Thursday, August 25, 2016

Paging Dr. Yes

Interviewer ("I"):  We are hanging out at the corner of Collins and Eighth Street in Miami.

Anonymous Arms Dealer (AAD):  That's South Beach Miami

I:   Exactly.  And I don't mean to brag, but sitting next to me on of this bench is one of the world's largest arms dealers from a certain county in a certain part of the world whose name will not be disclosed for certain reasons.  But I think that what can be disclosed is that he is drinking Johnny Walker.   

AAD:  That's Johnny Walker Black label. 

I:  Well since we can't disclose your name, what should we call you?  Mr. X?  Maximum Cargo?  

AAD:   Because of my similarity to James Bond in many ways, I think you should refer to me as Dr. Yes. 

I:  Fantastic! Well, Dr. Yes what is on your agenda for your short stay here in South Beach Miami?

Dr. Yes: Of course, I cannot disclose that for certain security reasons. However, what I can disclose to you is that a very important transaction will take place near Islamorada in your Florida Keys in the very near future.  We are working through our US proxy, a certain very attractive female whose code-name is "Dreadlocks Galore."  Dreadlocks Galore is working as a front as a bartender and a photographer for National Geographic.. In any event,  this transaction will significantly enhance the defense capabilities of a certain Middle Eastern country.

I:  Is this the same buxom female who you rescued yesterday from the swimming snake?

Dr. Yes:  No, the woman I saved yesterday was another operative who was posing as my wife for another transaction, which for certain reasons I am not at liberty to disclose.  Her code name is "Alotta Jumbas."  Moreover, that was no mere swimming snake you saw yesterday--that was the rare North American King Cobra, known not only for its lethality, but the fact that it can swim faster than Ryan Lochte.

I:  And just so my listeners are aware, I actually saw Dr. Yes take down this swimming cobra with some sort of armament that he pulled out of his vest.

Dr. Yes:  My son, that "armament" as you called it was the 50 caliber magnum Desert Eagle.  It is a weapon deserving respect and I advise you take note of it.

I:  With all  respect that 50 caliber made short work of the snake.   It was also impressive at the dexterity in which you drew the weapon were able to dispatch the snake between its eyes.

Dr. Yes:  I was trained by the special forces in a certain Asian country to become one with many weapons.  However, for security reasons, I am not a liberty to disclose the methodology of my training.

I:  Is there anything you can disclose for the listeners here in America?

Dr. Yes:  Certainly, though marijuana has been legalized in several of your American States, at least here in Miami, the weed your countrymen smoke smells like skunk weed.  Have not your botanical skills advanced in the last Century?  What is the point of liberating the weed if you have not learned to \grow it.  Riddle me that, smart American.

I:  I'm not sure I have an answer for that, Dr. Yes.  Truly the weed here in Miami is the Schwag.  Especially the denziens on that flotilla we saw earlier today in the ocean.   A veritable olfactory nightmare.

Dr. Yes:  The second thing I would like to disclose is that in my county, the Islamic women wear the Burkini on the beach.   Here, I do not see any Moslem women on the beach.  What is the deal with that?  Are they afraid of Trump or something?

I:  I have them in my hotel room.  I barged into an ISIS meeting the other day and asked the men there if I could dance with their women. Care to join us?

Dr. Yes:  Not in a million years my friend.

I:  Have you not seen the Egyptian synchronized swimming team in the Olympics?




Sunday, August 14, 2016

The Sacrifice is Too Much

Voice 1:  We are at the Tiki bar and the Gods are angry.

Voice 2:  Why?  Do not they not like this frozen concoction that keeps me hanging on?

Voice 1:  No, these are the Gods of much Tiki--ness.   I think they demand a sacrifice.   Perhaps more than we can offer.  

Voice 2:  What kind of lame backward ass Gods are they?  How totally retro.   A sacrifice in this day and age?  Who do they think they are?   They need to get with the 21st Century.  We don't sacrifice to our Gods any more--as if we ever had any to begin with.

Voice 1: Oh, I think we still make many sacrifices to the Gods.  The Gods have just become more sophisticated in their demands so that we do no recognize it as a sacrifice per se.  Each time we go to the gym, for example, we sacrifice to the God of fitness so that we can live longer or to the God of the swimsuit adoration cult.   These frozen drinks and wine are nothing more than offerings to the Gods of temporary euphoria and happiness.   I think we both worship at that shrine daily.

Voice 2:  Maybe so, but what does this Tiki God want from us?

Voice 1:  He wants a virgin sacrifice.   I looked him up on the internet and this God is old school and traditional.

Voice 2:  Virgin sacrifice?  Are you kidding?  Where are we going to find a virgin?  Certainly not in this bar.

Voice 1:  We could always ask some of the patrons who look particularly inebriated.

Voice 2:  Ha!  Good luck with that.

