The Pink Professor Explains A Game Of Pool

Before you go to play a game of pool, it helps to know what you're doing. In fact, if you don't have any idea about what you should do, it would be unlikely you'd ever take cue in hand to break and possibly to scratch. Oops, I'm getting ahead of myself! Because of course you're not yet familiar with the specialized vocabulary necessary to the game.

To get the job done, you need a teacher. It's like so many other things in life -- raking leaves, turning on a gas grill, changing the oil in your car -- it helps to have someone who's done it, who can then show you how to do it too. As for me myself, I both grew up playing pool, getting it somewhat by osmosis and somewhat by instruction, and I took a class, receiving the expert instruction of a stubby guy who picked it up in tough Chicago or perhaps the service.

There's a place, though, not far from where I live; you have to veer in and out of dense traffic to find it, but it's out there nonetheless; where, if you're lucky, and if you happen to go there the right night, and you chance to survive any missteps along the way, you can learn the game, meaning one of the more popular games that is played on the pool table.

But there I go again with the terminology! A pool table is a table-like thing that typically has a green felt surface, with holes in the corners and two on the side. A set of balls is placed on the surface, and with a stick called a pool cue, the balls are hit. To get the balls in the holes is usually the object of the game.

The place I'm talking about, where you can learn to play, is a local hangout that is a bikers' bar. But you need to get there on one of the nights when one of their patrons is there, a guy they call The Pink Professor. Because -- unless they've changed -- nobody else there is going to care whether you know how to play or not. The others will be too busy playing themselves, pool or some other sport that might, coincidentally, involve a hole in each corner and two on the side, to be of assistance to you. And my advice, just good advice, if you see any of this extracurricular action taking place in the corners, that you step back out of the facility, do not advance any further, and get the heck out of there!

OK, The Pink Professor. I've mentioned him before. And here.

Someone shows up wanting to play pool, but they've never done it, they have no idea how it's done. If the PP is there, he'll get you familiar with the sticks, he'll help you warm up with a few whacks. It's good to warm up, because in the heat of the game it'll be assumed you know what you're doing.

As he patiently explains, the balls are set in place with a triangular form called a rack. Then they're placed in a particular place and the rack is removed. You put your cue ball, the white one, in a region called "the kitchen." Now you have your pool cue, and you're going to hit the cue ball toward the other balls, that it will hit them. That is called "the break." And the lessons go on like that!

A chair comes flying across the room. There seems to be some mix-up in one of the corners, as a rowdy biker's hands have accidentally found their way to the topmost part, below the neck, of some other guy's woman. A broken bottle suddenly comes into view, being freshly broken at that moment by a sudden downward parry against the edge of the bar. You duck for cover just as you also take a stroke at the balls, scratching, which means the cue ball goes into one of the holes.

The Pink Professor goes over and quells the struggle, explaining that in the darkness and with the over-drinking, that mix-ups with women and the men they love are bound to happen. "No harm, no foul," he explains to the principles, getting them to put down their shivs long enough to shake hands and make up.

Then he's back to teach you the essential rules of what you're doing. That in this particular game you have to hit the balls in consecutive order, calling each shot, etc. And that if you're successful -- and sometimes success takes a little practice -- you will be the winner when you finally hit the 15 ball in ... last of all.

Sex And The Single Hidden Book

Well, there it is, Grandma's illicit book, "Sex and the Single Girl," shown out in the open (left) and hidden amongst some other junk (right). I pulled it out to get a full shot of it, more or less to prove that I still have possession of the nasty little thing. Then it went right back into hiding, where it will stay.

I first found this book a couple years ago while poking around in the basement. I quickly eliminated other suspects for who might've possessed it, which basically would've been my mom and my aunt. They were married and out of the house by 1963, which it was published. The book next came to my attention during the whole 'Peruvian Grange Queen' fiasco of last year. Since that episode had a terrible sexual center to it, and since my grandparents were both involved in the grange movement, I put two and two together, determining that Grandma was a lech.

