Power of Hats

Being the person in charge give one too much power. I took a girls Santa hat temporarily because she was misbehaving. The misbehaving had nothing to do with the hat so I was probably over stepping my bounds and I feel a bit guilty about the whole thing. At my other job working with a man with developmental delays who acts up in order to get attention you can take his hat until he promises to behave. This is perhaps more ethical but still doesn't feel right. Authority figures are just bullies. I wish I was brave enough to stand up even when my hat is taken, but alas I am not. That's why it works. Nobody really is we are all just people pleasers, and that probably helps make society work.

I have a vision of running through the streets knocking off hats of men from the 19th Century and doing this until I came to a beautiful man who didn't care that his hat was knocked off and just continued walking. I am not sure if this is the proper response. It certainly doesn't bode well for the man pocketbook. Also, he is letting me the hat criminal "get away with it". But what else can he do? Maybe I am just putting too much stock in being different. Maybe the every man is write.

I think this may be becoming psychotic ramblings so I will stop. 

Smoke and soap

There is a beautiful thing that happens when you smoking and blowing bubbles (I am not talking about when you are very attractive and you are preforming oral sex on a man name with a peculiar name, though prehaps there can be beauty in that as well.) Bubbles are transcendent. The most ordinary of magic. The very fact that the laws of physics allow them to exist makes existence seem all the less likely.

Smoke at least makes sense. You heat up something hot enough it turn into a gas, the gas cools off an condenses all be it in a more particulate than before. Perhaps that is magic too, but after you except temperature affects state and that temperature is really just a measurement of speed, you can sort of.  You happen to understand something that can look pretty. It's like knowing the part of a flower.

I am not sure if I understand how smoke works, but it doesn't seem magical to me. I am not sure I know how bubbles work, but they still do seem magical. I picture the lipid lay of a cell actually but I believe it is generally the same idea. Soap is made up of these bipolar particles. You can picture a cross section of them  like tadpoles in two layer (there is water in the mixture too but I am not really picturing those particles right now.). The tadpoles are all lined up in two lines ready to swim away from one another, only that never really happens. If I can buy a sheet of these things as I suppose I can (I feel I am better at imaging billiard ball like atoms better. I haven't played much pool but I have never played with tadpoles) imagine that a volume of air can blow on them like a sheet in the wind. Eventually the wind blows hard enough that the sheet separates and for the same reason the sheet existed in the first place they form a sphere. Or at least something a mathematically naive person such as myself would call a sphere. I am not sure why they pop, it is probably something to do with wind or air pressure or gravity or something I am not thinking of. Maybe they pop because they are just too beautiful for this world and popping just makes them more beautiful. I don't know. I accept the colorful patterns of light much more then the existence of the bubble itself. But fine bubbles exist if you believe in them or not.

Cigarettes exist even if you don't smoke them. And you shouldn't smoke them unless you want to look very cool (I repeat myself). It is the simplest idea even. If you fill a bubble with pretty air you can see it becomes prettier. The outside of the bubble is free to shimmer and the smoke inside is trapped and swirls. Then the bubbles pop and release the smoke like a cheesy but beautiful magic trick. Of course it is going to do that, you put the smoke in there you idiot. Yet it still gets you every time, and fills you with full Disney wonder and makes you happy to be alive. Smoking is a stupid annoy habit that makes you smell bad and gives you cancer. Bubbles are a children's play thing a waste of a functioning adult's time and resources. I recommend blowing bubbles much more than I do smoking. But if you are going to smoke blow bubbles they might make your shorter smelly life better, even if they don't solve all your problems.            

The Gospel According to Jake Chapter 5:1-76

Jospeh was teaching the young Jesus one day in the wood shop. Jesus hadn’t wanted to learn about wood craft. “Come on I am the son of god when am I going to have build cabinets?”, he had argued. “I don’t plan on staying in one place long enough to even have a kitchen. I plan on wondering the dessert. I will have people for that sort of thing. If I even want to throw a party I will just steal someone else food and multiply it.”

“Everyone needs something to fall back on.” Joseph insisted. “What if this whole savor thing doesn’t work out? I am not going to have no free loading son. You will learn how to work.”

“Step son.” Jesus corrected him. He wasn’t sure why but he never really respected Joseph. It was probably because he never fucked Jesus’s mother. How can you respect a man who never slips his old lady the sausage between the thighs? To be honest it bothered Joseph as well. Anytime someone called his wife the Virgin Mary his heart broke a little. She wasn’t really a virgin. She had a child, children come from sex. He didn’t care how immaculate the fertilization was, he called it sex. Though he hadn’t actually checked he was pretty sure that she had lost her hymen, sure it probably happened in child birth but that still counts. He didn’t even understand why it was so imperative that his wife remain a virgin anymore. She was used up, unless God wanted to have more kids. Joseph hoped that he didn’t one was enough. He had stocked up on coat hangers just in case.

