Things To Do Before You Die!

Another ABC, but this time as a list.  Ooh, we love lists…

Allow myself to do something dirty.
Blow Trevor.
Cruise in the Bahamas.
Discover what it’s like to have three wives.
Eight guys at once!
Find the little man in the sailboat.
Gestate.
Happen upon a treasure map.
Invent a new language.
Jump off a cliff into water.
Keel-haul with penile pirates.
Let somebody else drive for a change.
Make James pay for the damage to my soul.
Name a disease.
Own a medium-sized country.
Put it in the action figure cave.
Queef one million times.
Rock out with your cock out.
Seduce a kindergarten teacher.
Take candy from a baby.
Unearth El Dorado.
Virginity:  reclaim it.
Wrangle baby kittens for charity.
X-rays: get them, look at them, show them to your friends.
Yank on a fart.
Zap zappable things!

For those who are curious, “action figure cave” will become clear in the next posting.  We talked a lot about fetishes this week.  Strange, dangerous and downright wrong.  The biggest realization that I had is this:

“No matter what you are doing – at any given point during the day – someone, somewhere is will to jerk off to it.”

Think about that for awhile.  Better yet, don’t.  Just act natural.  Sure.

-BRP

Back on track

I know there was a bit of a break there. Needed to save my energy for ZombiEaster (I’m stickin’ with that excuse). I’m back and we’ve got a backlog of stuff to post! Yikes! We will begin with… a story… an ABC story, that is!

At dawn, the boy set out for the canyon.
Before he left, he kissed his mother for the last time.
“Criminy!” he ejaculated, his eyes wide with shock.
“Did that really just happen?”
“Ew dammit, let’s… let’s pretend it didn’t.”
“For the love of all that is mayo, I don’t understand.”
“Great Gatsby, you don’t have to!” I yelled.
Had I whispered, it might have been lost in the roaring wind.
I gathered my courage and screamed at the top of my lungs.
Just as my voice reached the sky, it happened!
“KRAKOW! Krakow!” answered the murderous thunder.
Lightening crashed and unicorns danced!
Men cried out in fear of a unicorn horn through the heart.
No knight was strong of spirit enough to face the magic.
Occult powers are strong!
Please don’t strike me down with your doom machine.
Queen Amadala will avenge me!
“Rock on!”
“Shazam!” roared Shazam.
Then Shazam brought forth baby kittens.
Underestimate the baby kittens and bleed from the eyes.
“Vile,” she said, “How could anyone do such a thing?”
“With great pleasure,” he replied coyly.
“‘Xactly who do you think you’re addressing, boy?”
“You, sir. You.”
Zombies shambled about us, eating away our flesh, our words… our lives.

-the end

I’m not sure what it means, but I’m happy Shazam showed up (even though his name is ‘Captain Marvel’… sheesh!).

There were a whole bunch of other things we talked about. Mostly, I recall discussing the ZombiEaster film line up. There are two other amazing things though:

‘Jager-Schlager’: The man’s man’s manly drink of DOOM.

‘Milkgina’: I think that’s self-explanatory, thank you.

Cheers!

-BRP

A B Cs of Evergreen

Anarchy begins with dreds, ends with graduation
Bullshit!
Come to seminar and listen to stoned babbling
Didactic, pedantic love finkle
Everyone has Issues…
Faculty with strange backgrounds
Ganga!
Here, burn this sweetgrass, your aura is smelly
I feel that racism is everywhere – especially at the North Pole
Just ’cause you’re smelly doesn’t mean you’re right
Kick back and become Aware
Large dropout rate
Maybe I’ll go for a dual focus; Awareness and Russian History
Never live in a kitchen-less dorm!
Organized resistance opposed to organic oppression
Pure minds get released among the crowd
Queer & here… & there… & there too
Red Square is neither red, nor square
Stupid, pointless classes
Trustifarians have all the good drugs, man
Urban sustainability
Vegan variance
Why isn’t anyone as politically correct as me?
X-rated interpretive dance is frowned upon
Young Republicans hunted like witches
Zambone-a-tron is my new legal name
Ñyet, I say, Ñyet
© my reflection paper – it’s that good
Über-trustafarians forswear bathing, until Daddy’s money dries up

Ok, ok – before anyone gets their nose outta joint, I may need to point out this little fact: about 80% of the folks who worked on this are current or former students at TESC. Ok? Chillax. Of course, the main thrust of this particular piece is dwelling on the negative, but that’s just the way art IS sometimes.