Well, guess what, probably despite her wishes, I've still got it! I've been cleaning out the basement and I came across my hiding place, trying to keep it out of her sight. It still galls me that it's been down there all these years. One thing I hate is to know that people are hiding sex books around the house, especially an aged grandmother.

The picture I have above makes it look like it's hidden in plain sight, but it's not really. I pulled down some other junk from off the shelf. You can see it's pushed all the way to the back of the shelf, with other stuff covering it up. Still, you start uncovering stuff, which she would probably be able to do, if she were looking for it, and it's fairly easy to find.

I don't know for sure she wants to find it. It's a hard subject to bring up, for both of us. On the one hand, I don't want to let on that I know about it, because then she'd be looking for it for sure. If I keep my mouth shut, maybe it's a matter of 'out of sight, out of mind' on her part. But then she might not be saying anything about it, because she doesn't want me to know about it. In that case, it's making her very nervous, because she has to know the book is like a ticking time bomb, something I'm bound to come across sooner or later, whether before her death or after. So she doesn't dare ask about it, because then I'd know her dirty little secret.

So, I guess, from here on out it's going to be our own little personal game of cat and mouse we'll be playing. Which proves that holding out on me carries absolutely no reward whatsoever.

You may wonder why I don't simply destroy it. Because I'm keeping it for evidence against her if she ever tries something. A little leverage like that could really come in handy.

Swami Masturbananda's Family Jewels

Swami Sri Masturbananda, yogi guru of India, is a very wealthy man, especially in the ways that really count. He has the bliss of life, of divine awareness, and he treasures every opportunity to lead his chelas (students) in the same. His whole life is a treasure.

A big source of the master's wealth is found in his family jewels, because therein is the path to divinity, part of it, I should say, the glimpses of glory every man seeks. When it comes to the master's jewels, he always makes sure they're comfortable in their vault. But not so comfortable they can't be pressed into service on a moment's notice.

Jewels are precious things for many reasons. They make great decorations, like on an old lady's dress, a big jeweled broach. But perhaps more precious than that, nothing so directly illustrates the chakras that all of us have, particularly the power centers on the path up the spine to the crown of the head. They're always in motion. Jewels with their sparkles also show certain aspects of energy, that it's always in flux.

The family jewels, we know, are a center of energy. We think of the energy of life, and that's exactly what they have. They're like lotus flowers. They're like baby birds in the nest with their mouths straining open. The whole thing speaks of shifting, of motion, of vibration. The energy "speaks" to us; we hear and heed them particularly in our experiences when the libido is aroused. Like when a girl walks by with cut off jeans, cut so high you can see the pockets hanging down. Whether you're seeing it or remembering it later, nothing gets the vibrations going quite like it.

We can get a stoved up feeling if it's been a couple days, and we make a quick determination that our family jewels are getting restless. Of course, I'm speaking of the experience of men. Women also reportedly get some of these feelings, like, I guess, if they're craving the attentions of a man, a Cary Grant or Burt Reynolds, someone like that. You give them a good chick flick and they're usually happy. Or a vibrator.

Swami Masturbananda pays great attention to his family jewels, receiving for his efforts a rich payoff, those great glimpses of the highest consciousness. Only he knows exactly what it takes for him, but I have the feeling that one who so intimately knows the very center of life has no difficulty finding something lascivious to think about. He's eternal, so it might be a fantasy he's had stewing of some girl from the 1700s. She's a dried up skeleton in a forgotten grave to the rest of us, but to him in his mind she's still laughing in a pub and showing a bit too much cleavage.

The same things happen for him as happen for us. But the big difference for him is that he actually knows that state all the time. But he has put aside some of his prerogatives for the benefit of us, his followers, helping to lead us through incarnations and the glimpses of deity that we can get here and now, five to 10 seconds at a time. Perhaps you know the cycle: personal stimulation, build-up, glimpses of deity, denouement, afterglow, cleanup, video games, and finally to bed.

