of the shrill mother telling Kendrick he needs to change his evil ways, all Devo has is an empty platitude.  When that problem comes along, you must whip it.  Like a caricature of a Dale Carnegie course they learned in a weekend seminar.   How to win friends, influence people, over come all problems is 7 easy steps.  You can whip it!

Its a blizzard out there today.   Yesterday was 3rd at trivia, followed by homespun and old rasputin.  Lucy and Linus playing christmas time on piano.  Studio 360

The Open Microphone, Ch. 3

I.  Madame Bovaries' Ovaries

The ardor aroused in men from women can only be satisfied from God.
The ardor aroused in women from men can only be satisfied.

A haze of frustration clung like that small piece of shit that refuses to be wiped.

The worst were drunk and loud.   The could not keep their pants on.  
The best were not the best according to the most.  They sat and stared at their Apple Pie drinks.  No one was running the ship.   Not even the dude with the mohawk.

If you can't stand the noise, get out of the kitchen.
Outside it was raining.

Why are we here here anyway?  Is it really because my little corner of the universe is an illusion?

This little corner of the universe is a stinky man cave.

II.  Gustave Flaubert's derriere

Now we are aboard the SS Minnow

Ahoy Captain Marvin!

I sail!

With electric fans we propel over the seven seas.

We toss our gold fish into receptacles filled with rum.

If we hit the one on the right, we drink the rum.

The one on the left is the captain's. 

Why is the captain all wet?  Is this a wet tshirt contest?

And how did that mouse come aboard?

Shiver me timbers! Hoist the mainsail!  Its a world premier!

According to His Ex-Wife, Craig R. Would Make a Great Freddie Mercury Impersonator

The Springfield Radiological, Urological, and Gynecological Associates

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December 7, 2012 at the Prairie Capitol Convention Center

honoring....

The World's Hottest Freddie Mercury Impersonators

                                                                               

                                                                                           featuring...

                                                                  From Brazil:

                                                       Los Fredious Mercuramous



                                               Memphis' Most Memorable Lounge Act:                

                                                                  Elvis Mercury 



                                                        Las Vegas' Terrible Twosome:

                                                           Siegfried & Freddie


                                                    
                                                     Mr. Conservative (and Friends):

                                                        The Freddie Mercury Trio


                    And Last But Certainly Not Least:

Michael Jackson Mercury

Tickets available in advance at Metrotix, Paypal

and wherever Mammograms are preformed

A Wink Martindale Production.

A Byte out of the Apple, Ch. 2

I awoke the next morning to discover that much to my chagrin, my iPhone had been surgically implanted in my body.

Ira Glass of "This American Life" kept following me around asking for money:  "Mr. Pseudopumpkin, our records indicate that you have been accessing our content at a rate of 4Ggbt/week for the past 5 years and still have not contributed to NPR and our show.  If you don't contribute now, we are going to take further action."

"Siri,"  I thought, "delete `This American Life app.'"

""I'm sorry Mr. Pseudopumpkin," she retorted.  "But according to section XXII(a)(4)(x) of your software license, functionality of this app is the within the exclusive control of the network administrator and you have relinquished all rights to alter same."

My facebook message screen lighted up.   Ira was posting graphs illustrating my usage of NPR content versus my donations on my profile page:

"Siri, unfriend Ira Glass," I thought.  "I'm sorry Mr. Pseudopumpkin," she retorted.  "But according to section XXIV(a)(2)(g) of your software license, the copyright of your friend list is the within the exclusive control of the network administrator and you have relinquished all rights to alter the same."

"Then get me out of here, Siri"

My red hovercraft appeared next to me.  The driver side door opened.  I stepped in.

"Siri, take me to Sangamon river station."

"Now playing `Take me to the River.'"

Al Green and David Bryne appeared and started signing:

"All the trouble that you put me through
Take my money, my cigarettes
I haven't seen the worst of it yet
I wanna know, can you'll tell me? "

"No, drive me to the river, Siri.   Cancel ITunes program."

My hovercar whisked away with dizzying speed.

IRA continued to follow me.   There was a GPS chip embedded in my IPhone.  Evasion would be difficult.  I wanted to break his horn rim glasses and wipe that geeky smile off his face. 

Give a Little Bit of Your Blood to Me, Ch. 2

The appearance of the Red Cross on a battlefield or other occasion of calamity or disaster is usually welcomed with the perception that whole blood is being distributed to those in need.

What is not generally known, except among vampires, is that it is on these occasions that blood is actually collected in earnest.  This is because whenever humanity experiences trauma or strife, the hemocrit or percentage of red blood cells in its blood skyrockets.  Hemocrit means everything to the vampire, it is the difference between drinking blood that tastes like fine wine as opposed to garbage.   In the past, vampires were able to collect blood after scaring the shit out of their victims and then proceeding to suck the blood out of pulsating artery.  Collecting blood in this "old fashioned way" carried with it a number of risks, most notably being detection by humans.   By receiving blood though the Red Cross, vampires have been able to keep their existence more or less secret from mortals.

Speaking of secrecy, Penelope was having a more and more difficult time keeping her secret from Herman.  Covering her face during sex was only the beginning.   Herman was a day person and though Penelope caked herself in sun screen, she could not avoid the natural aversion that vampires have to daytime.  Penelope altered her work schedule so that she would work only at night.  The couple often found time together in the afternoon after Herman woke from his siesta, and Penelope, from her interrupted sleep which normally would have extended to the evening.   It was during this "after siesta" time that the couple often had sex, which kept an otherwise difficult relationship in tact.  At least in the beginning.

Problems began in earnest when Herman altered his sexual routine.   Frustrated with the fact that the pillow was preventing any contact with his lover's face, Herman sought to increase their intimacy through scrupulous attention to other parts of Penelope's body.   Which worked for awhile.  Eventually, Herman became frustrated that his scrupulous attentions were not reciprocated.  Penelope still clung to her pillow.  To do otherwise would have permitted her to bite off more than she could proverbially chew.   Herman began to wonder if Penelope was less adventurous in bed that he might of otherwise hoped.  If he only knew...

Give a Little Bit of Your Blood to Me, Ch. 1

Over 50 percent of blood donated to the Red Cross goes to vampires.

Why else would they call it the Red "Cross"?

