Journey Into the Bizarre

It was vividly real.  He was standing just a mere couple of feet away from me, sputtering his illogical rhetoric, pausing only long enough to take a breath. That's when I got a word in edge wise.

His pompous ego has never allowed him to accept any kind of advice from anyone, though in the past, he's always claimed to have the bestest and the bigliest people on hand to provide him with the greatest guidance.  Today, we all know this to be bullshit, as well.

This, however, was a dream.  I know it was a dream, because for one, I awoke from this bizarre scenario about ten minutes ago, but the situation that took place, as I've stated, seemed so vividly real.  A second clue would be how strange the event, if you can describe it as such, was.  It involved mowing a lawn.  Personally, I don't care to mow my lawn, but do so out of necessity.  I'm allergic to grass, so each endeavour is met with a lot of sneezing, wheezing and hacking.  In the dream, none of this was happening.  Third clue, was that the "Tangerine Tyrant", himself, was mowing his own lawn and mine, as well, as a courtesy.  Of what I know, common courtesy is not a trait that this individual possesses.  Nonetheless, there he was.  Wearing his trademark dark suit and overly long red tie, pushing a small lawn mower across a field of matted gold-coloured grass, leaving a swath barely touched behind him.  On this day, I met the acting "president" of the United States, Mr. Donald John Trump.

The lawn was thick and matted, gold in colour, rather than a lush green like most well-kept lawns are known to be.  It was a terrible mess, the underbrush pulling it close to the earth, not allowing the decrepit mechanical device that Trump was attempting to use, to cut it.  The trail of which his machine left behind, was barely noticeable, but the look of accomplishment on his face was second to none.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the billionaire began his legacy with a mere $14 million dollar loan from his father, Frederick Trump. (On a side note, I just learned this... Fred Trump's middle name was Christ.  How f*cking pompous is that?  Oh the ego that f*cker must have had.)  However, being spoiled and rich his whole life, I doubt Donald J. Trump has ever known an honest day's work in his entire life. Chalk that up as another hint that this was a bizarre dream concocted in my own head.

The lawn, as described, was golden yellow in colour.  It was thick and seemed to be growing back on itself.  It was reminiscent of Donald's hair.  Well coiffed, but wild in it's nature.  The mower that Trump was sweating over, was a standard manual push reel mower that was barely making a dent. His efforts rivaling the ineffectual nature of his presidency.  To my left, I had a newer gas mower, primed and running, but I could still overhear Trump's vexing exasperating grunts in the distance as he disappeared around a small building.  I took it upon myself to tackle the lawn with my modernized machine, successfully removing several inches of tangled lawn, in the process.

Hearing the roar of my gas-powered lawn mower as it cut a deep trench through the patch that he'd already "mowed", Mr. Trump came storming around the corner.  No one has seen him move with such urgency since he was going for a second piece of chocolate cake at his Mar-a-Lago resort in Florida.  Apparently the chocolaty treat is quite rich and delicious. (Much like Trump fancies himself.*)

The man was quite adamant, viciously attacking me, arguing that his method was the correct way to tackle the situation, despite the side-by-side comparison existing before us.  It was only when he paused to inhale, powering up for another relentless barrage of insults to fling at me, that I was able to explain that the RPMs on the gas mower, far exceeded that of the manual reel mower that he was struggling with.

I explained to the huffing and puffing Donald Trump how Revolutions Per Minute working in conjunction with mowing a lawn.  Wiping the white spittle that had formed in the corner of his mouth, Trump paused to learn a lesson in basic physics, learning that the over 3000-plus rpm's of my machine far exceeded the maybe 800 to 1000 rpm's that he was fighting to get out of his dulled archaic gadget.

As the realization warmed over his face, the mad man began to smile, as if he'd just discovered the wheel.  Now he was boasting to a small crowd that was forming, how he'd discovered this new futuristic implement that can be used to mow one's lawn.

Yeah.  That sounds like a real Trump-ism. Take credit for shit that already exists.  On that note, Trump flung his old reel mower, like a three year old having a tantrum, and walked off, leaving me alone in a field of yellowed grass.  Thank goodness, this is when I woke up, because as I said in the third paragraph, I hate mowing the lawn.  Even if it's in a dream.

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*Trump fancies himself to be like his favourite pastries. Rich and delicious.
Why else would he turn himself into a human-sized marshmallow? 😆

Chuckles Mohammed

When I first conceived today's blog, it differed greatly in content then, from what it does today.  At first glance, the shootings that occurred yesterday in France, appeared to be the usual bullshit of angry religious zealots over-reacting to some kind of crap about the Prophet Mohammed being depicted publicly.  I cited the on one of the posted media blurbs, the ridiculousness of these Muslim terrorists (and those like them) who took aim at South Park's Trey Parker and Matt Stone a few years ago, when they had the Prophet Mohammed appear on an episode of South Park wearing a bear suit.  I went on to explain that Muslims lack a sense of humour.

It's amazing what you can find when you type in certain word into the search page of Google.  If you type two words: Laughing Muslims, then switch to the Images page, you find several pictures of toothy grinned Middle Easterners engaged in hearty belly-jiggling laughter.  These few images have taught me that Muslims do have a sense of humour.  I don't know the context of which these few folks are laughing.  Maybe it's at camels or goats, I'm not judging.  I doubt it's at a comedic depiction of their religious icons.  I don't know.