The master is the wealthiest man I know, with his wonderful family jewels and all they're capable of. There must be a turbine in there. But each one of us can share in this blessing of life, just as we are, as we also keep our own family jewels in motion, ever churning out the glory.

Masturbananda In The Morning

Swami Sri Masturbananda has a very wonderful teaching, that also guides his thinking, that we're all starstuff and we ought not forget it.

I like that word, starstuff. I know it goes back to the old days, like the '70s, I think. But in fact it goes back to the very first orgasm, the Big Bang, just prior to which everything was very stoved up. Then there was some manipulation with a black hole or something, and next thing you knew everything blew into being and happiness.

I also like -- I love -- hearing the scientists talk about this stuff on TV, especially the Science Channel. If they could just get rid of some of their hideous commercials -- Mantracker promos, Pumpkin Chunkin', Progressive, Geiko, etc. -- it would be a TV paradise. Especially when they're showing close-ups of planets, stars, galaxies, moons, comets, and big phallic things hanging from the sun and swaying hypnotically back and forth. It does something for your mental well-being to realize you're part of all that, not as a kind of foreign appendage, but as an intricate part, not exactly derivative but essential in its being.

Of course we wouldn't be "at home" on a planet that's 5000 degrees. We're "at home" on this planet, with everything else being out there at an appropriate distance. We can look but not necessarily touch. It's like a cosmic go-go club. The stuff out there has its place, we have ours. It's all energy and magnificent.

The upshot of all this is that in spirituality we're also right at home, spirituality being really only a focused awareness on what is and our part in it. That's where our guru, Swami Sri Masturbananda, comes in. Because, as in everything else, he leads the way in understanding and practice, being an avatar from the star stuff, sent (in the sense that he's here and it's nice to think he might've been sent).

What a master! To lead us into the glimpses of the higher consciousness, which really aren't so far from any one of us! With just a few well-ordered thoughts, we glimpse great things for five to 10 seconds at a time. We're thinking mostly of our experiences as men, although for women there is a corollary to what we're talking about, involving vibrators and probably some kind of lubricant and a naked picture of Burt Reynolds. Sri Masturbanda can be their avatar too. They just need to realize, as I'm sure they do, that he has a man's equipment, and they'll need to adjust the teachings to their circumstances as appropriate.

Sitting far away from Mother India as I am, I can only remember the master, and picture him in my mind as he would sometimes appear in the morning. I'm thinking of morning because really that's when the day really gets going. And that's what I like about it, that the day is officially underway when morning happens. I for one am up and at 'em, ready to go, ready to make the most of everyday. We look up at the sun -- star stuff, too -- and we love it!

Sri Masturbananda, as I so easily can recall, would be out in the morning. He would go for a walk by the Ganges. His chelas (students), at his direction, had put an outhouse for him in a vacant lot. The door was faced to the east, so the streaming sunlight could come through the little half moon window. It's hard to say precisely what he was doing in there, except I know as the sun became full, it was right at that moment when we would hear a shriek from within, and occasionally the roof would blow off and land fairly far afield, and after a few minutes a very content and apparently weakened Masturbananda would emerge, and the day was started in earnest. He'd leave, they'd hose it out and reattach the roof for the next day...

Like I said, I watch the Science Channel quite a bit. And you know, I don't know for sure, but I wouldn't doubt it if the master's the one keeping the sun going! Because who knows, maybe if the sun didn't see this happen, his outhouse exploding and all the rest, it'd just go back down and we'd be left in darkness. It's worth wondering about. But be that as it may, the sun does come up and it pleases the master immensely. And you know what? It's good for me too ... how about you?

Sri Masturbananda may be far away in Mother India. And we're here. But that doesn't mean we can't join him in this wonderful work. Whether it's an outhouse, or your own bed, or your bathroom, you too can greet the sun -- and maybe keep it up -- with your own personal morning celebration!

To conclude, I quote from the great Alice Cooper song, "Sun Arise":

Sun arise come every mornin'
Bringin' back the warmth to the ground.

