MARCH 2014
Thought for the Month
"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and
His punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."
"There are only two tragedies in life:
one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."
"Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes."
Oscar Wilde
2
Sabbath Sermonette
"I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: 'O Lord, make my enemies ridiculous.' And God granted it."
Voltaire
7
BOBISM, the Juxtaposition of Prayer and Retail
Well, The Bob returns to the City of Lights in less than three weeks to carve out a creative life. My recent sojourn in the nation's capital has only reinforced my desire to become a Parisian. In L.A. if you're not part of the film industry then you live on an odd periphery watching maniacal capitalists make inane flicks solely for the money with the random, insightful film thrown in. Similarly, in D.C., if you are not part of the political landscape then you live on an odd periphery watching rabidly ambitious megalomaniacs backstabbing each other on the ascent to power while making gratuitous pronouncements of altruism. For me, the tedium of WDC is draining and yet in Paris, one immediately becomes part of a tableau vivant. But alas, I must create boatloads of money, literally, for my new Parisian adventure. L. Ron Hubbard taught us that the way to make a million dollars is to start a Ponzi scheme or a religion. Lightning has struck. The Bob has founded a new religion that combines spirituality with rampant capitalism -- and no sin! It is called BOBISM or, Pray Equals Pay. Everything you pray for is on sale! (I am also in the market for some devoted disciples on a monthly subscription basis.) BOBISM will set Paris afire. In the meantime, the apartment is sublet, my digs in Paris' 20th arrondissement await, and I shall soon be off. Oscar Wilde once said, "When good Americans die, they go to Paris." What more is there to say? Stay tuned for a fantastical religious experience!
9
Sabbath Sermonette
“There ain't no answer. There ain't gonna be any answer. There never has been an answer. There's your answer.”
Gertrude Stein
10
Breaking News, Mar. 10, 2014, 9:33 a.m.
Exacerbatation of Puns after Sen. Cruz Rushed to Hospital with Tea Vomit
Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) has just been taken to the Ronald Reagan Memorial Hospital after vomiting English Breakfast tea while speaking at the Reagan Evangelical Political Union Konservative Conference (REPUKE). Sen. Cruz started ejecting a tea-colored substance from the stomach through the mouth as he railed against the ‘liberal’ policies of Gov. Rick Perry (R-Texas). Those sitting in the first row scampered towards the doors and away from the tea-erupting senator in a panic not seen since the gay republicans stormed the conference. Mr. Cruz turned to Sarah Palin (Bull Moose-AK) who was sitting behind him on the dais, and covered her with what could only be described as Earl Grey discharge. Gov. Palin responded in a muffled voice, “this is the same tea I see them drink in Russia.” Meanwhile, former Sen. Rick Santorum (R-PA) was screaming that his name had nothing to do with either tea or sodomy. The tea continued to flow en route to the hospital even though the senator had cupped his mouth. As he passed by the statue of Ronald Reagan in front of the hospital, he whispered, amid gagging, "my hero." Some by-standers, however, believe they heard him say, "lemon, no honey." More on this kettle of tea as events, steeped in uncertainty, unfold.
12
RealLife Satire
(When Life Becomes a Parody of Itself)
I inadvertently happened upon a blog site that talks about toy urinals being sold in Japan. Not only are they sold - just like dollhouse furniture - but one man found a way to make a toy urinal actually work and there is a short video detailing his methodology. You just can't make this stuff up! Check it out at https://kotaku.com/heroic-man-makes-working-toilet-for-his-toys-1536789314
On a related bizarre note, Zach Galifianakis interviews President Obama on his Funny or Die show, "Between Two Ferns." There is no longer any line whatsoever between reality and its varied opposites. (N.B. Zach Gali.... is a very very funny person.)
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Sabbath Sermonette
"My story is the story of countless millions of children whose families and nations were torn apart for money in the name of Jesus Christ...... I'm proud to be a troublemaker...... I don't feel like me unless I have my hair shaved. So even when I'm an old lady, I'm going to shave it."