If you investigate the list of donor companies to the Red Cross you will find that a single anonymous corporate benefactor is responsible for over 70 percent of their monetary donations world wide. 

That anonymous benefactor is the largest manufacturer of sun screens and sun tan lotions in the world.   The sun screens this company creates provide unparalleled protection from the sun.   So much so that vampires using the sun screen for the first time in history can appear in daylight.  Vampires, of course, use a special blend that is not readily available to the general public.   The rest of us get a watered down version.   I know this because Herman Ortega y Gasset used work for the company before his untimely death.  That is where he fell in love with a vampire.  Her name was Penelope.

Herman worked in the sales department at the company.  Penelope in shipping.   When they first met, they were ensnared in an immediate and palpable attraction.   For many months Penelope kept Herman at arms length.   For vampires, taking on a human lover is frowned upon.   Better to just get it over with.  But Penelope did not want to condemn Herman to a life of the undead.   But passions usually get the best of even the most resolute, and eventually at a company Christmas party Penelope found herself agreeing to accompany Herman to a bar and later to Herman's house.

Herman, of course, did not know Penelope was a vampire.  The existence of vampires has never been proven despite Hollywood's attempts to the contrary.  Had he known she was a vampire, it probably would not have made any difference as the two hurriedly removed their clothing and discarded them on his bed.  Penelope demonstrated slightly more restraint.  She dimly perceived that during their impending love making that she may lose control to the point where she might inadvertently bite or nibble on Herman's exposed carotid or other blood vessels which may present themselves to her.  If this occurred and the slightest blood was exposed, it would be all for Herman, who would be quickly devoured in Penelope's frenzy.

So Penelope did the only sensible thing.  Before Herman entered her, she grabbed the nearest  pillow and placed it over her face as a shield between her teeth and her lover's flesh.

(ok, so i'm still not over this cold.  which sucks.   watching some cruz movies:-))

From Another Dimension, Ch. 8; Skinny Knees, Ch. 5

The Constantins are a bunch of sleaze balls.   I was able to intercept one of their operational manuals for seducing earthlings.  You would be amazed at the stuff they try.   I can see this crap working with the TeoCohens of Goatar XI, because those creatures are desperate.  But can you imaging anyone actually falling for this?  Look:

Operational Manual for Seducing Earthlings:  Part XII  (Text Messaging)

"To fully comprehend this situation, you have to understand what you’re up against. Earthlings nowadays give out their phone numbers away like candy. There are multiple reasons for this. For one, it’s the path of least resistance. Think about it: the quickest way to get a guy or a women off your case is to give him or her your number, comfortably extricate yourself from the situation, and then just ignore them. Earthlings avoid confrontation and awkwardness at all costs. But that only explains a situation where they don’t like the entity.   What about when he or she showed clear signs of attraction?  This is where you must take advantage of the situation."

 "Twenty first century Earth is filled with endless distractions. The deadly combination of Facebook, ever-shrinking attention-spans, and the inherent nature of Earthlings conspire to create a situation where you will not be able to achieve your objectives.  What’s more, Earthlings are forgetful. She could have fantasized about being impregnated by you the night she met you, but within an hour she forgot about that because she got a text from some other guy. This is a double-edged sword that can work to your advantage as much as it can hurt you, as we shall see."

"So what do you do when an Earthling doesn’t reply to your text?Well first, let’s cover what you shouldn’t do. First off, resist the temptation of chasing down your text with a follow-up because you think, “they obviously didn’t get it.” They got it.  The Earthling is glued to their phone 24/7, and they are reading and replying to texts constantly. The odds that the ether swallowed up your text before it got to their iPhone 5 is infinitesimal. Get that out of your head. Secondly, don’t go to the other extreme and do what a lot of experienced Constantins mistakenly do: immediately delete their number and write them off. Remember: effectively texting Earthlings requires a Provencia-like patience that is counter-intuitive to our hunting nature. Just chill."

"A certain percentage of the time just forgetting about your text is enough. Earthlings can reply, literally, days later. But a lot of the time that doesn’t happen. That’s where the re-start text comes in.  The restart text is basically simple text volley that aims at resurrecting a conversation that’s gone cold. It can work at any stage in your interaction with an Earthling: when all you have is the phone number; when you’ve gone out once but did not achieve impregnation, etc.  The important precursor is that you fully allow the conversation to actually go cold.  It is recommended that a  restart text is not sent sooner than 10 days after the last communication. The goal of the restart text is to re-spark the intrigue the Earthling presumably felt for you at some point. That’s all. This is where the Earthling's forgetfulness works to your advantage. By the time you come around a second time, the Earthling has likely forgotten about some stupid thing you said that made them stop contacting you in the first place. Often it’s just as simple as catching an Earthling when they are more amenable to impregnation.  

-- The Two Different Types of Restart Texts

The restart text is an art that you have to customize to your own style and to each situation, but these are some basic techniques to get you started. Create your own text following these approaches:

1. The Mistaken Identity. This is probably the oldest, and most transparent, approach. Earthlings, especially the smarter ones, can sometimes see right through this one—even though that doesn’t mean it won’t work. After all, it’s all about cognitive dissonance. The important part is to make it clear that it wasn’t intended for them. It’s also nice to embed some juicy bait that the Earthling cannot resist.

Example: “sorry I’m running late, homie. got into argument with andy’s ugly sister. u were right about her!”

2. The Non Sequitur. This is basically a random, brief particle that will sufficiently stir an Earthling's nosy instinct into inquiring further. Don’t make it creepy or gratuitously weird. The key is to wedge yourself into that nosy part of an Earthling's brain that makes eavesdropping, celebrity gossip, and “mysterious” Constantin in the room irresistible to them.

Example: “it was $20.”

If the Earthling responds, you should follow that up with something like “oops, wrong person.”, adding a juicy tid-bit to have her respond a second time, like “wait, who’s this?” Once you re-activate the conversation, don’t make the mistake of bringing up your prior interaction or immediately revealing your identity or intentions (to plan a date). Also, don’t text endlessly with the Earthling. Dangle the carrot for a while—leaving gaps of different lengths between texts—get them interested, and plan to “meet up.” Keep it simple.

A lot of the time, the restart text won’t work. But it should definitely be part of your arsenal. You’ll be delightfully surprised when you re-capture a seemingly lost prospect with this simple, nearly effortless, technique.