The Flying Masturbananda

It may sound unusual for an Indian guru also to be a human cannonball, but, hey, there's no telling what these guys will do. They're totally free, and like anyone else they have other interests besides holiness. Especially, as in this case, when there's lessons for his chelas (students) to learn.

Of course in the case of Swami Sri Masturbananda, he is full of grace for his followers, leading them in ecstasy, and doing for them whatever he can to lead them in the higher experiences of divine consciousness. The consciousness comes in precious glimpses, five to 10 seconds at a time, then you're left waiting till next time, so he wants to do everything he can.

Plus, being a human cannonball matches up with his teachings in interesting ways. It's kind of ironic, really; you've got a guy shot from a long protuberance, his flight the high point, what the audience came to see, and when it's over, it's over. There's certain parallels there. The fire is heating up the works, the cannon swells to twice its normal size, finally the metal throbs in rhythm to the heat pulsations, then in a very wet and wild finish out spews the ... performer.

What the audience sees, though, isn't all there is. I've witnessed Swami Masturbananda's performances many times. It looks like exactly what you'd expect. He's in the cannon. He's shot. He flies through the air in a predictable arc. He lands in a net, then stands up to receive the applause of the crowd. But there's more, at least according to his testimony.

With such an advanced being, an avatar sent from on high, of course he's going to see things from more of a heavenly perspective. He says his experience has a lot more to it, including the feeling of ascension and a sense of mental/spiritual dispersion. Going from the cannon to the net, to him seems like it takes forever, because his mind and spirit are soaring into those more subtle regions.

And so the teacher teaches certain things for all of us, which is precious, the deepening of our daily experiences, especially in the activities the swami is noted for. In our activities, we also can look for a deeper experience. We're not just being slaphappy, but every second can be joined to eternity. We might see the end from the beginning, meaning it's an experience that carries with it a spirit of mourning. But he leads us by his example to savor our higher consciousness.

To see the master soaring through the air, and also to know how he is joined to eternity even in those three seconds, is to know there is so much more for us as well. What a blessed master, who will go to any length for his beloved ones!

So try to remember these lessons, as you face the constant issues of tumescence and detumescence. Don't simply rush to the net! Savor the journey from here to there.

Swami Masturbananda -- Never Stoved Up

Of course it's a terrible feeling to be stoved up. Whether it's, say, something to do with going to the bathroom and you're taking laxatives, or anything else. What else it might be, that's a good question. I'm sure if I turned my mind to such a task, I eventually would think of some other way a person might occasionally be stoved up, especially if he's a guy.

As to women, whether they ever get stoved up, frankly I don't know. If any of them do, you'd have to assume they'd have to be ... what my cousin used to call ... nymphomaniacs. I've honestly never met a nymphomaniac who's ever made her condition known to me, and the way I heard it told, if you ever meet one you'll know it! There's something obviously wrong with them -- they've got some kind of issue, if they can't restrain themselves and hang out with the other women who can. I never met any women who were much of a go-er, if you know what I mean, although, of course, my own grandmother owned the book "Sex and the Single Girl."

So where are we, precisely? Women who can't restrain themselves are abnormal. But men are normal. I don't mean they can't restrain themselves as to "going for it," because clearly we can. Maybe guys who collect syrup from trees can't restrain themselves, but I'll leave that for a future topic. Clearly, we can restrain ourselves, since that's one of the ways you get stoved up. You might be anal, literally anal retentive, and not want to go. On the half acre where I live that used to be a common condition, since we had to go to the outhouse. Then it could carry over as a condition into this other area.

Men restrain themselves all the time, without trying to be too graphic about it. Asceticism, trying to please the Lord. Or because they've got a big date on Saturday and don't want to take chances. Trying to please the Lord is probably one of the biggest reasons men get stoved up. Because we instinctively know, through years of conditioning and acculturation in church, that it's a no-no. Although, suspiciously, it's one of the things they keep fairly hush hush. I don't hear too much criticism of it, for whatever reason. About the only time it comes up, now that I think of it, is if some naive 12 year old boy asks about it at the Youth Rap. The leader doesn't chuckle or anything, but you can tell he's uncomfortable with it. He's got that verse about looking on a woman with lust in your heart.