“Whatever,” replied Joseph, “You live under my roof and eat my food. Your mother is my wife. Forgive me for being presumptuous. ”

“You woudn’t have any of those things if it wasn’t for my Dad.” said Jesus.

“Well, I just consider it child support. Forgive me for feeling entitled.”

“You are forgiven.”

Joseph hated when Jesus did that. Having a child that can absolve sins had really ruined that saying.

“Alright then if you are done saving my soul let get to work on these cabinets.” said Joseph.

“I haven’t even started saving your soul yet Step-dad. You just wait and see.”

“Less bragging more carpentering. ”

“My dad would ever carpenter things. He would just will some into existence, or make them out of mud, but only if he had to.”

“Well, you are not your Dad.”

“Actually, I kind of am. Do you want me to explain it to you again?”

“No thanks.”

Raising the son of god and not being able to fuck your wife really make one not care to hear how wonderful and magical the guy is. I mean what is so special about God where he refuses to give a woman’s husband his rightfully earned sloppy seconds? Joseph had used this argument many times with Mary, but she would never change her position. She wouldn’t even give him a fucking blow job. What the fuck was up with that? She would always say “I am sure if God wanted us to do those dirty things he would have mentioned it or sent an angel or something.” Because she had spoken to god dontcha know and people who speak to God don’t do those things unless God tells them to. Joseph asked her if she would ask, but she said she wouldn’t. “He is the all being, all knowing, all present master of time, space, and creation, I don’t want to be a bother. Surely he has enough to worry about. ” Joseph had prayed about it, and learned that prays go unanswered which is an answer in and of itself. He had tricked her into touching it once and he had to sleep on the couch for a month. That wasn’t as bad as the time he tried to convince her to watch him masturbate. She told him that if he wasn’t careful, she would have God make a rule against that sort of thing and then he wouldn’t be allowed to do it at all.

His marriage was a sham. They were glorified roommates raising the son of god together. He had considered divorce many times but every time he did an Angel would show up in his dreams. Apparently, God doesn’t believe in divorce, and if Joseph though his life was bad now just wait a see what would happen if he talked Mary into a “Trail Seperation”, God would cut his fucking dick off if he tried some pussy shit like that. At least that is what the Angel said, could the Angle be lying to him? He didn’t really know too much about these things, and didn’t want to find out. The Angel would then remind him what a horror it was to raise the king of kings, the alpha and the omega. And the Angel didn’t want to ruin the surprise but the was a big reward in it for Joseph if he could just hang in there a little bit longer, 33 more years at most.  Joseph had heard rumors that this big reward was something like 72 virgins, but knowing his luck he bet they wouldn’t put out either.

In away though, Joseph felt sorry for Jesus. If God was so hard on his bitch’s husband imagine who hard he would be on his bastard son. Joseph had been lucky enough to go around the block a few times before he decided to settle down and God took a personal interest in his sex life. Jesus would probably never have sex, Big Father in the sky would never allow it.  Probably couldn’t even masturbate if he wanted to. For a divine being, Jesus certainly wasn’t well endowed. It wasn’t a micropenis, but it was nothing to be proud of. Jesus was also deluded enough to think he could make a living in public speaking. This kid who couldn’t even get a passing grade in Arabic class was going to inspire people? He only told this stupid stories that never made sense. He certainly couldn’t be a carpenter. He just didn’t have a knack for it. Pretty much the only  thing he could make was a lower case “t” out of two long planks and who could ever think of a use for that?  Somehow Joseph had managed to sell his son’s experiment to some gullible romans by telling them it was a method for capital punishment. Joseph would really have a laugh if he walked by a hill some day and saw some poor sap nailed to one of those “t”s. That would be the day. Joseph thought about that and smiled a bit and he was finally in a good enough mood to get down to some wood work.

“Come on,” said Joseph to Jesus “I will show you how to make a dove tail joint, you like doves don’t you. Hopefully you won’t lose any fingers this time. Last time it took you hours to reattach them and you hardly got one board planed.”