The girl and the goat.  Teo trumps the trojan on the goose island stout.  The psudeo pumpkin becomes ill after a short leg of jake.  The new office turns things around.  The routine is changed.  What must be done?

.

The Music Lover, Ch. 15

So I arrived at my office and was surprised to see Umphrey's McGee waiting for me.  They asked if they could hang out with me for awhile because they had a concert upstairs later in the evening.  I didn't mind.  It was actually pretty cool.   But I wondered how they found my office.   We just moved to a new location last week.  I remember giving them my card the last time I saw them--but that was for a different address.

So I started taking pictures of Umphrey's McGee in my office and then posting them on Facebook.   It was so cool.  Everyone dug the photos.   It was like "hey everybody, look I'm with Umphrey's McGee and isn't it neat they are in my office?"  I thought of asking them to take some pictures of me with some of the band members, but I decided not to because I didn't want to appear like I was that big of a fan.

So for the next several hours I was hanging out with Umphrey's Mcgee.   We went into my garage and they were playing around with feedback from their guitars.   I thought the feedback kinda sounded like the feedback in the Gang of Four song called "Anthrax."  You know the one with the bass line that goes like " Ba ba ba ba bum ba ba ba ba."    So I started humming "Ba ba ba ba bum ba ba ba ba."  And Umphrey's McGee said, "hey what's that, it sounds pretty bitching."  And I said, "Siri, play some Gang of Four, Anthrax.   And she did.  And the Umphrey's people started jamming to it.  And they said, "wow, that's cool, we'll have to play it tonight.   So they did.

And that is the story of how Umphrey's McGee played a cover of a Gang of Four song at one of their concerts.

You would have thought that was the end of the story.  But it wasn't.  After the concert one of the Umphrey's dudes kept hinting that they didn't have a place to crash because their tour bus broke down or their toilet was broken or something like that.  So I let them stay with me, which was fine.  However, I found out later that they drank all the Ketel One Vodka that I had stored in my freezer.   But they are rock stars so I guess that they were entitled to it.   I never hassled them about it.

But twenty years later, on July 10, 2011, I was in bar and I remembered that those Umphey's McGee guys drank all my vodka that long time ago.     And on that day, I started writing a blog about it.  It was called Tatoo You, Ch. 1:-).

(in tubac, on the plane, with the irish ranked number one for the first time in ages)

Some of the President's Men, Ch. 1

I was watching a basketball game on the sidelines.

President Obama, wearing sunglasses and wind breaker appeared in front of me and asked me to come with him.

I replied, "Yes sir, Mr. President."   I hesitated slightly because I was unsure of how to address the President.

I followed him down the stairs at the side of the court.   We passed a number of security checkpoints and he finally entered a room with a metal door.   He asked me to wait outside.   I could see the inside of the room contained two obese african american security guards who were motioning me to stay outside.

I thought it was good that the President was guarded by two black man as if that would ensure their loyalty to him.

After a time, President Obama reappeared.

"There is a situation developing in Mexico," he told me.   He was speaking softly, so I wasn't sure exactly what he said, but I didn't want to ask him to repeat.   What I understood is that someone had tried to either fly a plane or drive a truck loaded with explosives into a Chrysler plant in Mexico.  The plot failed because the plane or truck exploded before it reached its destination.  Because of the attack, the factory was going to close.

President Obama looked at me as if he was expecting me to add something to the situation.  I thought of saying something about how the closing of the factory could be spun into a situation where it meant more jobs for American workers and how the President could take advantage of that.  But instead, I blurted out:  "They are next going to attack ExxonMobil's Beaumont refinery."

"How do they intend to accomplish that?" the President asked.

"They have hijacked the tanker  Dominguez which is currently inbound and will reach the port at 0930 tommorrow.   The tanker is crewed by 17 Mujahadeen mercenaries led by Gulbuddin Hekmatyar.  They possess three W-88 chinese nuclear warheads."

"Thank you," the President said, motioning to one of his guards.   "We will take care of that."

The President looked at me as if he was expecting me to say something more.   Finally, he smiled.   "Don't worry, I know this must be a little disconcerting for you, but it looks like we have a new receiver for the Venentian signals."   He smiled at me broadly.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

Bolshoi milliki.

Friend of the Devil, Ch. 7

Satan carefully placed the Scorpion on my thumb so that its stinger was directly above my thumbnail.

I held my breath and tried desparately not to move.   Each time I shifted my weight or made any movement, the scorpion's legs dug into me like pins.

The scorpion kept trying to sting me,  but each time its stinger reflected off my thumbnail.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I had to move.   When I did, I knew the scorpion would crawl down my hand freeing its stinger to find unprotected flesh.

I noticed there was a small chip in my front incisor.  I kept working the rough edge of the chip with my tongue.  Eventually what I thought was only a small crack expanded and the whole front section of my teeth separated from my gums.

I looked at myself in the mirror and was greeted by a hideous toothless hairless wrinkled face.   I tried to speak but could not make a sound through my gums.

I was in the office of a dentist.   This was the same dentist my parents had avoided selecting for my bridge work when I was a teenager.

The dentist remarked that he had never seen a case like mine, but he had talked to one of his colleagues and was willing to try to reattach my teeth.  I knew that I should try to leave.  This guy did not know what he was doing.  But I was already strapped into the chair.

The dentist placed the plaster in my teeth to make the mold, and I almost wretched.  It was like eating plaster.  His hygenist kept packing gauze in my mouth.   I couldn't breath.   I began to suffocate.

One of Brigham Young's wives, Ch. 1

Editors Note:   Brigham Young was perhaps the most famous polygamist of the early Latter Day Saint movement, marrying a total of 55 wives.  By the time of his death, Young had 57 children by 16 of his wives.

The following diary allegedly written by Brigham Young's wife number 23 was recently discovered in an abandoned mine shaft near Park City, Utah.  Any similarities here with actual historical characters or events is highly unlikely.  In fact, what follows is completely made up and there is not a word of truth to anything that follows.  Even though this is alleged to be a diary from one of Brigham Young's wives, I can assure you that it is not such a diary.  It is most assuredly a hoax.   The premise that is is an actual diary of one of Brigham Young's wives or that it was found in an abandoned mine shaft is simply untrue.