There is a guy at one of the churches I know, Pastor Wadd, who is quite vocal about anything having to do with sex. His big specialty is counseling men (and women, if he ever finds any) about sexual addictions. You know you're addicted if things get out of hand, or perhaps I should say, if they don't get out of hand. And if you're living hand to mouth, of course that's worse, because either there's two involved or you're a very agile contortionist. Anyway, Pastor Wadd is so strict about sex, you'd just love to ask him what his own experiences are. But it'd probably turn out that he's clean, like most of the pastors I've heard of who are concerned with what goes on in other people's bedrooms. I heard him say one time, "I'm happy to address such a large group of horny sinners." It's a great icebreaker.

I was at that meeting. And some guy, who should've known he wasn't going to get anywhere with Pastor Wadd, boldly stated that he'd heard that regular male sexual activity, they say, helps prevent prostate cancer. Of course he thought he had the old boy right where he wanted him, but the pastor deflected him in a great way. He said, "I believe most of us would rather take a chance on cancer to avoid certain shame." And that's not a bad argument. That's also why he doesn't think we should drink wine; there may be a chance we'll avoid heart troubles, but the shame we'll get is certain.

Well, I'm torn on some of this. Because Pastor Wadd is an influence, being a local holy man. But my guru, Swami Sri Masturbananda, over in India, has a whole different take. As you'd probably guess, he's never stoved up. I'd bet there's not a newborn baby with cleaner pipes than this old guy. If there's a flake of plaque buildup in his proximal vas, I'd like to see it. Especially with his well-known fervor and vigor. This is the guy who blew the bathroom vent fan off the top of his house! No one can look on him in his heat and live!

Sri Masturbananda and Pastor Wadd, remarkably, have the same goal, the experience of union with God. But if I had to choose which is the more conventional of the two, it'd have to be Pastor Wadd. Because Masturbananda is unusual even among other gurus. They're noted for teaching asceticism, or if that's not entirely accurate, saying we should "transmute" the inner energy of the vital essence, etc., which just sounds like a fancy way of saying it's a no-no. They believe stifling nature leads to the super-nature, debatable.

The swami doesn't believe that for a second. Because, just to recap, he knows most of us aren't going to get to the fullness of divinity for at least a million incarnations. Giving us plenty of time to suffer. And so, to relieve suffering, and, amazingly, to show us glimpses of the highest consciousness here and now, he encourages us to follow him in these blessed acts.

It must work. I don't really know if Pastor Wadd is ever stoved up. I would guess his wife helps out around the house. But one person I know isn't stoved up, and that's the blessed master.

A Live Turkey At The Restaurant

This is an undoctored photo. No doctors were consulted in the making of it.
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I was at the restaurant yesterday, which was busy. So I got to spend some time in the waiting room. Even though there were plenty of tables in plain sight. I was there so long, I expected a nurse to call me in for a urine sample.
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I started observing everyone. There was a guy right by the cash register, waiting for a refill on his coffee. He got the refill and immediately went into the bathroom. I thought that was odd. Why not let the waitress get the coffee, tell her he's going to give a urine sample, and he'll get the coffee when he gets back? I wouldn't want to take my drinks into the bathroom.
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Maybe Karen and Richard Carpenter were there. After I waited for a while, the hostess called out "Carpenter." At first I thought of the Seinfeld episode where the Chinese guy calls out "Cartwright." My name isn't Carpenter. Then I thought, maybe the Carpenters are here. Maybe I'll see the late Karen Carpenter come by, asking me if I thought I'd be out there long, to which I could've said, "We've only just begun."
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After a while it was Standing Room Only in the waiting room. In fact, there was a 10 minute wait just for a bench.
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Someone had put a live turkey in the arcade claw machine. That was weird. A live turkey as a prize! But it was a moneymaker. Kids kept dropping the claw on its head, but it gobbled in alarm and pulled away. It was disgusting. It was getting turkey droppings all over the other toys.
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I came up with a pun for "peeing up a storm," which was hurinecane. The guy with the coffee made me think of that, since coffee has that effect on me. Being in the bathroom with the coffee might not be such a bad idea.
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I looked outside and saw a couple yellow motorcycles speeding by. It reminded me of a show I saw on TV about a guy in Israel who robbed banks. He'd speed away on a yellow motorcycle. It took them forever to catch him. So I was crying out, "It's that Israeli!" But everyone looked skeptical. "No, it is really!"
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I heard a waiter asking a customer, "Did everything come out all right?" I thought that was a little personal.
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I also came up with a syndicated cartoon strip (potential) that involves side by side graves.
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That's Earl, brother!

