Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Eulogy, Foology, Whoohoohoology and Mamoulogy

One of the giants of modern science, Albert Hofmann, 102, died yesterday in Switzerland. Herr Hofmann, of course, is best known as the father of LSD, which he discovered in 1938 and used for several subsequent decades, in a clinical way, not a recreational way. He believed throughout his life that LSD should not be banned, and should be used in clinical trials of its intended use in the treatment of schizophrenia. He also bore the lifelong shame caused by his son, Abbie, who admittedly was under the influence of 'daddy's magic elixir' when he was conked on the head with Pete Townsend's guitar at Woodstock.

I don't know about you, but, I, for one, am proud to be an inhabitant of a universe which contains an object called a Lyman Alpha blob. That the largest object in the known universe is called a blob inspires within me a feeling bordering on euphoria. If the Great Triad ever includes the concept of heaven, the Big Mamou will certainly reside in a Lyman Alpha Blob.

In other scientific news, researchers have succeeded in suspending 'nothing', also called a 'squeezed vacuum', in a puff of gas. When light is passed through the 'nothing', all that remains is the 'uncertainty' of the light. This is also referred to as 'entangled light'. It is therefore decided that the ultimate goal of adherents of The Great Triad is to attain 'entangled enlightenment'. Aside: It would have been quicker, I think, when searching for nothing suspended in a puff of gas, to have just x-rayed the skull of our current president.

Which leads me to the point. It seems to me that Georgie Jr, who claims the highlight of his presidency was the hooking of a large bass on his ranch in Texas, and who has clearly partaken of several 'banned' substances, should drop a few hits of sunshine from time to time. In fact, it should be a requirement for all presidents, and those candidates who aspire to be. I mean, I tend to look at life simply, and I see most 'solutions' in simplistic terms. I don't know exactly how many Americans have died in Iraq, but I am aware that a large percentage of those deaths can be attributed to suicide. It should be clear to even the most right wing jingo that the reasons our soldiers are killing themselves is because they are fighting for no reason with no end in sight. Neither B.O., Queen H, King John or the Shrub are going to do anything to change that. Since I hold out no hope that any of them will reach 'entangled enlightenment', maybe a few psychedelic visions might lead them to a better path.

Look, lest you think I am just another blind liberal, let me assure you that I understand that the easiest way to ignore the race problem is to send them off to be killed in a foreign land. And I understand that 18 is the best time of your life, whether you're shooting or being shot at. And I understand that you can't be in a position of power without losing sight of the common man and his problems, so maybe it's just time to simplify. Let's just stop killing period.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Traffic jams, butterflies and narcissism

A lot of people don't enjoy traffic jams, primarily because they make them late for work or late for dinner, but as the penultimate example of chaos at work, there is little that brings me as much enjoyment. First off, I like being late for work, but they also provide me the time to reflect on the upcoming day, and to definitively figure out how one flat tire can wreak such havoc.

Take the logjam on Rte 3 South today. It was started by an expansion joint that popped up on the Southeast expressway, causing the closure of two lanes and numerous flat tires, but the length of the delay (over 20 miles) was created by chaos at work. Each lane change by an impatient driver deluded into thinking he would get to work faster if he changed lanes, creates a momentary brake application by the driver behind him. Multiply that effect a thousandfold and the last driver in line is 2 hours late for work. This is obviously exacerbated by the 'gawk' effect, whereby you slow down a tiny bit to watch the guy next to you pick his nose or retype the defense's summation (same thing really). If you retool the differential equation to include love taps, leg shaving and miscellaneous sexual diversions, it's a small wonder that you make it out of your driveway. One has to wonder about the imminent introduction of the 'smart' car, or, as I like to call it, the guided missile. But let's leave that for a later date.

This morning's debacle allowed me time to reflect on the Mars-Venus conflict. I don't really feel it necessary to point out that the biggest problem between men and women is sex. If the Great Creator, whoever the fuck that is, had put any thought into it, he/she/it would have done 1 of 2 things differently. The first option would have been to eliminate the brain, or at least self awareness, from the equation, and lest us lead a happier existence, like that of our nearest relative, the bonobo. Twenty four hour a day sexual frenzy without concern for the male/female aspect of your closest momentary neighbor. But the more elegant solution, at least in my mind, would have been to give each man ten penises and each woman ten vaginas. The connection time needed would be monumental, thereby eliminating casual sex, and making procreation much more difficult (and worthwhile, imagine, ten simultaneous orgasms), bringing joy to ZPG advocates everywhere. I mean, we have ten fingers and ten toes, two of a lot of things, but only the important sexual things come as one, the penis, the vagina and the tongue. Which make you wonder why you only have one nose. And speaking of noses.................