Day 1:  We are now in Utah, but I don't see much change in the face of the land for the better; but I can't see much, as I have been quite sick for six or seven days.  I pray that the Lord has blessed me after my last congregation with Brig eight fortnights ago.   Crossed Green River Sunday evening with the help of Brother Edwards and Mendenhall, it is a beautiful stream of water, and plenty of trees on its banks.  Stopped at a station where our men were required to take the oath of allegiance to the United States government, our wagons were searched for gun powder, etc.

Day 2:  A stage passed with two of our missionaries, Brother Detmer and one of the Brigham Young Jrs..  Me hast difficulty distinguishing one from the next.  Arrived at Fort Bridger, a nice place, with a good and substantial building.  The days are warm, the nights cold.  Very cold.  Colder than...prehayps me better not sayeth it.    Last evening we bought some onions and potatoes, which were quite a treat. They did us good, as we were getting the canker bad, from so long a diet of salt pork, but I trust our journey is nearly over. The earth at this place is of a reddish color, and the mountains look somewhat greener than they have for some time.

Day 3:  Passed through some mountains in a round about way, they look solemn in their grandeur; rising one above another, and their verdure of many colored hues and rocks of various shades looked beautiful to me; if I had the materials I should paint some of them.  Nothing better to do, unless providence intervene.  

Day 4:   Passed through Echo Canyon. The scenery is beautiful to behold, such rocks I never saw. Saw a few houses and potato patches, also a mail station which looks comfortable. I think from the appearance of things, Uncle McMahon feeds his men and animals pretty well. I feel weak today, prehaps the sickness of the morning is upon me.    Camped near the town of Weber. Came over a narrow road on the side of a mountain. It looked dangerous. Came to W. Ainge's Ranch, he is rich in cattle and sheep.

Day 5:   Rained last night for the first time since we left the Platte River. I hope it has laid the dust. I think it is the fourth rain we have had on our journey so far. Camped at a station in dust enough to smother one.

Day 6:  Arrived in Salt Lake City on Emigration Square.  My heart was saddened with the death of my aunt Mary.   She was the parent of ten children.   Her husband with glorious blessings sired another 38 with other wives.  Surely blessed.  (the rest of this page of the diary is not legible).

Leave it to a Beaver, Ch. 2

Scene 4:  Back in the kitchen at 485 Maple Drive.  (Note: insert teleprompter under all actors speaking to the Beaver to ensure audience can read the subtext of what the actors are saying to Beaver).

Beaver:  Gee Wally, ever since Florence touched my forehead, everything seems so different.   I mean I can still hear people talk, but I can also now see words underneath what they are saying.   Like on a television screen.   And most of the words I don't understand, but those that I do really frighten me.  Its like they are telling me one thing, but the words underneath tell me they really mean something else.

Wally:   I told you that girls are nothing but trouble.  But in a couple of years, you'll go to high school, and then you'll go to college and meet a whole bunch of girls. You'll probably marry one. Then you'll have a whole bunch of kids and a job and everything.

Wally (subtext):  What a dumbass I have for a brother.  Why do I have to always hang around him anyway?  As soon as my mother and father go in the bedroom to get it on, I'm going over to Violet Rutherford's house.  Maybe she'll put out if I can get some weed.   I wonder if Eddy was able to score that quarter he talked about last week? 

Ward:  Listen to your brother son.  Its true that you might not think much of girls now, but eventually you will marry one. 

Ward (subtext):   I wonder if Florence is as hot as her mother?   Martha was freaking awesome in the sack.   Why I ever ended up with  June instead of her sister is beyond me.   I'm a fucking idiot.

June:   Ward, what is Florence doing to our baby? … She's got him following her around. She's just not the right type for him.  Theodore should have a very sensible girl from a nice family. One with both feet on the ground that can cook and keep a nice house and see that he's happy.

June (subtext):  My sister Martha is a total slut!  And I'm sure that her adopted daughter Florence is no different.  Still, had she been able to steal Ward away from me like she planned, I might not have minded.  Maybe I never really did give Pedro a decent shot. 


Commercial Break

(the queen gets black, i get a gay inlaw, hayley gets a girlfriend, sandy gets new york, brigham gets 20 wives, and the polish guy gets ukranian)

Friend of the Devil, Ch. 6

I was back at work at a different job.

It was in a small room in a trailer.  There were only two outside windows: one in the front and the other in the rear of the trailer.   The trailer also had a basement.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do.   I was with two other older women who seemed to be waiting for something.  They were sitting on a couch looking out the front window of the trailer.   It was dark outside and nothing was visible. 

I went to the kitchen to get something to drink.  When I returned the women were still seated but outside was glowing with light.   In the distance, I could see a mushroom cloud from the explosion of an atom bomb.

I was not concerned.   It was part of my job to watch the blast.   On second glance the blast looked even nearer than it first appeared.   I could see the streaming purple tendrils from the underside of the cloud reach the ground and spark.

I went downstairs.   Satan was sleeping with a pregnant women on the bed.   I knew she was awake.   I could see by the stain on the bed that her water had broke.   Her face grimaced in pain. 

I wanted to get her to a hospital but she refused.   In a whispered hush she told me that she did not want to move because she did not want to wake up Satan.  She told me to leave. 

In the rear window of the basement, I saw another mushroom cloud in the distance.   This one was dark red.

Back upstairs, the horizon from the front window lit up with atomic bomb flashes like electric flowers.   I went the window at the back of the trailer and there were dozens of bomb flashes.  I knew we were the only people who survived the blasts.  It was peaceful and quiet.

A Byte out of the Apple, Ch. 1

Hey look at this cool smart phone thing in my hand.   Its does so many things.   Its just plain awesome.   I wonder what its going to morph into next?  What the Samsung  Galaxy 10000 phone will be like in the future.   It would be rad if they used nanotechnology and had the thing embedded in my brain so that I could access it with a thought.  I wouldn't have to access the cloud.   I would be the cloud!   I would be the network.  Long live the network!

But whatever innovation occurs, it sure ain't going to come from here in the good olde Midwestern U.S..   That's fer dang sure.  Because we are not riding the wave of the future like our counterparts in Asia in so many ways.   And I'm not just talking about K-Pop.

South Korea has the highest per capita broadband penetration in the world.   Over half its homes have broadband access compared to only ten percent in the United States.  By 2015 South Korea will replace all of its paper textbooks with electronic tablets in public schools by 2015. 