The Pink Professor Debates

What do people go to a bikers' bar for? There's the obvious; you see bikers pulling in en masse, slapping each other on the back, rolling cigarettes, and going in to drink. Drinking and cameraderie's obviously the thing.

But then what difference is there if you add a Pink Professor character to the mix? A Lord Fauntleroy kind of guy, but an adult, who unabashedly nurtures an effeminate intellectual character in the midst of so much roughness. Who becomes accepted over the years, a trustworthy person, nonjudgmental, and familiar.

Personally, I think a Pink Professor could be accepted very rapidly, within a couple weeks even. Because familiarity is established quickly, especially if he's there a few times when everyone else arrives. The more they see you sitting there, acting comfortably, sipping your wine, the less strange it is. And if you have a kind smile and a caring attitude, you've got it made.

I think bikers are looking for love, security, and stability just like anyone else. To me, it's obvious they're characters with a real drive for tradition and ritual. Just look at all the flags and souvenirs from Sturgis they have, the Harley Davidson hats, shirts, and so forth. They're no different than anyone else.

If I'm a Pink Professor, let's say, I'm going to be one of the gang within two weeks, guaranteed. And I dare say, it's happen especially if I kept up the flamboyance and affectations. After the initial shock, that's something they'd appreciate, someone distinctive, perhaps an outcast in other circles but welcome here.

If I could be that guy -- I'm just daydreaming, I'm not going to spend my life as a Pink Professor in a bikers' bar -- I could see myself setting up debates within the facility on various topics. Or a symposium, like on what I said above, the appreciation of tradition and ritual. That'd blow their minds ... and the short story is they'd love you that much more, because you've embraced what's important to them as an honored discipline.

As for the debates, maybe they'd have disagreements -- I'm sure they would. And we assume they'd want to resolve it by shivs and chains, guns and fisticuffs. But what if we could debate the various issues of biker life? The Pink Professor wouldn't want to "lay a heavy trip" on them or anything. He'd start it out as just an informal "bull session" over by the dancers' stage, three or four guys. Then someone else comes over, noticing the Pink Professor's calm, non-threatening, interested demeanor. And before you know it, they're resolving things through debate and consensus.

I really do believe that bikers are softies at heart. I spent some time once with a guy from the Hell's Angels (true story). He and I were traveling on the interstate out in California in the '70s, and he confessed to me that he couldn't read. So I was a Pink Professor kind of guy to him, helping him with the road signs, etc. We stopped at a grocery store and I was able to read to him the labels on packages. I remember pointing out to him which was the turkey meat and which was the ham. When we parted, I wondered how the guy was able to find his way on roads before me, and how he was able to pick out meat. My conclusion was that he so appreciated my accepting Pink Professor-like attitude toward him that he allowed me to help him with something he already knew how to do. (This paragraph -- you might not believe it -- is 100% true and actually happened.)

I've met bikers since then as well, here and there. Of course a lot of them are getting to be old-timers now, and you figure they've got the natural mellowing of age. But even back then, if you treated them with respect, they were very friendly.

