Thousands Poisoned In The Name Of Allah This Year Alone

It's already started, there is no turning back and as of last night, hundreds lay sick and dying. The poison will eventually kill thousands, due to the nature of the toxin, it's lethal effects will last for two years, killing more because Allah said it would.

Allah loves death, he told me how to kill. To bring it sweet and silently to those that displease me. And it wouldn't be needed if they only had left Gaza.
But they stayed, once the Muslim Brotherhood brought them in. Oh, yea, there were no cockroaches until Little Iran moved in next door. Not a one and then, wham, like a jihad bomber the population exploded and overran Queer Gaza.

You need fire to fight fire. So I turned on Mecca went to Lowes where Allah said I could find death in a spray bottle and bought some real nasty shit. First thing I hit was the kitchen. Sprayed, like instructed, the floorboard, and then that night, turned on the lights.

Nothing, no bugs scampering everywhere, no little fuckers on the walls, or counters, not anywhere I could see. Allah said it  would work and it did. Thanks be to Allah.

Gaza's Harvest Of Ganja

It was a good year for cannabis in Queer Gaza. The harvest plentiful and quality good, at least enough for us and friends to enjoy through the year. And why can't anyone who wants to grow marijuana do so? The plant is hardy, takes all kinds of soil and environmental conditions. It does have a heady aroma as it matures and flowers, but the smell isn't offensive. There are a few things to watch but for the most part, insects aren't a problem. Mine has a scale problem every year, an insect that saps at the plants nutrients, at least not enough to permanently damage the plant to where it dies and some of the plants had quite an infestation--that's how strong a plant it is.

I call it hippie grass, a strain we've grown for years now. Friends that smoke a lot of grass however, call it shit weed because it is no where near the potency of store bought. But our grass is nurtured with our own  organic compost, nothing is sprayed on the plant and we are very satisfied with the quality. Who wants to lay in a heap, comatose from weed? Not us.

In the winter it's nice to have some weed around when the days are chilly and with a fire, a glass of wine and a joint to toke on, makes the cold night comforting. We plan to stay comfortable this winter and beyond.

Reality Hits Gaza

There are two facts on vacations. One is that they are over and the other is the anticipation of the vacation. Specifically, what could go wrong that you need to plan for. They sell insurance for the 'What to go wrong' part. If not insurance, then planning, and planning is a pain.

Vacations, that pastime pleasure so wrought with peril and tingling excitement. The need for one, driven by advertisement, to get away and spend money. The money issue hidden with pictures of beautiful people relaxing on palm shaded hammocks. Refreshing drinks an arms length away with happy attendants waiting to fulfill your pleasures.

Then you come home to the tune of 'Same Old Shit' and wham, reality is there to smack you right up the side of the head. Slap you silly too. Little Iran is busy pouring cement right up to the property line. That's okay, how would their place look like Iran if they didn't rid the earth of green and replace it with cement. If they're happy looking at Burkas waddling on concrete, than so be it.

And Hag came around, damn if she don't look even worse than last time but she sure as shit is worse. a specter with dark hallow eyes, seaweed hair, thin as a rail. Hag needed help, don't we all. I gave her the name of a plumber, not sure if she'll eat him or have him fix her pipe, but there she was, squeaking like a mouse at the back gate when I happened by to hear her call.

Little Israel is at peace, outside of a little yelling now and then but I think it's the way of Jews, you don't ask or talk, you scream at others. That's how they communicate in Israel with gods and everyone else.

I miss the vistas of ocean waves and sunsets. All that replaced with a fall garden needing care. The back roads for biking in quiet farmland, vanished when I mounted my bike to shop at the store and the traffic to navigate for the two blocks, half on the sidewalk because the road congestion is so bad. And then home to neighbors thrilled with concrete and screaming. Such is life.

Oh, well, just throw money, a lot of it, and you can vacation again next year. It keeps advertizing going at least.

Board Walk Eye Candy

Damn if Cayucos isn't made for looking.  Eye-candy to fit proclivities of all kinds and tendencies.  What you like? Huh? What?

Well, its here in Cayucos. Today was incredible. The weather perfect, you couldn't get better. An offshore wind blew this morning on the waves. It made them rise and spray whips of whitewater behind them on their march to the sand. Surfers glistened seal-black in rubber suits made sleek with foamy ocean water. They bobbed on boards for a wave to ride, like sea birds that sat nearby.