Not only does South Korea have broadband in most homes but if you venture in its shopping malls, down its alleys, or up its office stairs there are almost 30,000 shops with online game rooms or PC baangs as they are called--and that's just Seoul alone.  These gaming rooms are the new internet mediated combination of pool hall, bar, or front porch of the entire culture.  Singles are video chatting in these game rooms all over the city.  More importantly, PC baangs support a massive online gaming community which is the national sport.    Five million people (the equivalent of 30 million in the United States) play "Starcraft" alone.   Three cable stations broadcast full time competitive gaming to the TV audience.  

And Steve Jobs is dead.  And don't get me wrong.  He created the smart phone.   And yes if I were on the jury in the patent infringement lawsuit in the Apple v. Samsung case, I prolly would have ruled in his favor.   Samsung copied the smart phone as surely as K-Pop would not exist without its historical antecedents in U.S. rock, funk, rap, dub, or whatever else its a hybrid of.  But i'm not talking about the past.  Who is going to come up with the next cool thing, someone sitting in an isolated cubicle in Cupertino or some kid in Korea whose had a network embedded in every aspect of his life since birth?   And don't even get started on China.  I wouldn't even know where to begin when they get fully plugged into the network. 

wow, nd 8-0 after oklahoma, the whirles cook cookes, and the brother in law reveals a surprise....

From Another Dimension, Ch. 7; Skinny Knees, Ch. 4

Being immortal cannot be understood by mortals.

Mortals are involved in planning a life.

Planning a life is an exercise in story making.   Living people are forever writing narratives of their own lives, deciding who to be and what to do, according to various aesthetic criteria.

For mortals, death is seen as an interruption in the business of life, cutting short life-stories before they are, in the eyes of their auto-biographical authors, complete.

Immortals have no such limitation.  We have the opportunity to plan whole lives, deciding exactly when and how our life stories should reach a climax and conclusion.

My two best friends were immortal.   Well sort of.  They killed themselves.  Which is not an easy thing to do for a Kushat.   But my friends were always contrarians.   Even more so than me.    Suicide among us involves a great deal of forgetting our own immortality.   Which is hard to forget, trust me.   However, there had always been a history of suicide among the emortal Kusat.   Indeed, suicide has been the commonest cause of death among the Kusat, outnumbering accidental deaths by a factor of three.  Which is crazy but it just goes to show you that even a race as advanced as we are still has our share of forgetfulness.      

Historically when a Kusat committed suicide,  they tended to choose a violent means of death, and usually issued invitations as well as choosing their moments so that large crowds can gather.  It was the polite thing to do.    Jumping from tall buildings and burning to death were the most favored means in the beginning, but these quickly ceased to be interesting.   A premium was then put on increasingly bizarre methods in the interests of capturing attention and outdoing their predecessors.

Not so my friends.   I received no invitation.   And the actual mechanism of their suicide will likely never be discovered.  I often fantasize that they are even today living in some dimension where the climate is warm, the fermented beverage is cold, and the ocean rhythms pulsate throughout space and time.  And they have not forgotten what they are.

In the year 2525
If man is still alive
If woman can survive
They may find

In the year 3535
Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies
Everything you think, do, and say
Is in the pill you took today

In the year 4545
Ain't gonna need your teeth, won't need your eyes
You won't find a thing chew
Nobody's gonna look at you

Cole Potential, Ch. 4

In 8345 B.C., a meteorite landed in Carpathia, west of the Don river.   It was sought by an extra terrestrial entity called the Double Helix Entity (DHE), who wanted to use the special powers of the meteorite to rule the galaxy. To that end, it sent its agent, Dung Below Me, to capture the meteorite.  However, a local herdsman found the meteor.   The herdsman resisted Dung and a brief melee ensued.   Using advanced alien technology which in retrospect was unnecessary against the herdsman, a violent explosion occurred fracturing the meteor, and a large part of the meteor (called the Krofstone) became embedded in the herdsman's chest.  The explosion also killed the herdsman's family.    Because of the gem in his chest, the herdsman became immortal, and he later changed his name to Cockdilla.  Cockdilla vowed revenge on Deng Below Me for killing his family.

Using the power of the meteor fragment, Cockdilla became one of the most successful mercenaries in the world. His long life allowed him to assemble a vast fortune, which he used to set up a series of outposts, fully staffed and equipped, in various corners of the world. He gained mastery of most of the world's weaponry, and a large portion of the world's martial arts and languages.
Over the next 10,000 years, Cockdilla would travel all over the world, looking for Deng Below Me. As a result, by the 20th century he had become immensely wealthy, and could speak most of the world's languages. In his hunt for Deng Below Me, he became proficient with most of the world's weaponry. Because of Deng Below Me's ability to summon monsters with alien technology, Cockdilla gained a reputation as a monster hunter.

Sometime in the 1930s, Cockdilla battled Nosferatu and his clan of vampires. In 1933, he gained a sidekick: Fat Cobra, who later became one of the Immortal Weapons.  He embarked on a series of adventures with him that took them to the far corners of the globe, traveling to the Savage Land and Monster Island and fighting Mole People and Fin Fang Foom. In the 1950s, Cockdilla  battled the giant undersea humanoid monster Goram while seeking another Krofstone fragment.  Cockdilla  then met Deng Below Me on the astral plane.

Cockdilla's vendetta against Deng Below Me ended when the truth came out: the DHE had needed a host, and had chosen Bloodstone. As Bloodstone and Deng Below Me fought,  DHE assembled a group called "The Conspiracy" to reassemble the meteor and gain control of Cockdilla.  Cockdilla battled the Conspiracy, but they defeated him. The life-sustaining gem fragment was surgically removed from his chest by Conspiracy member Dr. Boltuc. The Conspiracy thought they would become immortal, but DHE killed them to reassemble the gem.  However, Cockdilla's reanimated body managed to kill Deng Below Me  and prevent the DHE from coming to Earth by vanquishing the Deng Below Me on the astral plane. Cockdilla's body then withered and died.
However, his skeleton was later revealed to be in the possession of the American Museum of Natural History.  Deng Below Me was later revealed to have survived, and possessed the corpse of the first Baron Zemo, which disappeared down an inactive volcano in Japan.