Red Ribbon

It was red ribbon week apparently this week. The kids in the schools where I teach were wearing stupid red stickers that said “The choice for me is drug free” or something equally cheese and contrived. Seeing them on children just makes me say to myself “I would hope so, you are only in third grade”. I also imagine that other children are going around school wearing ribbons say “The choice for me is interventions drugs” or “I am just going to be an alcoholic”. Of course, the kids haven’t made up their minds yet which makes the fact they are wearing ribbons that insist that they have already made their life choices ridiculous. Even if they do go home and snort coke off their Dora the Explorer Dvd. I am sure they would still wear the ribbon hypocritically and probably not reconsider their life choices.  I think a 3^rd grade drug addict would be made fun of. It is only cool to be a drug addict in high school and maybe in college, and even then the coolness is limited.

The choice for me is drug free but I almost never wear a red ribbon. I am not sure if I know a good reason to not do drugs. I just don’t think it is a good idea for me. It has nothing to do with knowing the dangers. I don’t really know the dangers. Mostly because I am pretty sure what they told me in elementary school was an exaggeration.  Well about drugs at least. They probably tell you the truth about something. But they have no reason to tell you the truth about drugs. They just want you not to do them, which sort of makes me want to do them. Only I don’t want me to do them more than they don’t want me to do them.  So it balances out.

Whatever. Don’t do drugs. Unless you are under 18 and don’t have to be a productive member of society. Also, I probably don’t want you around me if you are on drugs especially if you are under 18. Drinking is annoying. And don’t smoke….unless you want to look really cool. 

Don't follow leaders, watch the parking meters.  

The Gospel According to Jake 37:1-278

Jesus said to the Apostles “Does this robe make me look fat?” It was a hot sunny day in the Middle East and the 13 of them were resting under a palm tree. Well actually there was only 12 of them under the tree. They always sent one to sit under a different palm tree far away from the group. This time it was Philip, well frankly it was always Philip. They said it was because it was unlucky to sit in a group of 13, but really it was just that nobody liked Philip. Simon Peter was the first to speak “Umm.. No you are skinny.  We are all skinny. We are poor and skinny. Poor people are skinny that is just how these things work.”  Simon Peter was so sumg Jesus just ignored him.

“Anyone else?” Jesus asked. John spoke up next “It makes you look skinny, but it makes you butt look big.” Jesus shot him an evil look.  John corrected himself “I was joking. God, lord can’t you take a joke.” Jesus could talk a joke and he was deeply upset that John did not see the hilarious irony of giving him of all people an evil look. This was worse than when they didn’t get a parable. What was so fucking hard to understand about parables?  Fucking fishermen! “No seriously,” said Jesus, “does this robe make me look fat?” “Are we talking like “PH” fat, like Phat?  You know like phat as in cool, not fat as in obese?” Jesus said “Well, both I guess.” “Oh, then skinny and cool lord, skinny and cool.” replied Andrew.  

“Shut up, Andrew,” said Jesus, “Come on someone tell me if I look fat, F-A-T” (Translator’s note: Jesus of couse did not speak English so that is not actually the letters he said. I just want to point that out as the only place I have deviated from an exact translation. Thank you.) “

I really don’t care Jesus.” said James. James was always the rebellious one, if he was not John’s brother he would have already been kicked out of the group. Jesus knew the day would probably come though so he already had Matthias lined up to replace him just in case. Jesus just sighed to himself this time and said in a rather harsh tone “Fine! Then why don’t you go over to the other palm tree with Philip and not care over there.” James put his sandals on and went to join Philip.

There was an awkward silence.  James the Less spoke up because he could see that Jesus was upset and he wanted to prove that not all James are bad people.   “Fat or not I think you look you look beautiful lord, you are the most handsome man I Have ever followed and well I just want to tell you that I love you. I just love you.” Jesus smiled. James the less always sounded like he wanted to suck his cock, and though Jesus defiantly didn’t swing that way, he found it funny how obvious it was.

“Thank you”, said Jesus, “but you still haven’t answered my question?” “I am starting to doubt that you even want an answer to this question at all!” said Thomas. Jesus just ignored him. He had learned this was the best way to deal with skepticism. Whenever someone accused you curing a shill from the audience or sorry you throw away the Kool-aid packet after turning water into “wine” it was best to just ignore it. People are going to believe what they want to believe, one day though Jesus would come up with a trick that would fool Thomas. He had something big planned. He had bribe city officials and everything, it was going to be quite the show. But that lay further down the road.

Simon Not Peter said “Yeah, well I pretty much agree with Simon Peter. ” He always did. He felt that the two Simons should show solidarity. It was the only way they could keep up with the James. Simon was mostly just glad Jesus came up with the whole thing of calling the other Simon “Rock” (Peter) because it kept him from being called “Simon the Less”, which was a horrible nickname if he had ever heard of one.   “Come on who hasn’t spoken up yet?” asked Jesus.

