Mom's Miracle

Mom loves attention. Loves it and her obsession for sacrificing herself stems from that love for attention. So the bitch got herself in a corner she's having a hard time getting out of. It's all over her blood pressure. And besides that problem she is a diabetic. Now, in real world time, Mom doesn't have bad blood pressure and she doesn't have diabetes. She has an attention disorder. In that she needs attention.

She fainted at the boyfriend's place, hit something on the way down and went to emergency where they said her blood pressure was real low. She says she takes medicine for the low blood pressure but there is no medication for low blood pressure, at least nothing that doesn't increase your sodium intake.

Now, I've seen Mom at work. I've seen her decline to eat something like non-fat yogurt and fruit, not cake and pastries that, heaven forbid, might put weight on before a long bicycle ride. She does this so that at about mile ten she needs to stop, rest and eat, because if she doesn't, she faints. The trouble is, the rest of us ate and don't need to stop and if she had something to eat before she left, she wouldn't need to stop ten miles into the ride either. I have told her point blank, to eat something now because I don't want her passing out later, or I won't ride. That's when she sacrifices herself and eats the god-damn poison yogurt and fresh fruit.

The last miracle of miracles was the cure of her diabetes, suddenly she went from Type Two diabetes to not having it at all. Yet she found a way around not having diabetes, she has allergies. Want to know what she's allergic to? Well you can't know, it varies, but they all bring instant death. One day it was a gardenia bush in the garden, a week before that it was the cat that never moved in but she had a reaction to some of its hairs that must have came in and almost died. All her allergies cause instant death. There is no swelling of the tongue, hives, boils, falling out of hair, or anal leakage. It is dropping dead period, or near death when she survives to tell you about it, and so far--always seem to survive.

So she tells me she can now ride her bike. Her blood pressure is normal even though the doctor hasn't signed off on it. And rest assured, the doc always signs off to witnessing a bona-fide miracle.

But I warned her, "Now what if you fell riding with us before the doc gave you the okay? You would be hurt and we would have to deal with the ambulance and your  safety. Do you think that's wise to do?"

Mom thought, "I have a doctor appointment tomorrow and I'll go to that but I'll stop by and say hello." 

I'm sure that another miracle will have occurred. 

Queer Gaza Under Attack From The Muslim Brotherhood

It was real touch and go. The lob of bombs in the form of accusations of attempted murder, legal shit with lawyers trying to pry information out of us with threats and long interviews. But we survived, in spite of the threats of hundreds of thousands of dollars in loss revenue if we were found guilty, we survived the character assassinations from Farsi foreigners up the street. It's bad enough we have the Brotherhood next door but then came threats from other Iranians just three doors away.

Allegedly, one of their burka bitches, while walking her unruly canines for their morning shit on other people's lawns, tripped on the public sidewalk. Okay, but why didn't they say anything like HELP. Shit no, nothing until almost two years later when some asshole is yelling my name outside the front door and when I answered, hands me a lawsuit.   

Got me some white lawyers. Big fat fucking law firm with a whole fucking floor to themselves lawyers, thanks to Farmers Insurance. And they really fucked them over. Of course I had to help out a lot. I had to do my part and at the same time keep an eye out for Golden Boy who doesn't know how evil the Muslim Brotherhood can be.

So now the war dance. We here in Queer Gaza are celebrating the victory over the Farsi pestilence that invaded the hood and want nothing but to strip it of its riches and destroy all those that are not Muslim.

A win for atheism, a win for all those who struggle under the yoke of religion and its intolerance of the Fey.   

Tales From Queer Gaza, What's Wrong With Mexican Monkey?

There is something happening with the little guy. It could be his food which consists mainly of beer and beer nuts. Or it may be his wife who wants an American citizenship. It may be that she's not letting the little monkey out at nights to roam the countryside. He barked at me the other day. Got mad and yelled at me. That's very unusual.

