The pages on the calendar are peeling off like the skin on a rotten banana. Catch your breath……it’s 2012 and you know what that means!

    Many believe, that the world concert being played right now, is coming to its finale as far as the human race is concerned. It will soon be the end of time as we know it. It is the date when our sun reaches the Galactic Equator of the Milky Way, (Known as the Sacred Tree.) The time will be, 11:11 a.m. ‘world time’ on December 21, 2012 and is literally written in stone on the Mayan calendar. 

    Is it negotiable? Well, I don’t think the smooth lawyers or wealthy unions can help much with this. As I understand it, it’s the end of the present order and it is NOT negotiable. December 21, 2012 is an appointment with destiny….the apocalypse….last hurrah….Armageddon….so don’t waste your time packing! 

    O.K……here’s some scientific crap, so stay awake. Relativity, as formulated by Einstein and the subsequent quantum laws, is only a rediscovery of the long lost wisdom known by the Mayan guys and many other wise civilizations around the ancient world. The Mayan’s were just the last one’s to document it.

    Those who understand that the fractality principle is the foundation of the Mayan time cycles, will of course know, that the Sumerian division of a day into 24 hrs and an hour into 60 min, the Egyptian Sothic cycles or the Vedic Yugas are formulated on the same principles. This shit can really make your head hurt! Seems they all predict the same outcome, as does the Mayan long count, that the end will come during the winter solstice of 2012. It will not be this or that or maybe….the end means the end.  Yeah, I don’t remember any of this in school either.

Apocalypse and Armageddon;
    All the world’s major religions have a “Party’s Over”, scenario. Most of the time it involves a lot of fire, CGI monsters, guys with wings and horns, calamity and a whole lot of “I told you sos!” Matthew and the book of Daniel were more than sufficient to make us worry about the end of days, but it was John and the book of Revelations that scared the bejesus out of us.

FALSE PROPHETS;
    Matthew 24:11 “And many false prophets will arise, and will mislead many.”
    This starts in Washington every Monday morning and ends with “The Evangelistic Hour” on channel 6 every Sunday night. Arm waving pontificators with the charisma needed to keep folks terrified and confused.

WARS;
Matthew 24:6 “And you will be hearing of wars and rumors of wars; see that you are not frightened, for those things must take place, but that is not yet the end.”
    FOX, CNN and all the rest. Count the wars, both civil and international in the last ten years! AK 47’s and APG’s are manufactured at a greater volume than most fast food combo’s.

FAMINES and EARTHQUAKES;
Matthew 24:7 “For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and in various places there will be famines and earthquakes.”
    African farmers starve in increasing numbers due to droughts and civil wars in with food being as much a bargaining chip as weapons and bribes.  Massive earthquakes, along with tsunamis, tornadoes, hurricanes and climate change has touched every continent now. The number and intensity of earthquakes this century is at a level higher than any other time in history. A staggering number of seismic events occur around the world daily. The earthquake seismic monitor IRIS shows all major earthquakes for the last year as being more than 400% higher than the year before. California is but a fart’s vibration from breaking off the west coast like a Ritz Cracker.

THEN IT REALLY GETS HAIRY;
Revelations 4:6-11 “In the midst of the Throne, and round about the Throne, were FOUR BEASTS full of eyes before and behind. And the First Beast was like a LION, and the Second Beast like a CALF, and the Third Beast had a face as a MAN, and the Fourth Beast was like a FLYING EAGLE. And the four Beasts had each of them six wings about him; and they were full of eyes within….

O.K….this is pretty much more info than I really need.

In conclusion….At 11:11 am, Friday morning, 2012….me and Wifey, with our cups of coffee, will be sitting in our lawn chairs on our back patio. At 11:30 am, we’ll go back inside and have lunch….enough said.

    TAMING THE BEAST!

    I’m not going to try and define sex because I always get confused between the ooooos and aaaaas! I have a vague memory of sex being exciting and scary all at the same time and it was an event that took over your body and mind and drained you of all your ecstasy and gland juices. Such a mystery.

    God made sex pleasurable for a reason….to motivate dumb beast to propagate. On the ‘Jolly scale,’ it rates just above a vibrating recliner or pissing in a swimming pool. The problem is, God made it incredibly wonderful and then punished us for enjoying it too much. The paradox is mind boggling.