The namesake of Cockdilla later restored an obscure Bavarian town named Frankencastle.  Daily tours are available M-F, 9:00 am-4:00 pm.   Saturday by appointment only. 

Friend of the Devil, Ch. 5

I awoke back in the mall in front of the restaurant.

It appeared all the businesses had closed long ago.  Even the "For Lease" signs on the store fronts showed signs of age.

This was the same mall I visited when I was a child.   It seemed so immense back then.   I remember my Jewish friend telling me that something evil was in the boys restroom and that it would do  unimaginably bad things to the little boys who entered without their parents.  I never chanced it. 

I looked down at a faded newspaper on a bench which showed a photograph of Satan shaking hands with Alderman Abousse.  The headline read "Entrepreneur to Open Headquarters at Local Mall."   Satan was given the key to the City.  Something about tax breaks and bringing back jobs. 

Satan's office was in what used to be a Sears department store.  There was a reception going at the front of the office.   I could hear the laughter and see people mingling inside behind the tinted glass.    The sounds of a jazz quartet echoed down the length of the otherwise deserted mall. 

I walked to the entrance of the office and heard a phone ring.  The sound was coming from a public phone booth.   I stepped inside and answered the phone.  At first all I heard were rhythmic computer tones, ascending it pitch.   Then I heard the screams.  Thousands of screams all at once. I dropped the receiver.  My body flushed in a chill and I pissed myself.  I felt the warm dark stain on my crotch.

I was inside the office.  No one seemed to notice me even with the stain on my leg.   I was excited that I was crashing the party.   A nondescript person in a suit asked me what department I was with.   I replied "psychoneural engineering."  That seemed to satisfy her.  We talked about what schools we attended.  She was a sports fan.   Finally, she started looking past me at the other guests.  I asked her if I could get her a drink.   I looked for a bottle on the waiter's tray that was not opened yet.  I drank and I drank.   Nothing better than free wine.

I noticed a group standing around a television.   A baseball game was being televised.   I acted like I cared about the game.  I faked knowledge about the players stats.   I cheered when they did.  I don't remember which team won.

When the game ended, the crowd quieted for the evening presentation.   I saw a small podium being set up at the front of the room.   Next to the podium was a sign which stated that tonight's speaker would highlight advances in "mind control through tonal resonance in next generation social networking."

I was behind the podium.   I knew that it was my turn to speak.  I looked out over the audience.   They were waiting for me to speak.  I knew that I didn't know anything about the subject matter.  But I started speaking anyway.   The audience seemed to be satisfied even though I really wasn't saying anything.

The nondescript woman came up to me after I was finished.   I was in a hotel room with her.   We were sprawled out on the bed.   Her thigh was warm.  I was hard.

The phone rang on the side of the bed.  I answered it.   Once again, I could hear the computer tones.   I looked back and the woman was gone.   I looked outside the window.   Jupiter appeared large on the horizon and moved quickly across the sky like a huge comet.   It was all wrong.  This could not be happening. 

Mokabee's urban eats winston marsalis, running up grand street and not seeing someone I once had an acquantance with.  

Leave it to a Beaver, Ch. 1

Scene 1:  In the kitchen at 485 Maple Drive

Ward: Say, Wally about this trip tomorrow. Now, you mother’s not very sold on it to begin with, so no horsing around.   Here is some money for the train ride.   And take especially good care of the Beaver, huh?

Wally: Well sure, Dad. I’ll take good care of the Beaver. He’s not just my brother, he’s a pretty good kid, too.

Beaver:  Gee thanks Wally.  But I can take care of myself.   By the way, I was kinda wondering, are there any Indians where Aunt Martha lives?

Ward:  You don't have to worry about that son.   Wally will be on the train with you all the way there.  Aunt Martha and your cousin Florence will prevent you from being scalped by any Indians once you get there.

Beaver:  But Dad, we won't need any help from a girl. 

Wally:  Boy Beaver, wait till the guys find out you were hanging around with a girl. They’ll really give you the business. (canned laughter)

Commercial Break

Scene 2:  At the train station

Beaver:  Gee Wally, maybe we shouldna eaten all that candy.   I'm not feeling to good.

Wally:  When Dad finds out we spent all the money for train tickets on candy bars we are going to be in big trouble.

Beaver:  How we going to get to Aunt Martha's now?

Wally:  Don't worry Beaver, I've got a plan.  I've heard that at these train stations, there are some people who carry around bags of money.  We just need to find someone who can give us money for the train tickets.

(Enter Kind Man wearing fedora)

Kind Man wearing fedora:  Hey kids, I couldn't help overhearing about your problem.   I must tell you that you should limit your intake of sweets between meals.   Eating more than one candy bar at a time is definitely not good for your health.  Don't you feel all crummy now?

Wally:  You are right sir, we learned our lesson.  

Beaver:  Gee wally, that man is right.  I'm never eating candy again.

Kind Man wearing fedora:  Good.   Well, I hope this helps (handing Wally and Beaver money for the train tickets).   And don't forget, don't talk to strangers.

Wally:  We won't sir.

Commercial Break.

Scene 3:  At Aunt Martha's house.

(Enter Florence)

Beaver:  Florence, I'll be nice to you and all.  But please don't tell my friends that I was hanging around with a girl or they will give me the business.

Florence:  Don't worry Beaver.   It will be our little secret.    Let me tell you another secret.  None of this is real.

Beaver:  Gee Florence, what do you mean by that?

Florence:  You are living in a world that does not exist.   All of it is fake, your family, your house, your town.

Beaver:  Like its kinda like a fairly tale that you read in a book?

Florence:  Exactly.  Here let me show you.  (touches Beaver on the forehead).

Beaver:  (face lights up) Gee Whiz, I had no idea.

Commercial break. 

Friend of the Devil, Ch. 4

I was at a family dinner that never happened at my Aunt's house in Salt Lake City.

My aunt had advanced stage Alzheimer's.   She recently tried to kill herself and was now living in a round the clock assisted care facility.

But at the dinner she was running around, serving everyone, trying to keep everyone happy.

There were many more people at the dinner than usual.

All my cousins were there with all of their spouses and all of their children.   And probably all of their children's children.

This was Utah, of course

and I had long lost count of the number of remarriages involving my relatives.