While coaching my son's little league team this weekend, it struck me that baseball fields have a remarkable smell. There is something about the combination of clay and lime and sweat that strikes a basic chord within me and reminds me that all is right with the world when baseball is involved.

This internet dating thing is strange. I mean without initial physical contact, you can learn an awful lot about a potential partner, because you have to take the time to read and to describe. I mean, it does leave a lot of room for deception, but it also has a lot of room for honesty, given the anonymity of it all and the protection that affords.

So I 'meet' this woman online, read her blog, eagerly anticipate her e-mails, talk to her on the phone. I find that she is incredibly intelligent, witty and irreverent, creative, beautiful, a little bit crazy and a little off beat. So during the traffic jam, I realized that without ever having met her, I am falling in love with myself. So I looked in the mirror when I got to work, saw that the sparkle had returned to my eyes, and came to the conclusion that self love is not a bad way to go.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Unapplied Science

At the outset, this feels like it will be more of a rant than any sort of coherent essay, but I have decided to undertake it anyway, since today, I have discovered the greatest, although incorrectly applied, scientific discovery of the 21st century.

The device is called the Mosquito. It is an anti-loitering device which targets teenagers and young adults only. The science is a little bit difficult, so try to bear with me. The device emits an ultrasonic tone which is only audible to humans through thier early twenties. This is explained by the fact that as we age past that point, we lose the fine, ultrasensitive hairs that line the ear canal. This of course is due to the improper use of the QTip, but I will leave that for a later conspiracy theory. Amazingly enough, the tone, resembling fingernails on a chalkboard, does not bother babies, toddlers or children until about age 12, or dogs. This is explained by the rampant growth of pubic hair in humans at around that age (Think of a piano with thick heavy low end strings and thin strings at the top. The auditory harmonic is altered by puberty until it almost resembles Barry Manilow clawing a chalkboard, which would clearly be aggravating to any generation but especially to midlevel sprouts). (Aside: Interestingly enough, this also explains why no normal adult can ever fully grasp the lyrics to any current hip-hop song)

The ACLU, GDRCLU, UKCLU, AUSCLU and CLUs everywhere are up in arms over the intentional torture of youth. The long term effects on health are unknown. The Great Triad therefore highly recommends that the youth of america spend much more time with the legs of their boy/girlfriends wrapped around their heads. The hearing of our youth must be protected.

But, enough about the intended use of the device. There are many socially productive uses for the Mosquito, although it would have to be altered slightly. The following are just a few of my suggestions.

Imagine you are standing in a long line at the supermarket when the device emits a tone, causing excruciating feedback in the hearing aids of the 78 year old woman at the front, who has been counting out change for the last 1/2 hour. She drops her wallet and pocketbook on the floor and is writhing in obvious discomfort. This of course will do nothing to allay your almost homicidal frustration, but everyone in line will be laughing and that makes for a much better world.

Imagine, you come home from work unexpectedly and find your daughter having sex with her boyfriend on YOUR bed. You turn on the device which sends a electical impulse through the coil springs in the mattress targeting her pleasure centers, causing her the most mind-blowing, gut wrenching orgasm she has ever had. When it's over, she throws her boyfriend out of the house, runs out and finds a job, buys and installs her own device, throws out her cellphone and her Ipod,
and only comes out of her room for dinner. She of course grows up and lives happily ever after.

Imagine, you are out grouse hunting with several of your friends, when one of them turns for a shot and accidently shoots you. You press the button on you device, which creates a strong elecromagnetic pulse, dislodging the bullet from your chest, launching it between your friends eyes. Long live the speaker of the house. You of course live happily ever after.