He's looking old too. A tired Mexican Monkey is not a happy Mexican Monkey. His blood pressure is up as well. In fact, that could be the cause of his angst. I noted at the party last night, before he blew up, that when I mentioned after Dr. Al took his blood pressure and made the sign of the cross(and he's Jewish), that with a blood pressure reading like that, he could pop an eyeball out. He seemed sour, as if a fart had dislodged in his lower colon and took something with it in its passing. And if the blood pressure cup was still in place it would have probably blown out.

He yelled at me when we were loading up the fat-ass Cadillac. Out on the street yet he started screaming at me about how I don't appreciate what he does. I do and he knows that so I don't understand why the blowup. That's why I think there is something far more sinister going on here.

The Muslim Brotherhood are known for plotting. They are known for planning, in cunning detail, how to sabotage everything. It's as if they were born for that one purpose only and I think it's because they have too much time on their hands. They can't drink, look at naked women or men, and they have to pray five times a day. Well if that wouldn't drive you nuts what will? So they plot, it's the only thing left for them to do.

The Muslim Brotherhood wants Mexican Monkey dead so he can't help me or get his Italian wife into the country. They are so very devious.

Tales From Queer Gaza

The heat is on, each day warmer than the last and with it, the hood. With all the Iranians, Jews, white trash and queers that are scattered about, it's no wonder the place could erupt at any time. Like dried brush on a forest floor, ready for a spark of any kind, this place is fucking hot to burn.

The city came out and laid a new coat of black hot tar. A sun absorbing strip bubbles with heat and cooks all through the night. Even at early morning, before the sun has had a chance to renew its strength, the coat of black bakes warm.

What's with putting on a coat of black tar with global warming? It's to drive our hood fucking crazy. Everyone in the fucking city knows we are the Middle East transplanted and are trying to burn us out. Trouble is, the fucking Iranians love the fucking heat. That's when their dicks get hard. Same with the white trash, shit-kickers like nothing better than to wear a sweat soaked wife-beater, drink beer while scratching their nuts. Once the sun goes down shit-kickers yell at their kids, fuck and yell some more at filthy little shit-kickers and that's two doors down, between here and Little Iran. So we're surrounded by heat loving fucked up freaks and the city wants us the hell out. What is a better way than to turn up the heat? So turn up the heat they did and had our street turned into a micro-wave.

I'm not sure how long us queers of Gaza can hold out. The garden needs a great deal of water in this heat. It's all we can do to keep paradise pristine let alone deal with bomb makers and ghetto white trash. Still we will survive because we are, The Queers of Gaza.

Tales From Queer Gaza

The hood is heating up. The Muslim Brotherhood, next door in Little Iran, are getting worked up. Their women, shrouded in burkas, have toiled in the sun and now have a distinct odor that drives the men wild with lust. It's time for rutting the burka bitches. I heard them grunting today, god knows what sort of sex acts they perform once they get the burka bitch undressed.

That's when I noticed the odor. Not an odor so much as a stink. Foul, heady stink of fish heads, piss and sweat. It drives the Jihad warriors into a fighting frenzy but first they must fuck and fuck they did.

At little Israel the grounds are quiet. They know better than to venture forth from their fortress while the Muslim Brotherhood are rutting. Jews know this instinctively and they don't fuck anyway, when they do it has to be on a moonless night. They need a moonless night because they blindfold themselves, strip and search out genitalia. Once they find something, a quick rut, and off they go to pray about it. 

The Muslims aren't that picky. In fact, I noticed the chickens and cats keep a wary eye and don't ever go over when they smell burka bitches in stink. They know what may happen before they end up in the stew pot. Fucked. That's what, and than ate.

We have supplies in, hot dogs, beer, us queers of Gaza are holding out and Golden Boy has taken a sabbatical on men. He's decided to wait until  the Muslim Brotherhood rut is finished. Might take a while, the heat wave is suppose to last four days and them burka bitches reek to high heaven.