Je Sais Que Le Vin, the Podcast

Good evening, my name is Henri, and I will be your sommelier for this evening.  Tonight, we shall be consuming wine with our special guest from the Nameless Podcast, the Nameless One.  Bonjour, Madame Nameless.

Nameless:  Sidekick, you are ridiculous, stop acting like you are French with that fake accent.  What do you know about wine anyway?

Henri:  Tsk Tsk, please Nameless, try some of this.  You will find this to be a lush and full expression of the Grenache grape packed with mouth watering sumptuousness and hints of bramble, tobacco, baby fat, and currant/black berry compote with raspberry flourishes.  It pairs well with our dinner tonight of beef testicles and spleen of lamb calf.   It is ideal for any occasion or mood from the winter melancholia to manic depression.  Drink it now, for the next 50 years, or it the first decade of your afterlife.

Nameless:  This tastes like piss.  Where did you get it?

Henri:  It is not important.  Let me return with something more to your liking.  Perhaps a nice Merlot?  This one is guaranteed to get any suburban housewife intoxicated.  It pairs well with 100 calorie Nabisco snack packs of any variety.  It is made by the renown vineyard Chateau de Downton Abbey.

Nameless:  Really, Sidekick?   I'm about ready to souffle your nuts and feed them to you.

Henri:  Perhaps you will find this enjoyable?   This is for that special occasion which you lack the blood of your sworn enemy.  It is a deep blood red shiraz.  It is appropriate for any occasion, especially ancient death rituals.  Dip your sword into this as a substitute for blood, and make your offering to the demon.   Even Satan will be fooled by the dark and leathery tannin's involved.  It pairs well with Orc flesh and Goblin entrails.  It is best served with a dish of revenge.

Nameless:  Now this is more to my liking.  Sidekick, bring me numerous glasses of this concoction.

Henri: As a final offering, I offer you something indigenous to this geographic region we call home.

Nameless:  There is no good wine in Illinois.

Henri:  That is not the point, the point is, I am under an obligation to shop locally.

Nameless:  But I am under no obligation to drink locally.

Henri:  Then I will drink this myself.  It is from a area previously know for its corn and soybeans.  Its terroir is rich with years of Round Up and other Monsanto Fungicides.  It pairs well with long bicycle rides and stiff winds. In fact, after you consume it, you begin to experience stiff winds with which you must excuse your dinner guests.

Nameless:  A good idea Sidekick, you are excused from this ridiculousness.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I Will Never Do Again During the March 2016 Sesshin

ALL OF THE BELOW ALLEGEDLY OCCURRED DURING DOKUSAN:

Teacher:  Who is dong Zazen?

Student:   What you said yesterday during the Dharma talk "Zazen doing Zazen doing Zazen."  

Teacher:  That's a concept.  Show me who does Zazen.  

Student:   It's like my mind is too tired to do anything.  After sitting Zazen for a couple of days it can't do anything more. It stops.  There is no separation between anything.  Even the concept of separation fades.  Only immediacy.  Only now which is not now.  Only solidity.  One big undifferentiated chunk.  Mountains and rivers dong Zazen.  

Teacher:  Show me your original face before your parents were born. 

Student:  (silence)

Teacher:   Silence is fine.  Who is silent?   

Student:  It is me, Henri.   I am not really French, but I will now address you with this ridiculous French accent.   I will be your sommelier for this evening.   Tonight for you culinary enjoymant, (deliberately misspelled to reflect the heavy fake accent), we will be serving you roast duck confit (mispronounced Comfeeet) with arugula, broccoli and truffles.  For your drinking enjoyment, I will present to you, from the vineyards of Espana, Sola Fred, which presents with a lush bouquet on the palette especially if you are a coquette.

Teacher:  Who is it trying to be funny?

Student:  Ain't nobody but me.  Gonna lie for you, gonna die for you.   Ain't no fish in the sea...etc. etc.  

Teacher:  Who is it quoting old Supertramp lyrics to me?

Student:  So sorry (now speaking in Indian accept).  Tis me, Hari Krishna calling you from a Bombay.

Teacher: (rings the bell signaling the end of dokusan)

Student:  are you telling me not to hang around and learn what life's about?