Imagine, you're just fed up with the general grumpiness and stupidity of humanity. You push the button on your device and everyone starts smiling and laughing. Then you wake up.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

The Great and Unknown Roswell Conspiracy

Lest you believe already that I am some sort of alien abduction theory lunatic, I beg, reader, that you continue on. Most people have been led to believe that the cover-up in Roswell involved the wreckage of an alien craft and possibly surviving members of an alien race. Nothing could be further from the truth. If it isn't already abundantly clear that no one gives a rat's ass about extraterrestrials, let alone space exploration, then let me assure you that is the case. If the american, and global as well, imagination is to continue it's spiraling decline, there is no room for exploring the unexplored. Hell, they can't even make an original movie anymore, let alone have an original thought.

No, all that shit about spaceships was leaked to the public as a strictly diversionary tactic, designed to hide the most devious plot ever devised by the 'secret oligarchy' in America. In fact even now, most people are unaware of this devious plot.

I myself, only made the connection by accident. While perusing several websites regarding the history of plumbing trends in the US, an astonishing fact leapt off the screen, and sent me careening down an investigative path into the motives of america's ruling elite. It turns out that the Roswell news leak coincides directly with mandatory legislation in all 48 states that public toilet seats be horseshoe-shaped.

Research prior to, and during the second world war, conducted simultaneously by both axis and allied powers, revealed that the simple geometric shape, the circle provides 99.9% of humanity with its basic sense of security. This is evidenced by such things as the wedding rings, hula hoops and most arguments. It was reasoned by the SPTA (secret powers that are) that if they could alter humanity's basic sense of security, then humanity could be more easily controlled

After the introduction of the horseshoe-shaped toilet seat, outrage was prevalent throughout the world, but the reaction was surprisingly less violent than that immediately following the eradication of the overhead pullchain flush tank, which was partly blamed in the assasination of archduke Ferdinand. People grew in time to eventually like it. When a child forgot to lift the seat, the mess was not as copious. The feeling created by cold contact with porcelain made some men feel better about endowment issues. It allowed more room for 'tidying' up and digital manipulation. Men, women and children everywhere enjoyed the benefits. But most people failed to realize how this changed their outlook; the plan was sublime to the nth degree. What has followed, when viewed as a whole, is horrifying. As the general populace grew less and less creative, the SPTA continued to subliminally control their wants and desires, eventually deciding for them what they should and shouldn't enjoy. This culminated of course in the election of Georgie Jr, and the continuing success of American Idol.

On a more personal note, several incidents in my life spring to mind regarding the general decline of human intelligence. Several years ago, while helping a friend sell sweaters at the BigE, a farming sort of gentleman, tipping the scales at well over 400 pounds, asked me if we had a particular sweater in large (?). I quickly responded, " Sure,which arm are you going to wear it on"?, and he walked away.

And I am not immune either. A few years earlier, I was a stranded hitchhiker in Walsenburg, Co., and I decided that hopping a freight train, travelling at least 30MPH, while toting a 50 pound pack on my back, was a good idea. I did however manage to dodge the light post while being dragged along backwards, and the stones imbedded in my thighs were removed without resultant infection.

Stephen Hawking posited several days ago that unintelligent life is likely throughout the universe, but that intelligent life might be very rare. He also pointed out that some would question whether it has occurred on earth.

Big Brother Bob Emery was wrong. The grass is not greener in the other fellow's yard. Well, gotta run. Going to see Rocky V.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


In the timeline of humanity's brief existence in the cosmos, sometime between the discovery of the vagina as an implement for good or evil and the adoption of the Kabballah by Madonna and the rest of the faded glitterati, nothing has interrupted the journey on the path to pure nothingness as much as the forbidden subjects of workplace lavatory conversation--sex, religion and politics. Luckily, in this day and age, the three are intertwined like an anaconda mating ball.

First case in point: Hillary "Rodman" Clinton. Ever since the great Cohiba incident, two things have become remakably clear. One, that the former first lady forgot to provide Bill with his first beaner, and two, she has the bigger set of balls.

While I pay little attention to politics, it seems to me that we have been provided no indication as to Ms. Clinton's religious leanings. While I'm sure she has used the overly uttered 'god bless america' on several occasions, and I'm certain she's cried out "oh god" during some ecstatic sexual frenzy, religion does not seem to hold much sway with the future president.