I've also learned, through this tragedy, that the knee-jerk reaction by the majority is...  Well...  It's really quite tragic, and that's putting it mildly.  I read on several message boards today, the condoning of complete annihilation of the Muslim people.  Comments ranging from "Islam is a Satan worshiping religion", "remove all the Muslims of the world" & "kill them all", just to name the less vile entries.  I'm guilty of similar thoughts following the events on 9/11, saying words like "we gotta barbecue their kids".  I was younger then and in a different frame of mind.  Reading these comments yesterday and today, I was horrified.

I replied to some of the despicable comments left, stating that if we, as a people, were to respond with ethnic genocide, we'd be no better than the terrorists who attacked and killed those people in France.  I went on to explain that these few tyrants do not speak for the entirety of the Islam nation.  That throughout history, individuals have been bastardizing religion to fit their own agendas.  David Koresh of the Branch Davidians fancied himself as the second coming of Christ.  I don't know exactly what the f*ck Hitler's deal was, but he obliterated millions of Jews on some kind of religious and ethnic cleansing.  Both f*cking whack-jobs, to say the least.  Bin Laden was another psychopath and these latest fools, Said and Cherif Kouachi are no different.

It's written that to discourage idolatry of the Prophet Mohammed, that his image is strictly forbidden.  Any images of him, his face should be shrouded and covered.  I've heard it said that he was just a man and as such that he never wished for any praise that might take away from God.  Sounds noble, in it's essential simplicity.  I'm not a religious man, myself, nor have I ever claimed to be.  So, personally, I don't know what to believe.

What I do believe, however, is that these people, the religious fundamentalists, need to form a sense of humour.  The target of yesterday's blood bath in France, was a French satirical, low publication newspaper called Charlie Hebdo, which featured jokes, cartoons, polemics, and reports, in  an irreverent and stridently non-conformist tone.  They were notorious for featuring comical depictions of the Prophet Mohammed, a notoriety that was known the world over.  They also poked fun at Catholicism, Judaism, Islam, culture and politics.  Everything was published in fun and aimed to be anti-racist.  Basically, if you had a sense of humour, it'd make you laugh.  These sick f*cks, Said and Cherif, apparently don't have a sense of humour.  It's been my experience that people who can't laugh are inherently dangerous.

What makes this shit all the more heinous, news reports since this tragedy, seem to have minute by minute details on these two in the years leading up to their attack yesterday.  What I fail to understand is how is it possible that officials know what these monsters were up to before they attacked and killed twelve people in Paris, yesterday?  I'm literally scratching my head.

I know that the few don't represent the many.  I don't hold the entire Muslim community responsible, but for f*ck sake, these people aren't stupid.  We westerners can spot a crack-pot when we lay eyes on them.  Why can't the Muslim majority spot these nuts and single them out?  They have to know that by doing so, it'll paint themselves and the Nation of Islam in a more positive light.  They frown upon U.S. military putting boots on the ground and policing them.  So police yourselves and hand these f*ckers over.  Save yourselves.  Save everyone.  Let us all live in harmony.... and share a laugh or two.

Number Two Ain't No Shit

F*CK!  I love that word.  I use that word frequently, though when written [typed], I do choose to censor it by substituting the U with an asterisk (*).  However, saying the F-word, "F*CK", seems gratifying.  Not only that, but I love the versatility of the word "f*ck".  It can be a noun, verb, adjective, or my personal favourite, almost every word in a sentence: "F*ck the f*cking f*ckers!"  It's many uses is covered in an online parody found on YouTube, it's origins are unknown, but who really gives a f*ck? It's f*ckin' funny as all hell. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSEXgQ58AoM]

In all it's genius, the word "f*ck" tends to offend many people, especially the plethora of bible-thumping folks that I work with.  I don't know why, I'm almost pretty sure the word pre-dates Christ, himself.  As if he never screamed out "F*ck!" when they were hammering spikes through his hands at his crucifixion.  I know if it were me, I would've had a few choice words to share, but I digress.  It is only for these few people (at work) that I make the sacrifice and avoid the excessive usage of the F-word.  More for the avoidance of judgemental looks and alike.  Unfortunately, in the avoidance of uttering this word, I find I'm unable to truly be myself, and THAT kinda f*ckin' sucks.

As much as I love to voice the F-word, loudly and proudly, believe it or not, it is not my most favourite word in the English language.  My favourite, may come as a shock to some.  My most favourite word to use is: EXTRAVAGANZA!!!  It's just fun to say, especially when really emphasized, ex-TRAVA-GAN-za.  My daily life doesn't require it's use very often, which may be why I enjoy the word so much.  It's not common and it's definitely not run-of-the-mill.  If I choose to say the word, it's for something truly special, and I don't have many of those days either.

So that was my number one word, and f*ck was my number two.  That is.., until recently.  A few short days ago, I came to realize that there was a new number two.  F*ck had been pushed back to third place.  A bronze f*cking medal.  The new silver recipient was tremendous.

Actually, that IS the word, number two on my list: TREMENDOUS.  I've used it for years, often describing a mishap involving myself.  Like an injury I sustained a couple years ago, from a fall which had me land with a 'tremendous thud', all the way to the present when I last had a migraine forcing me to miss work; "I woke up this morning with a tremendous headache which requires heavy medication..."

On the way home from work, I tried to round out my top five favourite words, but I found myself unable to do so.  I love the word FREE, but I can't decide if it's the word itself that I'm enamoured with or the concept, because I really do love free shit!  I also like the word 'motherf*cker', but can't decide if that should be included with 'f*ck', as it IS a variation of the word 'f*ck'...  I wish there were some kind of verbal guru I could enlist to help guide me in shaping my Top 5 words.

Even now...  I sit back, hands clasped behind my head, looking up into the corner of the room, I can't think of any other words.  Maybe I only have a top three.  Bah.  F*ck it!  Who really gives a shit?!?