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the March Sesshin in 2016

Here's the joke: there are a group of people in a chartered plane.   The joke unfolds in the typical manner.  The pilot makes an announcement over the intercom that the plane will crash unless they jettison some of the passengers on-board.  So who goes?   Well sitting in one aisle are the unlikely combination of St. Louis' own Beatle Bob and Elvis Costello.  Elvis wastes no time in grabbing Beatle Bob and throwing him out the emergency exit.   I was able to catch a bit of their exchange:

Elvis:  I don't know who you are, but I'm throwing you out again, just like I threw you off the stage of Bonaroo in 2011.
Beatle:  Elvis, I'm a big fan of your music.
Elvis:  Guided by Voices may like the way you dance, and make a video of you, but you are not my kind of soldier.  Good bye you bloody wanker!
Beatle:  (descending through the clouds):  "I've got bulldog skin."

While this was going on, the passengers in the next row are also discussing, as the Clash so aptly wrote all those years ago, who should stay and who should go.  One of these gentleman, lets just call him X is an aspiring patent attorney.  The other, a noted hedonist, earlier in the evening consumed way way too much tequila watching this concert

and exploring this pleasure den:




The hedonist was drunkenly informing lawyer X that all lawyers were useless and society was better off without them.  Lawyer X agreed with this statement in principle, but suggested that since he was studying to be a patent lawyer that this made him exempt from that general principle.   A scuffle ensued, and the hedonist pushed the lawyer out the emergency exit.  However, in the process, in his inebriated state, the hedonist tripped and also fell out the window.  Problem solved.

That leads us to the passengers in the next row.  One was a neuroscientist, the other a zen monk.  Earlier in the evening, I caught a bit of their discussion which I will recreate for you to the best of my recollection:.

Zen monk:  When is a bulls-eye not a bulls-eye?

Scientist:  When it misses the mark.

Zen monk:  The state of the bulls-eye and no bulls-eye have no distinction in objective reality.  Its all one.

Scientist:  True, my friend, because both science and Buddhism are both about an understanding of the lack of subjectivity, writ large, I believe we should collaborate on future projects.

Zen monk:  Indeed, my friend, though there is no difference between you, me, lawyer X and the hedonist, and those two musicians, I believe we will more skillfully handle the emergency that has apparently arisen than they.

Scientist:  I could not agree with you more.  Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Zen monk:  Indeed my brother.  Let us make haste to that compartment in the aft section of the place which states: "In case of emergency use parachutes inside."

And with that, the compatriots donned the parachutes and jumped out of the plane.

That leaves us now with the lone passenger in the row next to the cockpit, Susie Vector.  Elvis Costello approached her:  "We'll my lady, you are clearly a site for sore eyes, but as I am a world famous musician I ask that you voluntarily exit the plane to allow me to continue my exalted existence.

With that Susie unceremoniously proceeded to kick Elvis in the nuts and toss him out the plane.

With that a voice came over the loud speaker.  "Well done my dear.  Can you please come up to the cabin and unlock the door, I have some urgent matters to discuss with you."  

Susie proceeded to open the cockpit door.  If she was surprised by what she saw in the cockpit, she betrayed no emotion.  Perched in the pilot's chair was her old friend the Talking Cat.

Talking Cat:  What took you so long?

Susie:  There appeared to be some disagreements about the passenger manifests.

Talking Cat:  Did the situation resolve to you satisfaction?

Susie:  I'm not sure yet.  

Talking Cat:  Neither am I.  Moreover, I have a confession to make.

Susie: Such as?

Talking Cat:  Well for starters, though I am a feline possessed of many talents, learning to fly a plane was never one of them.

Susie:  Oh my.  This appears to be another fine mess you have arranged for me.

Talking Cat:  Indeed.

What is the name of this Podcast? A Nameless Podcast

Sidekick:  What is the name of this podcast?  I've forgotten.

Nameless:  The Nameless podcast.

Sidekick:  Oh, this is the name of the podcast is Lameless.

Nameless:  No, the Nameless podcast.  And you my friend must have been drinking.  Normally, such activities are encouraged but .....

Sidekick:   I'm here at the Lameless podcast with Aimee Mann. Say Hi, to our audience Aimee.

Nameless:   You are mistaken my friend.  Aimee Mann has a name, and I am Nameless so please do not confuse us or the members of our studio audience.

Sidekick:  I'm here with Aimee Mann and since Nameless looks just like Aimee Mann that must be her nameless name.  Since Aimee is here and likes cigars, I'll going to roll her one against my thigh.

Nameless:  You should not roll any cigars in your condition, sidekick.  Moreover, you must be gentle to your genitals since you are a gentile.  