If she had followed the righteous path to nothingness, she might have found her true calling, instead of fighting for her political life with a man who few of us had ever heard of three years ago.

Second case in point: Tom Cruise. Tommy provides the penultimate example of why celebrities should stick with their lives of quiet stupidity, and stop proselytizing to the general masses. I am certain that there are americans who listen to Tommy regarding politics, and even his recommendations for creating the perfect marriage, but why would anyone want to listen to him spew vomit regarding the 'church' of scientology, perhaps the only religion on earth more inane than my own. For god's sake, he even convinced John Travolta. 'Stupid is as stupid does'. Let me see. If I had more money than the vatican (although no popemobile), worked maybe 3 months a year, was pumping a nubile nymphet on a regular basis, would I look for truth in some specious religion founded by some hack science fiction writer. Tommy, just shut up and enjoy your life. America's envy will be even greater.

Third case in point: Demi Moore. She highly recommends completely shaving your body, bathing in turpentine, and letting leeches purify your blood. This is only slightly less stupid than believing a pop singing strumpet can find enlightenment through bastardized jewish mysticism. 'Nuff said.

In light of the rampant decline in human intelligience, the Great Triad has adopted a Darrell Scott song as it's main hymn.

"..................sometimes you go where the river isn't flowing,
look where you are, just call it a life.

Last night I dreamed I had a message for the masses.
A message for the masses that would set them free.
I shook my tambourine and stood on a soapbox.
Stood on a soapbox and said "Be like me".

Monday, April 21, 2008


Since gaining the knowledge that the universe is expanding, I have always been fascinated by the question, "What is it expanding into"? I have always taken a fair amount of glee in the knowledge that it is expanding into nothing. I mean, imagine, that beyond the edge of the universe there is nothing. I have never found any scientific theories regarding this phenomenon, so I assume that I am the only person on earth fascinated by it. There has to be room out there, no?.
I spent a fair amount of my young childhood trying to conceive of nothing, and concluded by the age of eight that nothing is impossible, but probable nonetheless. Even the process of thinking about nothing is unattainable, although many of my friends will tell you that I achieve it fairly frequently. It should be clear that when trying to think about nothing, you are by definition thinking about something, that being 'nothing'.. Even the idea of nothing as in the absence of everything is inconceivable. When my grandfather was still alive, I tried to convince myself that god lived in the nothing, but discovered that if that were true, and the nothing were pure, then god could not be real, because he would have to be nothing for the nothing to be nothing (interestingly enough, this conclusion coincided with the death of my grandfather, an orthodox cantor, who had previously convinced me of the existence of god).
When I reached adolescence, I thought perhaps that drugs could help me conceive of nothing. Most failed miserably. LSD, which I enjoyed immensely and is still my favorite, is clearly the anti-nothing drug. The other hallucinogens, i.e peyote and mescaline, provided little insight as well. The opiates, while they made me see myself as nothing, did nothing to define nothing in the terms I sought. For a long time, I thought that perhaps marijuana and hashish might pave the road to nothing, and while they came close and I found that I could empty my mind of almost every serious thought, I could not evacuate the most silly and ridiculous thoughts from my brain. It was from this realization onward into young adulthood that I only viewed drugs as a recreational amusement, not as a tool for enlightenment. I did continue to view them as a tool for getting laid however.
During my young adulthood in Cambridge, MA, I allowed several women to try to convince me that perhaps yoga, and even transcendental meditation, might enlighten my path toward nothing, and while the sex was amazing.....well, same old story.
I gave up hope for awhile and turned to alcohol, which numbed me in my quest. I even tried marriage, and occasional cheap meaningless sex, both of which allowed me to focus, to center and even on occasion to divine, but they distracted me from my path and only eliminated my earthly possessions i.e. they left me with nothing.
Now, I have re-energized my quest toward nothing, and I seek others to accompany me on this journey. The mantra of the Great Triad is the attainment of the nothing for all humanity. Until nothing is attained, we cannot alter the course of probabilities and occurrences which currently determine our paths in life. The attainment of the truly blank slate is clearly the place to start to reanimate humanity on a more righteous path. From nothing comes everything. If we are ever to prove that we are smarter than dogs, we must take 'the road less travelled by', and find our way to the nothing from whence it all begins.