Sinead O'Connor
17
Saints and Snakes of the Emerald Isle
According to legend, St. Patrick, the patron saint of the Emerald Isle of Ireland, banished all the snakes from the country, chasing them into the sea after they attacked him during a 40-day fast. The true story, however, is of a far more depraved 40-hour period and has been hidden for over 16 centuries until recently. Last Easter, gold and emerald-encrusted papyrus documents were found under the famed Blarney Stone. The Irish government immediately put the documents under lock and key fearing another Easter Rising. They will be released today, March 17, the 1,553rd anniversary of the death of the popular saint. The story is like a dazzling green gemstone.
Patrick was born in Roman Britain and at the age of 16 he was kidnapped by a group of Irish pirates and brought to Ireland as a slave. He had to work as a lowly shepherd in County Antrim spending his days in spiritual contemplation and masturbation. In the course of time Patrick met a young woman named Brigit who, unbeknownst to Patrick, was a pagan goddess. Every afternoon Brigit came to see Patrick and they talked for hours. She had blonde hair that shone in the sun with emerald eyes that danced when she smiled. Patrick fell madly in love with her; he was consumed with both love and lust. Brigit knew she had him under her spell. Late one afternoon, she took Patrick to a nearby cave that she called the Emerald City. Deep inside they came to a large rock altar covered with shamrocks. Brigit lay down on the altar and motioned for Patrick to get on top of her. He started to kiss her all over her body and as he did so he was carried away in a tornado of lust. They made passionate love for 40 hours of debauchery and then fell asleep side by side. When Patrick awoke, Brigit was gone. He started to panic wondering if it had all been a dream or a nightmare. He then heard a shrill, piercing laugh and when he looked up there was Brigit but instead of her blond hair there were snakes surrounding her head and her emerald eyes melted into a hideous green face before him. She screamed, “I am the granddaughter of Medusa and I am going to have your love child!” Patrick knew that if he looked directly at her, he would turn to stone so he ran and ran until he reached the emerald-green sea while Brigit chased him from above. Patrick started to swim and Brigit swooped down to attack him. She didn’t know that the water would cause her to melt away (a common cause of death for wicked, green-faced witches.) Patrick grabbed her and held her under the emerald-green water until she ceased to move and he saw the snakes slither from her head and vanish out to sea, to be seen no more.
Patrick came ashore, exhausted, and as he rested, the Brigit he knew with the blond hair and the emerald eyes rose from the sea and walked toward him like a virgin aglow in an emerald-green aura. But Patrick now feared and despised her and her sex. He screamed at her that he would never have sex with a woman again and ran to the first monastery he could find -- where he knew there would be no chance of sex with a woman. And he prayed and ate corned beef and cabbage and prayed and made Irish cream whiskey and prayed and sang "Danny Boy" and prayed until he died on March 17, 493 as he watched the lord descend on an emerald-green cloud. Shortly thereafter he was made a saint and that is how St. Patrick chased the snakes out of the Emerald Isle and established his place in Irish history.
Meanwhile, Brigit was devastated by Patrick’s rejection and she became a prostitute for the Irish pirates, calling herself "the Emerald Kitten." As she aged and lost her looks, she was shunned from the pirate world. She spent the rest of her days in a nunnery until she died from what we now know as syphilis. As her mind deteriorated, she thought she saw St. Patrick and the lord descending on an emerald-green cloud but she was insane and finally died circa 524. Thanks to her evil ancestry, the legend of St. Patrick and the snakes was born. For her sacrifice, she became St. Brigit, the junior saint of Ireland and patron of syphilitics. This is why the Irish men drink so much on St. Patrick’s Day. They can’t take the chance of looking the women they pick up in the eye and turning to stone. And the Irish women feed drinks to the men so they won't have to worry about sex and syphilis.
N.B. In another ironic twist, Brigit did give birth to her love child with St. Patrick. She called the child Osgar the Wild who turned out to be the ancester of a famous Irish writer.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
19
The end of a vile Winter and its gloom...
In February 1992, I descended into the Underworld, like Orpheus, but with neither purpose nor design. [Part 2 of 2]
Death in February (Part 2)
Forever is such a long time to yearn
Our interlude was but three brisk years
Racked with questions of time and manner
Doom provokes such volatility
As it wrests control and obscures purpose
Never prefaced our respite
I see those dazzling blue eyes
Every time I hear your name in song or prose
Love is so queer
Stupidity even more so
Or was it just unmitigated fear
That silenced my love for you
On that January day in ‘89
Magic happened in an instant
At first sight, desire
You bewitched the room
Or maybe it was just I
Reeling from charisma
While coveting such intimacy.
