Suckin up all you can suckin up all you can suck and suck.
Workin up under my patience like a little tick.
Fat little parasite.

Suuuuuck me dry.
My blood is bruised and borrowed. You thieving bastards.
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue!

Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.

I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on this.
I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on thiiiiiiiiiiiis.

Taken all I can taken all I can, we can take. Taken all you can taken all you can, we can take.
Got nothing left to give to you.
Blood suckin parasitic little blood suckin parasitic little blood suckin parasitic little tick!
Take what you want and then go.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.

[Parabol]
So familiar and overwhelmingly warm
This one, this form I hold now.

Embracing you, this reality here,
This one, this form I hold now, so
Wiide eyed and hoopeful.

Wiide eyed and hoopefully wild.
We barely remember what came before this precious moment,
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illuuuusion.

[Parabola]
We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are Choosing to be here, right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This hoooooly realityy, this hoooooly experience.
Choosing to be here in...
This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion.

Aliiiiive!

In this hoooooly reality, in this hoooooly experience. Choosing to be here in...
This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion...

Twirling round with this familiar parable.
Spinning, weaving round each new experience.
Recognize this as a holy gift and, celebrate this
(chance to beeeeee alive and breathing 2x)

This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality.
Embrace this moment. Remember. we are eternal.
all this pain is an illusion.

Stifling a yarn

In order to be remember and retold through the years, a story must be either fascinating, interesting, amusing, engrossing, intriguing – or all of these things. In an effort to render my usual public service, I now present the following stories…which are none of these! They’re under the series title “Stifling a Yarn”.

Frank was down to his last dollar. It had been his idea in the first place – the trip to Las Vegas for a “Second Honeymoon” – and now this had to happen. Marie, his wife, was still upstairs unpacking. She could hardly suspect that his stroll down for some fresh air had ended in total ruin for them over a dice table. The check he’d just written had accounted for everything they owned.

            Frank looked up from his last silver dollar, and saw the slot machine. It was one of those super-duper-special-bonus jobs which paid $5000 for $1 to the play who lined up the right three symbols. That was almost exactly how much he’d just lost. With a little luck…

Hands trembling, Frank inserted the dollar and pulled the handle. If he didn’t win, he would lose his business – his wife would divorce him – his children would hate him – and everyone else would despise him.

            The reels clicked to a stop with a bell –a cherry – and an orange.

            So he did – and she did – and they did – and everyone else did.

Everyone felt sorry for the poor old man who lived in the weather-beaten house on the corner, even though he wasn’t very sociable. In fact, he only opened the door once a month to receive groceries, for which he paid exactly $2.50, enough for three pounds of rice, a few cans of sardines and some dried apricots. But when he opened the door to get these pitiful supplies, neighbours glimpsed the wretched clothes he wore and the unkempt condition of the rooms behind him, and they couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

Then, one month, the old man didn’t answer the grocery delivery boy’s knock. Someone phoned for help. The police came and found him lying in a mildewed cot surrounded by piles of litter and junk. A doctor pronounced the old man dead of malnutrition.

Afterwards, the police searched for a clue to any relatives they should notify. Just as they were about to give up sifting through old magazines and newspaper and bits of string and tin cans, an officer noticed a loose board in the floor.

“Hey,” he called, “look at this!” He pulled away the board, stuck his arm into the dark hole, and extracted a small, black, dog-eared bank book. He opened it slowly.

“Well I’ll be switched!” he said, and paused it to the next man. Each in turn took the book, read, and muttered incredulously.

For there, carefully lettered on the page left after the last withdrawal had been and the book cancelled, was a recipe for rice, sardine and dried apricot casserole.

In order to be remember and retold through the years, a story must be either fascinating, interesting, amusing, engrossing, intriguing – or all of these things. In an effort to render my usual public service, I now present the following stories…which are none of these! They’re under the series title “Stifling a Yarn”.

 

The Big Tipper

By Matthew Goulet

 

            The taxi screeched to a halt. Aaron Smeed threw his suitcases inside and dived after them.

            “To the airport,” he cried, “and hurry!”

            While the cab lurched through traffic, Aaron got his money ready. He put the five dollar bill in his right pocket – for the cabby, and the hundred dollar bill in his left pocket – for the plane ticket. He looked at his watch anxiously. He was cutting it pretty close.

            The taxi stopped and Aaron jumped out, juggling his luggage. He jammed a hand in his pocket and tossed the driver the bill, then ran for the ticket counter as the cab roared away.

            “Gee, what a generous guy,” the cab driver said to him self as he drove back to town. “The fare was only $3.50, and he gave me a five dollar bill.”

 

 

Don’t get me wrong, we here at In Blog we Trust love animals. In fact, I am a vegan. Animal lovers, on the other hand, frequently piss me off. Should we really shed a tear for the executed rat on Survivor? Must we feel the intense guilt at the mere purchase of a ham sandwich? Should we really be concerned about the rights and living conditions of laboratory paramecia? Long answer short, yes to all of the above.

 

Pardon me, I don’t mean to beat a dead horse (so to speak!), but some wildlife fanciers at People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) just take things too far. Although the statements made are by no means based on factual evidence, and at times are of satirical nature, some of the issues raised are actually argued for by PETA members.

 

Only a true PETA extremist …

 

• …Would describe disrupting a night crawler hunt as a noble step towards “bait rights”
• …Would handcuff himself to a doomed heifer
• …Would care for a freed lab animal that’s trying to quit smoking
• ...Will try to reason with a mosquito
• …Fires off a stream of angry e-mails to his MP upon the discovery that they’re using roaches to test roach poison
• …Wills his body to wildlife nutrition
• …Will stay up for three straight days to draft a “Bill of Rights” for clams
• …Pickets the set of the latest Star Wars sequel until he’s convinced that no computer generated alien wildlife was harmed during the production
• …Will fret more about the dairy cow that produced the milk than the missing ten-year-old pictured on the carton.

In the great circle of life, as one thing dies, another is born to take its place. And so it was with the great rock and roller Elvis Presley. Almost immediately after his death, a bevy of Elvis impersonators were born to fill our primal need to watch a sweaty, gyrating guy in a sequined jumpsuit. Sadly, many of these impersonators are now a bit past their prime and are suffering the slings and arrows that frequently accompany old age. Many of these hardworking performers have simply been forgotten, cast off to the dustbin of showbiz. But you’ll remember, when Matt exposes… heartbreaking problems of aging Elvis impersonators.

 

1)      Elvis’ trademark motto “T.C.B.” has, sadly, become just another everyday nursing home staff code word.

2)      Few, if any, health care plans provide for the nearly bi-monthly hip replacements due to the legendary Elvis dance moves.

3)      There are currently no provisions to allow aging Elvis impersonators to die with dignity, on their own toilet.

4)      Frequent memory lapses cause him more and more to forget why he “left the building”

5)      The classic Elvis lip curl now causes previously unforeseen problems, such as the falling out of dentures.

6)      A society conditioned to choose between “skinny Elvis” and “Fat Elvis” is simply unprepared to add “Dementia-Addled Elvis” to the mix.

7)      There is woefully inadequate funding to provide grilled peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches in the Meals on Wheels program.

8)      The overwhelming depression that sometimes accompanies Male Pattern Sideburn Baldness.

9)      The lines of the classic Elvis jumpsuit simply cannot stand up to the rigors of a fully-loaded, heavy-duty Depends.