    Many years ago, during my youth, I lost my virginity in the backseat of a 1956 Ford. One moment it was there and then the next it was gone! My ecstasy was drained and gone! I felt used and hollow inside and a bit shameful of what had just happened. The next time I surrendered my ecstasy, I was completely over the shame and soon felt like Tarzan with a jungle full of Janes.

    As I grew into manhood, I quickly realized that men, in many cases, are simply used by certain women who care very little for them. Their only intent is to solely harvest their manly ecstasy. Once done….the man is left in a babbling heap much like a dumb beast. So many sad stories I could tell of lost nights and spent ecstasies. It was not until I served in Asia that I met women who really cared. They would express their emotional conviction with gentle words like “Me love you loooong time, GI.”  Even though they never took my ecstasy, they often took my wallet. But still, my libido was intact.

    After the military, I spent the next few years in college where women stalked the campus grounds at night feeding on strolling ecstasies like horny moistened jungle bats. I was used on more than a few occasions after being forced fed on herb filled brownies. I felt voided.

    It has taken me years to finally figure out the incredible mystery concerning a man’s ecstasy. During those vital moments of pre-ecstasy, a great deal of a man’s blood is redirected to the nether region of his body. The only part of the body not needed at that moment is the man’s brain, so the needed blood is drained from that organ to another. This causes the destruction of millions of oxygen starved brain cells, and this accounts for the ooooo’s and aaaaaa’s that follow as he has already lost his ability to communicate. He has become a staggering plaything who’s thought processes are now channeled through his groin.

    After she has salvaged his ecstasy, he is now easier to control and for all intended purposes….she now owns him! Sad. I have been ecstasy challenged for years now and if it were not for ‘spell-check’, I would not be able to communicate today.

I am unable to connect with Xanga help and I’m pulling my hair out with bugs. I’ve been unable to connect to Xanga for the last five days, much less sign on. I used IE and Chrome with no success. Finally I got on today, but half my commenter and friend’s pics don’t load and twice my site froze on me and everything else on there acts unsteady. If support staff reads this or a friend with advice is out there, please help me out…. Thanks, Charlie 

WHERE THE CRAP AM I?

OK…..HERE’S THE SCENARIO.

    I’m coming out of Radio Shack and I’m answering a text message sent from my new Moroccan friend on Facebook. I have a load of packages that I purchased with my Visa card, which caused it to max-out which was my intention because I plan to file for bankruptcy as soon as I and the ‘old lady’ get back from our Alaskan cruise next week. I grunt something to a passing skate boarder and then I step off the curb and a FedEx truck ploughs into me on it’s way to Office Depot. I die.

  wake in a smoky haze. I feel fine. Actually, I feel wonderful! I get to my feet without having to roll over on my knees first which is something I have not been able to do in years. I look around and something’s not right. I’m not in the mall parking lot anymore as there are no cars around. Just a few horses and a couple of catapults. CATAPULTS!!!

    Yep…..This is the here after! A few details are in order. Life will only advance to the year 2012. All those that pass on before then will have their ‘Hoodaha’, (spirit) sent back and recycled to another lifetime. If you were good and fair in this current life, you might go back as a noble or maybe great artist, but more realistically, you would end up as a skinny hard working member of a farming family that loses one of their offspring annually. People that really sucked in this life would, in all likelihood, end up further back in time with a name like Ogg, and they would spend their pitiful days running from furry rhinoceros.

OK..…..back to me;

    I feel different, but at the same time normal. Then I figure it out. That different feeling is not feeling my arthritis, being out of breath and wanting to take a nap. I feel great. A large and dirty fellow in armor with a big sword hollers at me and points towards the mall. I look around and notice the mall looks like a castle now. Then, in a panic, I quickly look down at the area around my feet and started yelling…..”Where’s my damn packages?” At that moment an arrow nips off a small tip of my ear and my brain recalibrates priorities and I fall to the ground.

    Soon I’m yanked up by some guy named Lextar the Bull and handed a heavy rusty sword almost as tall as me. I join some other dudes, who are running pass, as I hope this was the direction of a retreat. To my dismay, it was the charge. I had a lumber sized sword and figured ‘what the hell’ , so I stayed close to the middle of the horde and yelled when they did.