Inaugural day and we taunted George as we
Twinkled through a chilly morning
How joyful it was to cavort, conspire in unison
Gamboling like midsummer sprites
Relishing the unfamiliar
Ever and ever flowed those days.
Artist, prophet, rebel, wit
Transforming the windy city
Linchpin of acting up
Of inciting the corrupt to profess wrongdoing
Vexing the pols, the docs, the pros
Even the daily mayor himself
Anno Domini
Nineteen-ninety-two
Death won after a valiant standoff
Immunologically deficient
Mighty as you fought
Majestic in your victories
Ecstatic from each breakthrough
Notorious for your resolve
Subsiding only from diminished potency and
Exhaustion of terminal farewells
Sincerity and compassion commingling with
Acquired conditions of consumption
Danny, the grief is permanent
Nothing alleviates the emptiness or
Evinces repair of a gouging isolation
Sadness does not dissipate
So much as enhance memories in its wake.
20
The commencement of Spring and its reawakening...
23
Sabbath Sermonette
Calvin: Isn’t it strange that evolution would give us a sense of humor? When you think about it, it’s weird that we have a physiological response to absurdity. We laugh at nonsense. We like it. We think it’s funny. Don’t you think it’s odd that we appreciate absurdity? Why would we develop that way? How does it benefit us?
Hobbes: I suppose if we couldn’t laugh at things that don’t make sense, we couldn’t react to a lot of life.
Calvin: (after a long pause) I can’t tell if that’s funny or really scary.
Calvin: They say the world is a stage. But obviously the play is unrehearsed and everybody is ad-libbing his lines.
Hobbes: Maybe that’s why it’s hard to tell if we’re living in a tragedy or a farce.
Calvin: We need more special effects and dance numbers.
Calvin: Who was the first guy that looked at a cow and said, “I think that I’ll drink whatever comes out of those things when I squeeze them?"
Calvin and Hobbes, 1985 - 1995
29
The Bob is back home in Paris! FYI, Icelandair makes economy class pay for everything -- food, alcohol, headphones, wifi -- except for cheap non-alcoholic drinks. Will go back to Air France which, while crowded, is very customer- service oriented. For my return to the city of lights, a short ode has been written. (Next week: the founding of the Church of J. Christ, Financier. Don't miss it!)
Gertrude's Stepson
At last I see Paris
Not the one of Stein and Hemingway
Or Beckett and Baldwin
The Paris I see is all mine
Harking to me like nimble sirens of old
Eerily seducing me with that transcendent charm
Rendering me helpless in her presence
And yet, I grow stronger
Mesmerized by beauty, elegance, joie de vivre
Enmeshed in an unabashed world of aesthetic eruptions
Reinvented and reformulated with each passing decade
Into that juxtaposition of antiquity and modernity
Creativity exudes from her pores like No. 5 on a little black dress
And so too must I ooze such fragrant originality
No more desperate paperwork in a cubicle of despair
I can't kill what tiny shards of soul I may have left
Nor forsake a latent career as I have yet to have one
Perhaps my time is now — before I lose my looks!
And what better place than the heart of Europe
Rimbaud, Cocteau, Sartre, Saint-Exupery
I descend into enchantment like a prestidigitateur
Savoring it like a French pastry
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Sabbath Sermonette
"Love...no such thing. Whatever it is that binds families and married couples together, that's not love. That's stupidity or selfishness or fear. Love doesn't exist. Self interest exists, attachment based on personal gain exists, complacency exists. But not love. Love has to be reinvented, that’s certain.”
Arthur Rimbaud (Cynic)
31
The weather in Paris today was a balmy 66. My jet lag has ended. I learned how to get a metro smartcard. There is an exciting new religion (not Bobism) that I will soon present to all you seekers of recession-proof spirituality. I am confident it will be a huge hit. Otherwise, life in the lit city is back to normal and extremely pleasant. Today, the Eiffel Tower celebrated its 125th birthday. https://travel.yahoo.com/blogs/compass/march-31--1889--the-eiffel-tower-is-completed-in-paris-180836514.html
The Eiffel Tower in 1889.