Matthew and Judas look at one another from the other side of the shade. Judas gave a cunning smile. Matthew knew Judas knew something, but that he wasn’t going to say it until Matthew said his first. Matthew hated when Judas did this. Judas was always trying to make everyone look stupid. It was days like this when Matthew looked back on the simple days when he was a tax collector and everything was golden, literally. Seriously he made bank. His clothes, his house, and even his toothbrush, all of it was solid gold, none of that gold leaf bullshit. Well, his wife was only gold leaf but that was only because no one had invented gold sex robots yet.  Matthew had sold that all now all to follow some dirty jew bastard with the smooth talking words. Elaborate promises were made, but it turns out that shit only pays off after you are dead. Matthew knew a thing or two about scams but he knew enough to keep him mouth shut.

“I am gonna go with yes.”  said Matthew.  “Oh, why is that?” Asked Jesus. “Oh, just to be different, I guess.” replied Matthew. “

Right” said Jesus an air of disappointment about his voice, “alright, Judas what do you think?”.  “Of course, they make you look fat,” said Judas, “There louse fitted clothing. Besides, you are wearing horizontal stripes that always make people look fat.” “Oh Judas,” said Jesus, “you kill me sometimes you know that. Your honesty, it just kills me.” With that Jesus smiled, he then made the announcement that he would be spending sometime in the desert alone and not to follow him, he would be back in about a month or so give or take 10 days and obviously the same amount of nights.

The meeting adjourned and everyone slowly left and went their separate ways leaving Jesus alone under the palm tree. It was evening and the sunset looked beautiful over the desert. Jesus got up and started walking towards it. He hadn’t told them about his date with the devil; for fear that they would get jealous or that they would think he was gay. It is not like fallen angels have genders any more than any other angles. Also, Satan always took on the form of that which you find most tempting, and there was nothing Jesus liked more than a red head with a firm ass and a large rack. Jesus had heard that Satan was into fat guys. That was the only reason he had asked earlier. I mean it is not like Satan would fuck anyone, even if they were King of the Jews.  

Oil Change

Oil changes use to intimidate, because I know nothing about cars. Well, actually, I am still intimidated but I at least know what to expect know. You pull in and they ask you a few simple questions that don't really seem to matter. You leave the keys in the car because they are going to pull it out of the garage in the end. Actually the part where you pull into the garage is sort of scary, cars get fucked up when they fall into that hole. Lucky the man (or I suppose women, but it never is a women now is it?) give you the universal airport signals so you line up your car correctly. I am not sure what correctly is but somehow I don't fall in the hole. The airport signals must be an effective and universal form of communication. For thousand of years those gestures must have existed though they are probably less useful on a camel. Anyways, you get out of car and go wait in the waiting room. I think in the future they are going to figure out how to create a proper waiting room. Something is still too expensive or wasn't been invented yet because there is no reason why waiting rooms need to be boring. Daytime TV doesn't cut it even with a flat screen. I might be wrong about magazines but in general I don't trust them. I suppose one solution is go to a oil change that is connected to a Walmart. Say what you will about Walmart it is much better than a waiting room. Besides you could probably be shopping for something. Unless you are poor like me, then it is just something you walk around in. One benefit of walking around Walmart is that they can't find you to tell you about the status of your air filters. The first time I went in to get my oil changed I don't even think I knew there were air filters in the car. They genuinely worried me when I was told they might need to be replaced. It made me not want to drive. Driving is expensive! You have to replace air filters! There is something uncomfortable about the way they try to sell it to you. It sort of makes you think that they just have dirty ones they show everyone. I don't really think they do. I think it is just there poor to mediocre sales man which makes me think they are lying. There is still always something wrong and that just makes me suspicious. It is paranoia but still they come at you with air filters and a piece of paper with fluids on it, and I am supposed to respect their opinion on my car. Again I know nothing about cars too and I am not very good at human interaction sometimes. I don't really want to get my oil changed but I do want to drive and I don't know how to change it myself. Cars are needy. Maybe I should make it a goal to live with out a car, which I guess means city or middle of nowhere where they don't even have roads. I do not hesitate to choose the former. Of course, bad guys live in cities (and bears and lions in places that don't have roads) and how are you supposed to out run them if you don't have a car. I guess a gym membership, but now you are starting to get back into spending money and doing things I have no interest in, so maybe a car is just easier. Whatever. The men always look so disappointed when I tell them no I do not want to replace that cabin air filter that has small trees of dust growing in it, I like breathing in dust and having less efficient heating and cooling. It doesn't mean you are a bad sales person I am just an asshole with trust issues who also happens to be poor and is very defensive about the fact I know little about cars. I have actually changed the air filters before when my dad showed me. That doesn't mean I know how to do it but it looked easy enough at the time. Anyways, he goes back and hopefully isn't to spite full and puts everything back the way it is suppose to go. You get called up to the counter and pay a seemingly random amount of money. You go out to your car and you drive off. You are free until the sticker on your window say that you have driven 4,000 mile and it is time to go back in a get told the things you had forgotten about are still work with you car. Such is life. Still might be easier then going to the gym.    

