Saturday, November 21, 2015

Seeking Dessicated Thyranomine Root

I know there's some out there.

So far I have not been successful. Suggestions are appreciated.

Husband and I recently returned from our semi-annual Shamanistic Holiday Retreat where we spent a half-week chanting, breathing, and inhaling medicinal herb powders with a great collection of other Seekers and Initiates (the Canalic Water Treatment was especially enlightening).

Now that we're back home in our condo we've realized that we left our bag of medicinals behind. We were counting on that to see us through until May. Does anyone have a local source for T-Root? Doesn't have to be top quality — we just need some soon. (You know what I mean.)

Also, we have a 12-year-old grandson who should get out of the house for a while. Our Personal Shaman and Spirit Guide, Mungoo, doesn't take anyone under five feet tall, so he's out, and we do need someone pronto.

Little Harvey will be with us until February. We'll have to bleed off some of his excessive aural emanations before he peels all the paint off the walls and we lose it entirely. His parents haven't been able to manage, obviously, which is why we got him, and the situation is about to go critical.

Prefer an ecolodge jungle experience appropriate for pets or problem children, so we can send the H-Monster back to Wisconsin with a few stories but no visible scars, and a fair amount of plausible deniability on this end. Please let me know about low or reasonable cost Ayahuasca or Waa'Tiutnic Shamans you know personally. Moderate criminal record not a problem. (Misdemeanors preferred.)

We did look online and thought we had found a fairly reputable shaman suitable for pre-teens, but it turned out to be a Mr. Dieter A*** moonlighting from his regular gig at Rent A German.

True, he seemed nice enough at first but quickly formed what we decided was an unhealthy relationship with our Portuguese Weasel Mutt, TuTu. And he shed caapi bark all over the sofa. We couldn't have that either, so it was auf wiedersehen then, Dieter.

We're also looking to ditch TuTu. Beautiful dog, really, but getting to be a bother. Cosmic eyes, especially by candlelight. Very deep spirit. Looks good in pants, so a great dinner companion. Great around people too, especially the elderly, though will sometimes fall asleep on grannie's face (must remain alert for that, obviously). Children OK, mostly, depending on breed.

Likes his calico cat chew toy, so you will need to maintain a goodly supply of them. Stuffed water buffalo chew toy will do too, but has to be life-size. TuTu gets cranky otherwise and may attack without warning, but this is pretty rare now.

His only flaw, if you can call it that, is that he occasionally sneaks out at night to kill one of the neighbor's horses. So far no one has traced it back to us, but you ought to be warned. Sometimes goes after chickens too, maybe smaller children as well, but this is unconfirmed, so we're assuming the best.

Mostly lovable otherwise.

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Saturday, November 14, 2015

At Your Risk

Maybe it's just me.

I'm a dick, granted, from way back.

I'm awkward around people (live ones).

Dead ones, imaginary ones, distant ones — OK. I'm OK. I'm not so bad with them.

And cats.

But current ones? Live humans with pulses and up-to-date library cards, and capable of moving around and doing things, and expecting me to, no. I'm not good with them.

I'm not that quick on my feet. I interact poorly, if at all, then lie awake at night days, weeks, months, years, decades later, blushing in shame and confusion.

That's who I am.

But hey — don't walk in on me. Next time I'm gonna punch you, sucker.

Here are the rules you seem to live by, you people.

  1. If a door is open even an inch, that means that you can push and enter.
  2. There is no privacy let alone security, unless the door is both shut and locked.

Double-U Tee Eff, y'all! WTF!

Maybe it's how they do things here, maybe it's the times.

Maybe I really am a dick and don't know the basic rules. Well, I know I am a dick so that's not the issue, but still, expect a punch.

Don't expect an I'm sorry story. Expect a punch. Maybe two if I feel frisky.

You knock politely and wait, I'll come over. Politely. And see what's up.

Consider that I might be staying in a room with no other ventilation, and that maybe I have the door open an inch to let in a bit of air, OK? That's why when you push against it in an attempt to charge in, you get resistance, because my 40-pound duffel bag is sitting behind it.

When you can't easily swing the door open, that means STOP. It does not mean go get your biggest friend to come and help you push, seriously. Seriously.