There were so many people at the dinner that I didn't recognize or had never met that I don't remember seeing my cousins there. 

These people were all relatives of my mother.  

I told my father that it was good that the family was together.  

He looked at me uncomfortably--like a Catholic who had lived in Utah most of his life.

After dinner, Satan met me at the stairway leading to the basement.

We walked down and the basement opened up into an indoor shopping mall.

Satan pointed to a restaurant in the mall with a large glass facade.

"I heard the food there isn't too good," Satan remarked.

I've already eaten.

"In that case, follow me to the back of the restaurant, I have something to show you."

Satan led me to an elevator in the back next to a fountain.

The fountain was shooting water high into the air.

The noise was deafening.

Though Satan was trying to speak to me, I could not hear him until we were in the elevator.

"I think you'll find our next stop to be more to your liking.   For a man of your expanded sensibilities."

The elevator doors opened revealing a crowded hall with doors stretching left and right in both directions like a hotel floor.

There were multitudes of families congregating in the hall..  Many were seated in circles outside the room doors playing music with children playing all around them.  The air was fetid.   I had the impression they all were immigrants.  Like gypsies or some ethnic group of Eastern or Southern Europe. 

"Its such a close knit community," said Satan, "I'm sure you would like it here--better than your isolated life, to be sure.   But I want you to meet one of my friends."

He led me to a doorway at the end of the hall that opened into a balcony.

My friend L was out on the balcony with a group of people listening to music.   A man wearing a bear costume was handing out what looked like stamp books.

"Stanley," said Satan, speaking to the man in the bear suit, "There is someone here I want you to meet."

"Groovy, I'm always looking for fresh meat," exclaimed the bear man.

The bear had given L several of the stamp books and she was beginning to lick one of them.

"She's trying my new flavor called `Cuttlefish.'   Its way tubular.  Wanna try some?"

I was frantically trying to stop L from licking the stamps.  But it was too late.  My hand accidentally grabbed onto one of the stamps when I tried to wrestle them from L. 

Satan stepped in front of me blocking me from L.  

"Its too late for her, can't you tell? She likes the fish."

L's eyes went glassy and her smile became serene.

"Its also too late for you my friend."

I looked down at my hand that had touched the stamps and saw that a redness was starting to spread up my arm.

The balcony around me began to spin.

"Its much too late for you my friend."

Friend of the Devil, Ch. 3

"Here try this," said Satan, handing me a jar of salsa.   "Its one of my favorites."

It tastes like shit, I said.  

"That's because it is shit.   Look at the label,"  said Satan.  "Its Grateful Dead salsa.   Those old fucks would allow their name to be used by anyone to make a fast buck.  That's why I like them so much.   That and the fact that they encouraged drug use during the Reagan Era.  Otherwise, those were pretty lean times for the good of the order."

Fuck you.  I said. 

I had been lost in the mountains looking for a camping space in the caves.  I was with two other people.  We hadn't had any food for days.   Eventually we came to a row of condos that looked deserted.   One of the doors was empty.   I entered the condo.

"Come in," said Satan. "But tell you friends they will have to wait."

They aren't my friends, I exclaimed.

"I know," said Satan.  "But it makes no difference.  They are gone now.  Do you even remember their names?

No.

I drove to Oakland last night in my beatup car.  I parked for the night in front of a homeless shelter.  I went out to the car in the morning and the car window was broken and everything inside had been stolen.

Satan walks up to the car.

"Here try this," said Satan, handing me a book.

"The Puppet and the Dwarf, by Slavoj Zizek ."

What the hell is this?

"Exactly," said Satan,

"Its a dirty little secret, but this Slovenian Zizek almost gets it.   One must be an atheist to be a true Christian.  The death of Christ on the Cross is the death of God as God. "

Why are you telling me all this?

"Because I want you to see clearly what is really going on around you.   I need to invert your perspective to accomplish this.   You want to be enlightened, don't you?  Try not looking at me as the bad guy.   Actually, I'm at the center and foundation of Christian ethics.  My fall and punishment without any trial is the Christian myth that allows what Christians consider evil to exist in the world while absolving God of any wrongdoing.   More importantly, I am the secret hero of Christianity.  I am the role model who started everything.  I was the first to have the courage to stand up to God and stand falsely accused.   I was the first to make the bold claim of individual autonomy which is the bedrock of cherished Western values of freedom and democracy.  I am the original inspiration of every revolutionary who had the balls to speak up against tyranny and injustice and to make the ultimate sacrifice for it."

It doesn't look like you have sacrificed anything, asshole.

"More than you could ever know.   Consider this:

If then his Providence, Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labour must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil.

And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I do, yet public reason just Honour and empire with revenge enlarg’d, By conqu’ring this new world, compels me now To do, what else (though damn’d) I should abhor."
 

Fuck you.

"Its much to late for that."

 

 

Womb Envy

Man always up to something.

Always a story going on with man.

Woman different.

Unless woman in divorce.   Then woman in bad mood.  Then woman tell lots of stories.

Man constantly in divorce.

Whether man married or not.

Man never happy.

Not so woman.

Man listen to Army commercials:

"Be all that you can be"

Man enlist.  Man go off and do things.  Fix things.  Blow up things.

Not so woman. 

Woman happy where she is.

Unless there is some man.

Telling her that she can't do something.

Then woman enlist.

Then woman go off and do things. Blow up things.   But not as many civilian casualties with woman.

And when things get blown up, woman accept refugees.  After all they don't have a home.

Its only fair.

Man don't care if its fair. 

Unless man trying to impress woman.  Then man give appearance of being fair.

Man succumb to temptation.  

Man care about ego over responsibility.

Man never really happy.

Man never where he is.

Man always missing something.

And its not a rib.

Someday Man become obsolete.