Saturn L200

I miss my old Saturn LW200. Well at least for the sake of this blog I do. Implied is that I have a new Saturn LW200 which I drive and that is correct. I totaled the old Saturn I a faithful February day back in the year of someone else's lord 2009. It may have been the day Buddy Holly died, I am not that sure of the date of either these two events and don't particularly care to look either of them up. I was driving down Meridian street right in front of my apartment building when I probably ran a red light. The last time I remember seeing the light it was a stale green. I believe I was listening to The Velvet Underground's aptly titled album The Velvet Underground (not the one with Nico, nor with John Cale for that matter) on my way to buy Mylar for my silkscreen class (Mylar is used to make sure you get the correct registration on your print).It had snowed somewhat recently and it had been awhile since I had driven since it was a bitch to get out of my apartment parking lot when it snow.

I wasn't in a hurry. I honestly don't believe I was paying attention to the traffic lights, but the light was green at one time. It probably wasn't green when I got into the intersection and t-boned a red cobalt which was trying to travel perpendicular to me. I believe I have in the past been waiting at a red light and  gone with out the light turning green by accidentally (perhaps thinking I was just at a stop sign), so I could understand how the crash could not be my fault. However, I have accidentally run red lights more, so it was probably my fault. I told the cop it wasn't, but I was confused at the time. Also, I think you are supposed to lie to cops. I mean unless you murder someone, its the american way. Anyways, I crash into the side of her car real good. I probably wasn't going that fast, but I probably wasn't paying attention to that either. The crash though got my attention real quick.

Time went slower and faster all at the same time, meaning time likely went at the normal speed at least from the perspective of an objective viewer. The air bags deployed leaving me in the surreal situation of not quite understanding where I was. I knew I had been driving not seconds before and I was still in a car. It sort of look like my car except that condom like pillows had been deployed where the steering wheel and glove compartment used to be. The hood seemed more bent up then normal and I went to turn the car off only to discover that is already was off. The power must have worked somewhat because I got my CD out. I had hit some girl who was on her way to class at the same college I was going to. I had made her late for class which I kind of found funny because no one every really buys yours excuse. Car crash is a pretty good excuse though. We were both amiable enough about the crash and seemed to be in good health. The cars were not in great shape. The next time I saw my car I was getting all of my crap out of it so the insurance company could sell it for parts.

It was a good car we had been though a lot together. I was there when we picked it up off the lot shortly after interest rates went down after September 11th. I had somehow felt cool being a 7th grader being driven around in a station wagon, which perhaps shows exactly how lame the other family cars had been. I learned how to drive in that car behind a defunct Supermarket in the parking lot of a defunct mini golf course. I drove it some to high school. I got more made fun of for driving a couple year old station wagon than I did for driving a 17 year old truck that was quite dented from hitting a deer. I had made out with my first girlfriend in that car. I had two girls in the backseat of that car with their pants off. I was in the front seat driving at the time, but neither of them was my sister so it still counts. It had been nothing but reliable and I ran it into a cobalt.

The current Saturn Wagon that I drive is the same year and make and model as the old one. Its a different color, a whorish metallic blue as opposed to the pure virginal sliver of the old one. The air conditioning has stopped working. The speaker are I believe lower in quality though I could be wrong. Somebody hit my taillight so one of the lens is now made out of red tape. I have made out with people in it sure but its not the same. I don't have any stories about girls taking off there pants in it, just one about a boy I didn't really like very much changing his pants in it awkwardly in the Cincinnati Museum of Art parking lot.

The old one was coming close to crossing the 100,000 mile mark on the speedo when I crash it. The new one gave me the chance to drive over that milestone and I hardly even noticed. It was less fun in a used car that had been used by some stranger and not my family. I don't know if I honestly miss it. I still have a machine that takes me where I want to go and that might be enough. Still I wish I had had a proper goodbye one that didn't end real death, just slowly not working too much and costing to much to fix. (Side note: Car crashes are sort of fun if no one dies, the only bummer part is that they end up costing bunches of money.) Still there are memories. Maybe I could make out with my first ex-girlfriend while two girls with no pants on watch. It could happen in the new car, but I really don't care if it didn't.