    The castle was on fire and at the top of the battlements the defenders were throwing huge rocks and dead guys down on the assaulting army. The noise was like a heavy metal concert! As I ran I took note of my appearance. I wore all sort of leather garb and broken and rusty chain mail. My feet were bound in cloth and leather and I wore on my head what looked and smelled like a banged up spittoon. I was dirty, smelly, damp and my butt itched. I reached up under my helmet and felt. I was still friggin bald! There was a great noise as I reached the wall. The draw bridge had been lowered with a shattering crash! “Onward men, advance yol mass and take yon to slaughter!” I was stoked, so I joined in and stormed the now opened gate. Then a rock hit me on the head. I died.

    I woke as a eunuch in Queen Cleopatra’s palace. I quickly looked down…“Where’s my damn package?”

     MY LITTLE TUFFY, WUFFY……

     Cats have been around for a long time. We have evidence of cats existing as far back as the time of the Neanderthal man. The fact that those cats could bring down a rhinoceros for their dinner is impressive also. Today, most cats just eat tuna. I remember our family cat when I was a kid….he ruled the house. Slept where and when he wanted, gave meow orders when he wanted to eat, sprayed the house like it was a mosquito control zone and threw a meow fit when you were slow letting it out at night to go shag Fluffy two houses down.

     I enjoyed our cat and spent many hours of amusement with it. I used to put rubber bands snugly around each paw and play an Elvis record and watch him dance and flip around the living room until he started to shake too much and then I cut the rubber bands off. The greatest fun was shutting him up in the mailbox and then taking a stick and banging on the side of the metal box and then running back in the house just before the mailman got there. The look of terror on that old guys face when he opened the mailbox was priceless! Those were good times. Later in life, the only time I was around cats was while alligator hunting in Florida, then PETA made the state outlaw it. You can use your imagination.

     My daughter got a kitten when she was ten years old and named it Tizzy. One Friday, she took Tizzy to school in her lunch box and left it on the bus. We got her a hamster named Rufus and a new lunch box the following Monday. So, please don’t misjudge me on my antics as a child, as Ritalin was not available then.  So you see, I don’t dislike cats and I truly feel they are a major part of our culture, just as they are in China. A cat can show love in truly unique ways, like goldfish and crows. Taking puss outside and tossing a stick for him to fetch is always a great past time, especially when you’re stoned. So, if my humor and the embellishment of a few facts has offended any cat lovers, I am truly apologetic and meant no disrespect to the felines. Likewise, I apologize to the mailmen of that era.

    One last comment…… They are the only mammal, that if they weigh less than 20 pounds, will jump and frisk around you and play with their rubber mouse all day. But, if they weigh over 20 pounds, they usually just eat you!

                                                                                                       Charlie

 BOY, IS HE GONNA BE SURPRISED!!

     We de-balled the dog not long ago. My son’s dog, that is. A beautiful two year old American boxer. 75 pounds of uncontrollable love and ravenous aggravation! Goat leaping from one piece of furniture to another and chewing up anything it could clamp it’s jaws on as if it were some kind of canine wood chipper! The dog was so high strung, that it barked at everything that moved or made a noise, including it’s own farts.

     The decision to confiscate it’s jewels was out of desperation to calm the beast down for the sake of our household possessions, grandma’s lap, and as a deterrent from copulating with every breed of mongrel, turtle, raccoon and mail carrier that passed through our neighborhood. It was not a pleasant thing to discuss among family members, but he was driving us all nuts with his behavior….so, minus the nuts and minus the behavior.

     My son took him to the castrator and dropped him off to be lopped. Four hours later, he picked up a different dog. He brought the poor animal back to my house in a effort to make me feel guilty for instigating the plan in the first place. The pathetic animal slowly, (very slowly), walked in the front door and looked up at me in a state of bewilderment. He had this huge lamp shade strapped around his neck which was also bewildering to him due to the fact he wasn’t even able to visually investigate why he was so bewildered. He just lumbered around like a stranded tourist who had just lost their luggage. Sad. He stopped and looked up again at me and I could tell he felt I was to blame for his transformation into an eunuch. I felt as sad as he did, except I could still breed.

     I’m not saying neutering is always the best solution, except for maybe rapist, adulterous politicians and lawyers. But, for a huge galloping pet-beast, with the mentality of a lap dog and a mouth like a cosmic black hole consuming the household universe….just pluck them berries!