Thursday, April 17, 2008


As I'm sure most of you are aware, Edward Lorenz began his journey into the great beyond yesterday. The founding father of chaos theory will be sanctified later this week, as soon as the countless polynesian shaman are through verifying that his death was not premature. The physical soul was not noted to have exited through the left tearduct by witnesses at his side, therefore full resurrection massage will be performed over the next several days. However, this will require the recapture of the physical soul in cupped hands first, and the reinsertion of the soul beneath his left big toe.

For those of you not familiar with Dr. Lorenz' theory, it was made famous by his conjecture that even the flapping of one butterfly's wings in South America could ultimately effect changes in the tornado season in Oklahoma. Small events can birth the greatest longterm changes. This of course, became known as the butterfly effect. It should be clear at this point why this theory is embraced in the lexicon of the Great Triad.

Needless to say, the realm of the Big Mamou is in hyperkinetic turmoil. This will be exacerbated by record high projections for the spring birthrates of both monarch and swallowtail butterflies. Oooooooooooooooooooooooklahoma beware!!!!!

A plethora of unusual events has filled today's news, a sure sign that the horsemen of the apocalypse are just riding around in circles. What changes will occur due to the winds created by this cyclical gallop, only Mamou knows for sure. It is highly recommended that you wear your most powerful mojos over the next several weeks.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008


Welcome to the Great Triad. While I thought of requiring a $1000 initiation fee, I have decided to leave everything free for a while, in the interest of attracting adherents. If you have ever considered the possibility that Jesus just ran out of town to escape the authorities, uttered the forbidden yeyah, or deep fried the balls of the sacred cow, then you may just be interested in what I have to say. If you have even a semblance of faith in a traditional Godhead, please feel free to read on but lower your pretentious standards. It has always been my dream to piss off somebody bad enough that they ponder my assasination, but I'm not sure that at this advanced age, I have that much vitriol left in me. Anyway, let me intoduce you to the Great Triad, explain the role of the deities, and briefly expound upon the basic tenets of the faith.

The Great Triad consists of three main deities. In the ancient texts, they are only referred to as indecipherable, unpronounceable, and loosely translated 'just plain confusing'. In an effort to make it more palatable for Western adherents, I will henceforth refer to them as the Big Mamou, the Whole Shebang, and Komonawanaleia.

The Big Mamou is the god of randomness and chaos. He flits between the nothing and the everything, the unimagined and the unrealized. He is by far my favorite of the three. If you have any plans for surfing the space-time ripple, you should always have him at your side. When something bad happens at the wrong time, he is responsible. When something good happens at the wrong time look for his guidance as well. It is he who will determine whether this year's Biggest Loser victorette will use her vagina in the name of good or evil (On a similar note, he rules the flow of hormones in the menopausal realm). He is sort of the Higgs boson, the god particle, the goo through which possibilities pass on their journey from the ethereal to the earthly.

Komonawanaleia is the goddess of entropy. The more things change, the more she tries to maintain the status quo. She is the goddess of resistance. She does however possess great beauty and kindness, and is often depicted as Lauren Bacall, the most demure of them all. She provides a sense of place, a reassurance that all humans seem to require, a sense of permanence and a sense of well being. She is also the reason you would never buy a new car, or flat panel TV without telling your wife first. She can be very vengeful.

The Whole Shebang is the god/goddess of balance, sort of the divine superglue that holds it all together. The WS is the male-female, the yin and yang, the peanut butter and the jelly. The absence of WS influence in your life can obviously lead to turmoil. Lack of WS influence would clearly be the root cause of severe psychosis and most bipolar conditions as well as poor dental hygiene. However, and I can't stress this enough, it is necessary to push aside WS influence if you ever want to have any real fun.

The world according to the faith exists entirely in the key of D-flat, the natural key of wolves and whales, and perhaps all the natural world. While much of the worlds great music is written in other keys, this is clearly due to the varying influences of the Great Triad in the life of the writer/composer.

Lastly, I have declared the shinnery oak as the sacred tree of the Great Triad, in honor of a friend, a little weak in Mamou influence, but a friend worth having.

Recommendations for the inclusion of lesser deities is highly encouraged. However, I do reserve the right of veto