And when you can easily swing the door open — don't anyway or I'll punch you twice anyway.

Don't with that stuff already — don't do it. I'm limbering up my good arm for when you come by again. I just want some air for crapsake.

Behave yourself. Back off once. That's all I got to say.

Especially if you are that guy over at Hogar Cuencano who stayed in that room next to mine, and went out on the little balcony and saw my door with the curtain hanging down inside and decided to walk in and there I was naked after my shower on the other side of the room and if I'd wanted to try keeping you out, all I could have done was run across the room wiggling my wobbler at you, right.


You do that again, I'm a whup ya. Whup ya straight up good and solid, Mister.

You have been warned.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Announcing G-Spot Beer!

I have a confession to make.

I have eaten bread. In the past, of course.

And that bread was made with wheat.

You know about wheat, right? I mean, if you've been reading this blog for any length of time then you know. Oh, yes, you know.

In fact, if you've been reading this blog for any length of time then you know everything. Everything that I've instructed you on so far, anyway. Of course you'll have to keep coming back for more instruction.

No one is perfect (except me of course), so my tutelage will of necessity continue without end. Because I know everything, and you, you should be grateful that you found me.

So now, back to bread. You have heard of it. You know what goes into it. You know that it will kill you because it is pure poison. So why would you eat it? Don't be a fool.

Just because humans have been consuming wheat and wheat by-products for thousands of years is no reason to continue this shameful practice. You may have parents who survived childhood years full of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, platters full of spaghetti, and bowls of chicken noodle soup, but this does not mean that they escaped unscathed.

Nor you.

It may take generations to gradually unwind the trauma that these meals have caused, and to unwind the damage, even in your own life, though you yourself have never been within ten feet of a cinnamon roll. Beware!

But sticky buns are not the only hazard. There is also beer.

Beer is good. You should drink beer whenever you can get it, and you should drink as much as you can hold. These are proven facts from scientific laboratories. However there is one problem. Beer (as it is habitually manufactured by giant multi-national companies) contains gluten.

Beer contains gluten because beer is made from barley. From barley, hops, water, and yeast. That is the full list of ingredients in the most basic and essential beers. Plus that gluten.

So here we are, sitting in paradise, on top of the Andes mountains in South America, without beer. Because beer contains gluten, and gluten is the most deadly poison in the world.

Well, I say let's just start a petition. Someone here should make gluten-free beer for us.

Since I'm retired, and don't feel like working any more, let alone putting my very own ass on the line by plunking down my life's savings to follow through on this idea, let's just get some Ecuadorians to do it for us.

As my good friend Roberts Terry said just yesterday,

I think an Ecuadorian craft brewery could do a nice bit of business in Ecuador with creating a tasty gluten-free beer - as long as it had decent distribution. You'd be the only gluten-free beer here, at least for a while.

In the US, even the monster, Budweiser, has a respectable gluten-free beer called Redbridge. Sure better than no beer at all on beautiful, warm days like we're enjoying.

We could name it after my two cats, Bojangles and Samwise.

This sounds great, all the more so if someone else takes the risk. And does the work.

So why don't some savvy locals go ahead and plunk down half a million or so to start up a no-gluten brewery, and if we feel like it we'll buy a bottle of their beer every now and then?

If we're in the mood.

Until the next food fad comes along.

We've been through fat and sugar already. Gluten came next, but I believe that gluten in fact was only an introduction to a whole new family of toxic and dangerous foods.

Me, I've got my eye on protein — all protein, not just gluten. Isn't it about time to eliminate protein from our diets entirely?

Each person's first responsibility has to be to preserve our precious bodily fluids. Beer does that of course, but only gluten-free beer.

And given enough clean, fresh, pure gluten-free beer, anything is possible. First the beer, then the protein.

Who's with me on this?

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Surprise Me


Bang. Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

This is life around midnight. It's Festival Time. That means fireworks.

Fireworks are things that explode.


Bang. Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Like that. Got it?

Want sleep, buy earplugs.

Can't find earplugs? Forgot to bring earplugs? Other stuff doesn't work? Like cotton wool, lint, cat fur, mozzarella, candle wax — well tough. Learn to sleep through it.

Or die trying.

Either method works.

And if you can't manage one of those, put on your party suit and get out there. They're expecting you.