Voice 1:  Excuse me Ma'am, it appears that one of the God's of this fine establishment is demanding a sacrifice or there will be dire repercussions with all the patrons herein.  We were wondering if you could help us.

Random Female in Tiki Bar ("RFTB"):  Sure.   I'd be happy to lay down a bunt to move your God's runner to second.  Here I go....

Voice 2:  I think you misunderstood what we are asking.  The God wants a virgin sacrifice.

RFTB:  Here, you can have my drink.  I'm not sure there is much virgin in the Daiquiri, but it might make your God happy.

Voice 1:  I think that you misunderstand us.  They are looking for a human sacrifice of a human who has not had sex yet.

RFTB:  Honey, you aren't going to find any of those in here.  I'm here just to get away from my six kids.  And your God isn't getting his hands on my oldest, I don't care what he is going to do to the people in here.

Voice 2:  Yes, I think his God is kind of out of luck in here.  He need to go back to the Dark Ages or something.

Voice 1:  What makes you think the God is a "he"?

Voice 2:  Any God who wants a Virgin is a man.   Women don't really give a shit.  Hell, Virgins don't know what they are doing anyway.

GOD OF THE TIKI BAR ("GOTTB"):  Blasphemers!  Prepare to feel my wrath!  (Bar starts shaking with ominous tremors).

RFTB:  Everybody run!  Save you daughters!

Voice 2: God of the Tiki Bar have you no shame?  Misogyny died long ago.  Why don't you make like the goalie and get the puck out of here.

GOTTB:  How dare you fail to respect my authority!

Voice 2:  Well, if you want a Virgin sacrifice, you will have to go elsewhere, you are out of luck here.

Voice 1:  Wait, before you kill us all, I will make the sacrifice.  For humor is my virgin sacrifice to reality.

GOTTB:   Huh?

Voice 1:  Think about it.  Its not very funny, trust me.  It can't be funny after all, I'm a virgin.

Voice 2:  And reality is my virgin sacrifice to logic.

GOTTB:  You unbelievers must be punished.

Voice 1:  We are not unbelievers but believe but in a very naive sort of way.   Please take our sacrifice of knowledge so that you can increase yours.  But while you are waiting, have this shot of mescal mixed with barrel aged run.

Voice 2:  Begone with you Tiki-God.  We are devotees of the God of Small Bits of Sarcasm Here and there.  We call upon him to banish you.

God of Small Bits of Sarcasm Here and There ("GOSBSHANDT"):   Fellow Tiki-God, these devotees mean you no harm.  I invoke the Deux Ex Machina.   Now lets go find us some Virgins.

AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER




Three dots and a dash, tunnel vision, Jbtv.  :-)









Monday, August 1, 2016

Tiny Radius of Awareness

I ran into an old friend last night in my dream.  I was doing some type of work in a boat.  The waters were rough and the boat struggled to stop on a rock in the middle of a bay.  After we stopped, we picked up a new passenger who happened to be my old friend J.  I had not seen J in years.  I knew at once why.  From his appearance it was obvious J  had been working as a stevedore avoiding detection. J's mien hardened when he saw me--then softened when I told him that I missed him.   Then hardened again when I told him that his former wife also missed him.  (Which was true--she never remarried).   

Our conversation followed off the boat to his house.  It was tiny and dilapidated.  He produced our old college yearbook and suggested that I take it.  When I asked why he disappeared, he told me that "I had to accept that some things just can't be explained.   That we will never know why the universe is here, or what exits out there beyond our tiny radius of awareness.  That's just how it is. "

I asked if he had any wine.    He just laughed and set his cat on my lap.   The cat was white and old.  It grabbed on to my forearm with its claws and began to scratch me with a malicious grin in its eyes. As I began to shake the cat away, I discovered it was not old, but it was rather a kitten.   It began to move with mechanical movements.  For some reason I knew the cat was some type of robot.  It started mewing and rubbing its whiskers against my hand, wanting attention.  

"Now its time to rest,"  J said.   "And shoot the bad thoughts out of the sky as soon as they appear."  When J smiled at me then I knew that he was not J.  He like the cat was some time of machine creation.  "Don't worry," machine J told me.  "Your body knows the truth of what your mind avoids.   Never forget this.  Even when you wake up."  

Then I knew that I was dreaming.   J died years ago.   I remembered this.  I saw the body at the funeral.   But I knew I was still in the dream.   So I floated up and out of tiny house, over the bay and into a great window of light shining above.  I wanted to go through the window, into the light, but I hesitated and grabbed onto the window seal.  If I let go, I would go into the light and I feared dissolution.  

I used to be able to do long division.  Now I have a calculator, even on my phone.   Without a phone, I am lost.

I used to be able to look at maps and orient myself and my surroundings.   Now with GPS on my phone, I don't need to keep track of directions anymore.   Without a phone, I am lost.

I used to be able to drive a car.   Now my car is driver-less, controlled by my phone.  Without a phone, I am lost.