                                                          Charlie

     THE PERFECT WOMAN

During the last 65 solar orbits of my life, I have observed, experience, consumed and mentally regurgitated all the important elements required to classify a woman as a perfect mate. For those of you who are feminist, self-righteous liberals, pompous conservatives, Ukrainian lesbians or Nancy Boys, please don’t read the following as you may experience an anal aneurism.

1….It’s important to have a woman who helps at home, is a great cook, cleans up and has a job.

2….It’s important to have a woman who can tell a good joke and always laughs at your‘s. 

3….It’s important to have a woman who is excellent in bed, and a little kinky.

4….It’s important to have a woman who caters to your every whim while out in public.

5….It’s important to have a woman that totally believes every word you say and supports your alibis.

6….It’s important to have a woman who takes care of her figure and maintains ‘breast perky-ness‘.

7….It’s important to have a smart woman who understands the value of acting dumb.

8….It’s important to have a woman who knows her place, but keeps it to herself.

9….It’s important to have a woman who needs love without having to be understood.

10….It’s important to have a woman that knows where everything is and leaves it there.

As I have no place in my life for ten different women….I’ll just keep the one I have now, because……It’s also important to have a women who makes you feel important, for just being her husband.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Sugar Bear Charlie

        HORNY VIKINGS

    All that men really need in life is ‘physical bonding’. Much like their Moms lavished on them in their youth, minus the mammaries. The physical bonding, I’m referring to, is the traditional type that this generation of men experience today with their buds, comrades, pals and amigos! The bonding rituals are older than cheese. Going to a football game with three of his cohorts and then drinking themselves into oblivion. Soon, they are taking off their jackets and shirts, in 20 degree weather, and painting their flabby torsos in team colors and then yelling, jumping, gyrating and head-butting their friggin brains out with every touchdown their team makes. After a few more beers, anybody’s touchdown will do.

    As I said before, these bonding rituals are ancient among men. The Vikings, during the seventh century, used to slosh themselves with gallons of mead and then toss battle axes at each other for fun with the occasional loss of a finger or two, or three. Bonding! Men doing men-stuff together and enjoying the shit out of the maiming!

    I know you’re asking about the comment, ’Real men don’t need sex.’  Well, women know that to be true, and are connivingly smart about how to handle it. They all know, in their opportunistic minds, that when their he-mates are out bonding with the tribe, sooner or later, they must return back to the cave. It is then, that they take advantage of the overly bonded male. So, when HOOTERS closes for the night and the man finally figures out how to get home, that she will be waiting, provocatively dressed in flimsy veils and quivering with anticipation.  He will enter his domain like a victorious Nordic warrior and see her pretending to be a subjugated maiden waiting to be plundered….then he will plunder her….he can‘t help it! After she has rendered him of all his essence, she will then graciously allow him to sleep. Yep…..that’s the sex part.

    Now, here’s the disclaimer part:  Male bonding, in the last decade or so, has taking on an entirely different philosophy and concept and on occasion has been sexually tainted. Today, it takes place in bizarre dance clubs where they serve fruity drinks and play retro disco music. Instead of giving head-butts, they just give head and butts….(sorry about that). Men have to be more careful now about comradery and the noble act of buddy hugging, incase the guy he’s hugging starts calling him at home every night. Just saying.

  Cardiac arrester   

A father, passing by his son’s bedroom, was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow, and addressed to ‘Dad.’ With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad,

    I’m really sorrow that I’m writing this to you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend ‘Luna’ cause I wanted to skip any hassle with Mom and you. I’ve really been digging Luna and she’s so cool too. I knew you guys would be pissed and not approve of her cause of all the piercings, tattoos, hair colors and plus she’s a lot older than me. But it’ s not cause of the different kinds of cool sex with her or the group massages……Dad, we’re getting married cause she’s pregnant. Luna said that we will be real happy and stuff when we move in with Grit. Her friend Grit owns a trailer way off I-95 and he’s already got a stack of firewood for the whole winter. Luna and I share a dream of having lots of kids. Luna has also opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn’t really hurt anybody. We’ll be growing it ourselves in Grit’s greenhouse and trading it off with the other people that live nearby for meth and ecstasy. What we sell will be for trips to the clinic cause of Luna’s AIDS so she’ll get better. She deserves it. O.K., don’t you and Mom worry, cause I’m 15 and know how to take care of myself. Someday, Luna and me will be back to visit so you can get to know all your grandchildren.