Sidekick:  The fun has long since dropped off the too much.  The station has left the train.  The song has left the fat lady.   Nameless, I'm glad you are here.  I was just talking to Aimee Mann.  Isn't that cool.  

Nameless:   You, my friend are the Zeitgeist of fun and delirium.  If fun and delirium had such a thing.  

Sidekick:   Hardly, I have always been the Zitgeist.  I have the pock marks to prove it.  Look at all these bumps.  What am I ?  I'm a zit!  lol

Nameless:   My friend, you are the life of the party, even if the party involves watching the Republican primary returns from Kentucky stream in. If anyone could make that hypothetical rendezvous exciting, that someone is you.  

Sidekick:  And you Aimee are so sweet and sandpapery like a kitten licking your face.  Come here kitty kitty.

Nameless:  Speaking of Cats, whatever happened to your friend the Talking Cat?

Sidekick:  My friend?  I thought he was your friend and you were Susie?

Nameless:  I am Nameless, I have always been nameless. My parents called me Nameless Nameless Nameless.   You must be referring to our sister station, the Talking Cat and Susie podcast.

Sidekick:  I can't wait for Susie to travel again and have more adventures with the Talking Cat.

Nameless;  I think that you have had enough adventures tonight already, Sidekick.

The Sidekick, He Rants: A Nameless Podcast

Once again, I am the Sidekick, and this is the podcast that we have started that does not have a name and is Nameless.   I don't know why we have started this.  But I have pressed the record button.  If you would be watching this podcast on video instead of listening to it, you notice that I am next to the Nameless one.

Nameless:  Hello, I am Nameless, but not faceless.  Here is my face.

Sidekick:  It is a very comely face.  My face, on the other hand, as you can see, lacks any symmetry.  I would be like something from a Picasso mural if you looked.   So please do not look.

Nameless:  I enjoy your face though it is very cubic.  I do not, on other hand, enjoy the face of the Gambian rats who have crawled underneath my house.

Sidekick:  The presence of the rats must be interfering with your F.U.N., or more importantly, the concept of Freakishly Unstructured Nonsense of which I am a devotee of your adherent.

Nameless:  As usual your are correct sidekick on both accounts, you are an adherent of me, I am Freakishly Unstructured, as well as Nameless, or just Freakishly Nameless for short, and the rats are purely nonsense. Perhaps they were sent to detect the mines which I have placed all around my house to prevent entry.  

Sidekick:  I thought for a minute, you were warning me of an impending Gambian rant, not a Gambian rat, coming my way.

Nameless:  What is a Gambian rant?  I have never heard of such a thing.

Sidekick:  That is because you are thinking too literal.  A Gambian rant can only be understood philosophically.  It involves a person of Gambian decent who is very upset with the political milieu that he or she finds herself in. She then becomes very upset and begins to go on a rant.   You sympathize with their plight and slowly find yourself getting hypnotized by the sound of her voice.   They keep going on and on about this dictator and that dictator. This bloody coup de etat.  This murderous thug.  That multinational imperialist company.  On and on it goes.  You find yourself being drawn further and further away from the land of F.U.N.  You begin to organize, to think locally and act globally.   You begin to....

Nameless:  I think that you are going on a Gambian rant right now my friend.

Sidekick:  It is true that the last despot of Gambia was overthrown by one of my more lengthy Gambian rants.  

Nameless:  I think that you can overthrow many governments with your Gambian rant.

Sidekick:  Well anyway, lets assume that I come over to your house and start to go on a Gambian rant. 

Nameless:  Lets not assume that.  You cannot come over to my house unless you have an invite and you know where I live and you do not know my address and there is a reason for that. 

Sidekick:  Well I did try to look you up once, but you were wearing a skirt and I was foiled.

Nameless:  Yes, the nameless skirt is most effective at preventing the random "look up."  There is no entry with the nameless skirt.  I like to stay Nameless and anonymous.  And vestal.   

Sidekick:  Well, would you like to know how you could get rid of me if I did show up at your house someday and began to go on a diatribe railing against the lack of economic growth per GNP and wage stagnation in sub-Saharan Africa?  

Nameless:  I think a .45 caliber pistol will do the job.  I have such a device on my premises.  I also have many mines, as I previously elucidated.  

Sidekick:  Excuse me for a second while a go on a wine break to a consider a F.U.N. response to your latest remark.

Nameless:  When you come back, please bring me some.  The Puglia is underneath the curtain in what used to be the Nameless Paris Hilton.