Really, it’s not Evergreen itself that we were bitching about. It wasn’t even the students. More, it was the strange mindset that some students seem to fall into. You know the kind… The change their name to something terrible, or renounce their citizenship, or go to jail for rioting and destroying a police car… and then they blame their problems on “the System”. Let me give you all a little piece of wisdom:

“Unless you’re in the hills, stockpiling weapons, you are workin’ for the Man.”

Cheers!

-BRP

This one’s a keeper, folks

Our Father, who art in Colombia
Juan Valdez be his name
His burro come
His sack is full, on the mountain as it is in the valley
Give us this day our daily bean
And forgive us our decaf, as we forgive those who decaf against us
And lead us not into latte
But deliver us from Starbucks
For thine is the roaster and the grinder and the percolator
Forever and ever, until 2 AM

This may be the most important blog post I have ever made.  Truly, this is a sublime piece of work.   I don’t think it’s hyperbole at all to say that this blog post could change the course of human history, for all time.  Oh no.

…

We actually had a lot of good conversation this week.  The air was thick with stories about abuse of authority, personal struggles with autonomy-vs-society and our favorite college in the world, Evergreen.  Really, there was a lotta bitching, but I took a lot away from it.  Here’s the topics that I remember, for those of you keeping score at home:

• Anarchy vs. Chaos
• Anarchy vs. Sustainable communities
• ‘real’ Anarchy vs. ‘fake’ Anarchy
• Trust-fund  radicals (Trustafarians)
• Baby names (‘The’, ‘The Dude’, ‘Raul’, etc.)
• Small people with badges
• If you somehow were to confront a perfect copy of yourself, would you have sex with yourself? Would that be wrong?  Is it gay? Is it hot? How is that any different from masturbation? HUH? You’re so smart, maybe you have all the answers, huh?
• Drugs
• Sex

That is all I’ve got.  I’m sorry.  Next time, maybe we’ll throw together a little multi-media affair.  Some kind of a coffee-fueled podcast.  Maybe.  I’ll post the other thing we did last night tomorrow.  Promise.*

-BRP
(*promise void where prohibited by laws of thermodynamics or douchebaggery)

Birthday Haiku!

Narcissus – the birth flower for March.  Aptly named, for all you Pisces/Aries types?

a birthday so sweet
for the girl with the pink hat
with the short short hair

effervescent pink
happy birthday,  sexy bitch
you’re all kinds of old!

I’m a birthday cat
please rub my fuzzy belly
rub it now or DIE!

wee baby kittens
jumping and playing with stuff
endless soft touches

birthdays are like sex
wet, sticky and sometimes hot
baby kitten pie

you are the killer
of all that is Hobbit-like
magic and whispers

life spinning you by
like sand through the hourglass bitch
that’s what it’s about

pie, pie, pie and cake!
benedict and such happy
Hobbits are skittles

I can’t pretend that any of that makes any sense, but that’s you problem.  Oh, did you want some logic and formalism with your surreal poetry?  Maybe if you cry hard enough, Salvador Dali will come by and slap you with a fish.  Or maybe a tiny painting of a fish.  That’ll teach you.  CURB YOUR EXPECTATIONS! {[,]l[,]}

Um, I mean… I hope you liked those.   Yeah.

-BRP

Dear Gary Gygax…

In honor of the O.G. D.M., we present this surrealist letter.  Enjoy.

Dear Dungeon Master,
It’s you fault I’m a geek.  For my first game, I made my mother cry.  She deserved it – no one spills Mountain Dew and then gives me a time out!
Back to you, though.  You are my “Mommy Dearest” of gaming.  My Led Zepplin of gansta dice rollin’.  I remember the dark days of the barbarian horde acid tests.  Those blurred times of natural twenties and funions drove me to natural lovin’.  My magic sword of bugbear attraction.  What happened next made me shake in my tunic.
The reason I’m writing you is that you’re dead.  Roll in peace, in open-ended critical heaven –

(heart)
(name withheld)

As a bonus, I’m going to post this chart.  If you’ve never seen it before… well, you haven’t missed much.  But it is pretty damned funny.

Cheers!  I’ll post some more stuff tomorrow!

-BRP