Love you guys,

 Johnny

PS…..Dad, none of the above is true. I’m just over at Tommy’s house doing video games. I Just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that’s in my center desk drawer. I love you. Call me when it’s safe to come home.

           LOVE IS BLIND, SWEET CHEEKS

Think for a moment….a brief synaptic moment. What if, you woke up tomorrow and you were the opposite sex?  Not talking about waking up in the recovery room of some slice and dice clinic in Switzerland. Nope, I’m saying you are now a he-she or a she-he. What would your typical day be like. Bear in mind, it should all seem normal to you…..that’s asking a lot, (for some, anyway).　

    It’s morning and my alarm just went off like my whining boyfriend during my period. I slowly roll out of bed and feel my way to the bathroom with my eyes half opened. I sit there with my head in my hands and pee. The tissue fairy failed to put a new roll of tissue on, so I just waddled a bit and get up. As I pass the mirror, I look the other way to save my fortitude until after my shower. Once in the shower, I stand there for a long moment till I’m totally awake and then I start my bathing ritual. Shampoo, conditioner, foamy body wash and a quick shave of the legs and pits.  It’s only the middle of the week, so I skip the Summer’s Eve. Another a few moments of just standing under the shower head and then it’s over. I dry myself with a three day old towel and then wrap my hair up in it.

    I now stand in front of the mirror and finally get the courage to wipe away the steam condensation from the glass. As I had anticipated, it was still me on the other side of the mirror and I had not improved from yesterday. My skin was taking on a life of it’s own these days and had so many creases and blotches that it looked like an old map of Europe. My eyes looked pre-rehab, my neck looked turkeyish, my pores looked gigantic, my skin tags looked as numerous as wheat and my boobs just looked down. 

    I started my daily campaign against nature with a good skin cream followed by an ever better one and then applications of industrial foundation, assorted powders, skin shimmer, lip gloss, eye liner and then finally the appropriate splashes of my almost favorite perfume in all the essential locations; accessible or otherwise.

    At this point, I slip into my slippers and an old flannel shirt, that some guy left here when in a hurry to leave one night, and I scamper into the kitchen to make coffee. While it brews, I turn on the TV to listen to the three morning stooges on FOX. Now, with coffee mug in hand, I scamper back to my bathroom and start the renovation of my hair.  I remove the towel from my head and analyze the challenge like a triage doctor. My hair is short with a $30 trim job, so all I have to do is just shake it out after drying. Bullshit. I fight several cowlicks, outcrops and irregular genetic defects until I finally achieve the look, as if I just shook it out.

    I open my dresser drawer and dig for a pair of underwear with good elastic and no holes, but they’re all in the laundry, so I put on one of my dating t-backs. I look through my extensive collection of four bras and look for the one with the best structural integrity. Then I find a pair of knee-highs with the smallest toe nail holes and pull them on. Finally, I visit my closet and study the assorted styles, combinations, colors and accessories that will give the illusion of a never before seen ensemble, once I get to work. I pick out a pair of shoes, spritz some of my perfume in them and put them on. I head back to the kitchen and warm up my coffee and get two Fig Newton bars for my breakfast. Moments later, it’s back to the bathroom to take a poop while I finish my coffee. Then I brush my teeth and reapply lip gloss.  One final quality control inspection in the mirror and I sadly shake my head and head to work.

    Out the door and running late, I’m digging in my purse for my car keys and sunglasses. Once on the road, I cruise by Starbucks and get a poppy seed Danish and a large Cinnamon Dolce Latte….my brunch. While I’m driving, I’m holding my coffee and Danish in one hand and with the other, I’m digging in my purse for my cell phone. All the while I’m using my knees to drive. Once I find my phone I call the new guy I just started dating and leave a message in his mail box that I’m having my period. If he calls back, then we’ll get together tonight…..that is, if he calls back.

This exposé is based on many years as a single man and an even greater number of years as a silent and observant married man. Take this as a challenge and write about a day on the other side of gender.

Charlie