Coda:  Merkel and Putin.   According to Der Spiegel, Angel Merkel, one divorced now remarried is horribly afraid of dogs.  "When Putin and Merkel meet, they sometimes speak in German (he’s better in her language than she is in his), and Putin corrects his own interpreter to let Merkel know that nothing is lost on him. Putin’s brand of macho elicits in Merkel a kind of scientific empathy. In 2007, during discussions about energy supplies at the Russian President’s residence in Sochi, Putin summoned his black Lab, Koni, into the room where he and Merkel were seated. As the dog approached and sniffed her, Merkel froze, visibly frightened. She’d been bitten once, in 1995, and her fear of dogs couldn’t have escaped Putin, who sat back and enjoyed the moment, legs spread wide. “I’m sure it will behave itself,” he said. Merkel had the presence of mind to reply, in Russian, “It doesn’t eat journalists, after all.” The German press corps was furious on her behalf—“ready to hit Putin,” according to a reporter who was present. Later, Merkel interpreted Putin’s behavior. “I understand why he has to do this—to prove he’s a man,” she told a group of reporters. “He’s afraid of his own weakness. Russia has nothing, no successful politics or economy. All they have is this.”"

Cole Potential, Ch. 3

Very Good Padewan, most people don't understand the subtle distinction between the goal of world domination and actual world domination.

Use the force you must to achieve total world domination.   All other endeavors--futile they are.

To achieve actual world domination, you must first infiltrate an environmental studies department at a small Midwestern university acting as a student.  You must establish an initial base of operations outside of Havana, Cuba...I mean Havana, Illinois.

Then, you must propagate propaganda to recruit other initiates to the force.   To accomplish this, you must create a power point presentation meticulously describing the aforementioned attributes of the force.

Finally, and most importantly, you must harvest as much sploosh as soon as possible.  The unique neurochemical properties of sploosh make it possible for the skilled practitioner of the force to exert his or her will remotely across space and time.   Imagine the possibilities!   Sploosh can be extracted in two ways.  First,

 What you need:

2 cups water

2 cups sugar

3 cinnamon sticks

2 teaspoons whole cloves

4 pounds fresh peaches (about 10 - 12 medium size - don't get them too ripe or they'll be mushy)
   
Then put the extract in mason jars and let stand for 150 years in the desert heat.

However, Padewan, because time is of the essence, we recommend extracting sploosh in the old fashioned way.  This can be achieved by securing the victim in the manner described in Hypothetical Inventions Chapter 2 (dated February 17, 2012).   Then, after hypergargalesthesia is achieved, position a small cup or receptacle under the victim's mouth to harvest the drool which will be produced after the tickleectomy procedure is complete.

So what are you waiting for?  Get out of the hole you are in and find some sploosh!

Sometimes a Cigar is only a Cigar, Ch. 1

Psychoanalyzing Cat Stevens:

--On tolerance, specifically in relation to Rushdie's "Satanic Verses."   The following is an excerpt from the BBC television program moderated by Geoffrey Robertson.  Cat Stevens is now Yusuf Islam:

Robertson: You don't think that this man deserves to die?
Y. Islam: Who, Salman Rushdie?
Robertson: Yes.
Y. Islam: Yes, yes.
Robertson: And do you have a duty to be his executioner?
Y. Islam: Uh, no, not necessarily, unless we were in an Islamic state and I was ordered by a judge or by the authority to carry out such an act - perhaps, yes.
[Some minutes later, Robertson on the subject of a protest where an effigy of the author is to be burned]
Robertson: Would you be part of that protest, Yusuf Islam, would you go to a demonstration where you knew that an effigy was going to be burned?
Y. Islam: I would have hoped that it'd be the real thing.

The New York Times also reported this statement from the program: [If Rushdie turned up at my doorstep looking for help] I might ring somebody who might do more damage to him than he would like. I'd try to phone the Ayatollah Khomeini and tell him exactly where this man is.

 Yusuf later asserted that while he regretted the comments, he was joking and that the show was improperly edited.  In the years since these comments, he has repeatedly denied ever calling for the death of Rushdie or supporting the fatwa.

--On relationships with women:

" Oh baby baby it's a wild world,
It's hard to get by just upon a smile.
Oh baby baby it's a wild world.

I'll always remember you like a child, girl.
You know I've seen a lot of what the world can do,
And it's breaking my heart in two,
Cause I never want to see you sad girl,
Don't be a bad girl,
But if you want to leave take good care,
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there,
But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware,
Beware,

Oh baby baby it's a wild world,
It's hard to get by just upon a smile
Oh baby baby it's a wild world,
And I'll always remember you like a child, girl."

Ellen Willis, the rock critic of the New Yorker, thinks that " 'Wild World' betrays a condescending, sexist viewpoint." Reverse the roles, she says, and "It's hard to imagine a woman sadly warning her ex-lover that he's too innocent for the big bad world out there."  I couldn't agree more.  Cat Stevens supposedly wrote this song while breaking up with actress Patti D'Arbanville.

In a 1979 interview, Steven's denies the charge stating that ""I was trying to relate to my life. I was at the point where it was beginning to happen and I was myself going into the world. I'd done my career before, and I was sort of warning myself to be careful this time around, because it was happening. It was not me writing about somebody specific, although other people may have informed the song, but it was more about me. It's talking about losing touch with home and reality - home especially."

Not buying it.   Since when are you "like a child, girl," Cat?  If you need further proof, check out the lyrics of Stevens' 1970 tune, Lady d'Arbanville:

"My Lady d'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill.

My Lady d'Arbanville why does it grieve me so?
But your heart seems so silent.
Why do you breathe so low, why do you breathe so low,

My Lady d'Arbanville why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill.

My Lady d'Arbanville, you look so cold tonight.
Your lips feel like winter,
Your skin has turned to white, your skin has turned to white.

My Lady d'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill.

La la la la la....

My Lady d'Arbanville why do you grieve me so?
But your heart seems so silent.
Why do you breathe so low, why do you breathe so low,

I loved you my lady, though in your grave you lie,
I'll always be with you
This rose will never die, this rose will never die.

I loved you my lady, though in your grave you lie,
I'll always be with you
This rose will never die, this rose will never die."

This song is just plain "creepy".

--On the relationship with his father:

"Son
How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.
It's always been the same, same old story.
From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.

Father
It's not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You're still young, that's your fault,
There's so much you have to go through.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.
(Son-- Away Away Away, I know I have to
Make this decision alone - no)
Son
All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,
It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them They know not me.
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go. "


Responding to the interviewer from Disc, he said, "I’ve never really understood my father, but he always let me do whatever I wanted—he let me go. ‘Father And Son’ is for those people who can’t break loose."

Maybe, but it still smacks me as a patient going to see a shrink asking for help for "his friend", who has this problem....  You can only write about what you know, even if you make shit up:-)