Families came to celebrate the day. Dogs, kids, teenagers, young, old, and all wonderful. All so happy as well as us. Prince Albert and I enjoyed an early morning walk, breakfast followed by hanging at the beach house and then another walk on the shore to town. We had a pitcher of beer before walking back to the rental. Wally spent some morning time outside watching the parade of beach goers. We had bloody-Mary's, French-Apple sausage with mouth-watering fresh peach waffles and cantaloupe. He really enjoyed his time in the sun overlooking the beach. It's a beautiful view, you can't see anything bad. Morro Rock to the left, and the town's lights at night on the right. And then there are the sunsets. Incredible.

Today is our last full day and then it's back to L.A. Maybe so, but we too will be back here as well.

Life Is A Beach

Envision a classic beach house. A kind of sophisticated shanty, where sand and wood meet. There is a fireplace in the center of the living room, on both sides of the fire are large tinted windows that show a completely unobstructed view of the sea and sand.  And at night, the twinkle of village lights from Cayucos, on the other, Morro Rock jutting so high from the beach it has it own micro-climate. A cloud of mist encircles the top of the great rock with blue sky all around.

The sliding glass door is open allowing a cool ocean breeze in. It mixes well with the sound of its serf, a fireplace keeps us warm, comfortable and brings the magic back of of days as a teenager huddled around a fire pit at the beach with friends toasting marsh-mellows on sticks.

A writer's retreat, a dacha, where you can't do much of anything else except walk on the beach and write your thoughts upon return. I haven't walked on the beach yet, but I sure plan too. And that's the rub. How do you fit a lifetime of leisure into a week? There are no phones to answer, no mail to read or garden to tend. There is the beach, the fireplace and a view. Life is a beach.

Writer's Retreat At Seaside

The mini-van is gassed up and ready to go. On Sunday morning, if all goes well, we will be heading for the central coast for a week at the beach at a seaside home.  I can't wait, and Wally is doing much better. He had a problem two weeks ago, I think pneumonia and so did the Urgent Care doctor but he showed a possible bladder infection. In either event, the anti-biotic they gave him killed the grass beneath his feet it was so strong.

He is doing better than he has in months, he is breathing better, walking better and more awake. The doctor, and she was a beaut, and real sharp, said to put some Gator-aid in his water. It helped a lot with his awareness of things, he was low in certain electrolytes and the Gator-aid has helped with that. Then we both had our bi-annual skin burn. Liquid Nitrogen applied freely on every area of our body that sees daylight. That's due to white skin. Why people want to be born white I have no idea, because when you age, that white skin molds. Seriously, that's why cave dwellers stay in caves, they can't take the sun and they're all white.

But a week at the beach to write and read and read and write. Take walks, go to the local tavern and find some chit-chat with a villager, it all sounds delightful and fun. More later on our great adventure.   

Vatican States People Hump

Amazing, and all along I thought everybody did it. The variety of sex alone would make you think everybody does it. Hell, you don't need another person to do it. Just a private moment and Whoopee, a moment's pleasure--a mischief.

I don't get it. God, for those who believe in Santa Claus and other fables, is so controlling that he can't let a creature have a little pleasure? And yet, among other animals, besides ourselves, sex with something happens constantly. Like Spot humping his Master's leg. It's a fact that among living creatures like ourselves, there is more sex and more variety of sex that occurs. Yet God wants you to, 'save it' for that special moment when only you and another 'save it' person meet, and by powers vested in rituals, can now unite and have sex. I guess Beth and Bud get up after fucking themselves sick and shoot Spot for humping the furniture.

I mean, do these people really exist? Ever? Because that alone would put Darwin into jeopardy. They should be extinct long ago if, in fact, there are people who are virgins waiting around for magic rituals so they can fuck. It's kookoo.

Now, what about the nuns? What about those clits waiting, ever pure, married to a god? That's heavy. Does the Holy Father want to go there? What do you do with all the nuns who lust of carnal knowledge?  They've whipped themselves, scrubbed floors to rid themselves of clit pleasure. It didn't work of course and now the male hierarchy will discuss, not only penis pleasure but clits as well.

It's a new day and a new sheriff is town. If you value your life, when a preacher comes a knockin', run for your life. The greatest lie ever told is about gods and that they are real.