A great Pink Professor debate might be on the issue of "Whether our best days are behind us," that sort of thing. That's an issue that would resonate with me in a debate ... or at least a good discussion. I'm planning for my upcoming 1000th Grandma Slump posting to be something like that, whether I'm as good as I'll ever be.

And so, beloved friends of the bikers' bar, this is the Pink Professor wishing you all a good night. Just let me say to you fellas, you'll feel better if you don't drink too much and if you get a good night's sleep. But why am I telling you that? You already know it's true!

The Pink Professor

On September 23, 2010, I worked up my courage and went walking into a bikers' bar. I'd been by the place a hundred times and wondered what it'd be like to go in, but naturally I was very reluctant. I'd hate to be cornered and made to regret it.

Of course everyone in the place turned to examine me up and down as soon as the door closed. Was I a narc? Was I there to repossess a bike, that is a motorcycle? Was I lost? Was I seriously coming through the door? I thought I saw a couple waitresses laughing about something.

No one gave me a bit of trouble going in. I was searching my brain, in relation to the setting, to determine what would be the right etiquette for taking a table and getting served. I must've looked clumsy. The whole place was unfamiliar to me, but I recognized what looked like tables across the way, and indeed they were. I sat.

So far, so good. And it went like that. To make a long story short, the waitress waited on me, I got my food, etc., and nothing untoward whatsoever happened. It was just like sitting in any other place. Except ... they were shooting photos for some kind of calendar, so a few waitresses stood in a provocative way at the bar, leading to a few hoots! from the bikers -- or at least it would've had any bikers actually been there. There weren't any at that time.

I was giving the waitresses a few appraising stares -- looking them up and down, when they weren't looking in my direction. There's a few places on women's bodies that tend to get my attention, but I keep a vigilant lookout for their eyes as well, so I'm able to nonchalantly look away. Had there been any bikers, I might've gotten beat up. Because with my appraising stares, I can tell you what they're worth to the penny, and that means I'm looking in some detail.

Anyway, it was an uneventful night. The food came. I ate it. I left.

But while there, I had a thought for a good character. And if I were an effeminate guy, I could probably make my personality match up with this character, at least in theory: The Pink Professor.

Like I said, the Pink Professor is effeminate, but he also has been made to fit right in with a bikers' gang, the gang that hangs out at "this fine establishment." Of course he would have to speak in those sorts of terms.

How would he have gotten to be someone the bikers accept and appreciate? His back story probably would have to start much like me going into the place. He would be accepted just because he's been there over the years, he's proven to be trustworthy, they feel he's classy, and he's kind of a mascot. Maybe, too, as a professor, he's helped them with some of the trivia games they always have on the computer. There's lots of reasons they'd like a Pink Professor sort of guy.

I was thinking of him like Little Lord Fauntleroy. Maybe warning some ne'er-do-well that the rest of the gang will "teach you a lesson that you shan't forget." The others are playing pool, having played it as young delinquent boys. P.P. "took a class" in it. I myself actually did both (but I wasn't a delinquent), learned it growing up and also took a class.

Pink Professor also explains the biker's bar to outsiders who happen to be visiting. Like with pool. "When they hit the balls like that, that's called a break."

And he often crosses his legs, while the others sit straight-legged.

Swami Masturbananda -- The Life Of The Party

A WEEK ON THE TEACHINGS OF SRI MASTURBANANDA (7)

There's many reasons to follow the teachings of Swami Sri Masturbananda. One, they're beautiful in every way, as he leads us in beholding glimpses of divine consciousness, several seconds at a time. And another, there's so much more ahead, as we couple that with a deepening awareness of our standing in divinity. The good news is, even if it takes us a million incarnations to advance in that, the glimpses aren't going anywhere. We can huff and puff and blow the house down every day of the week.

I've been thinking of the master all day, thinking of his example, and how he leads the way. There's really no one else quite like him, so full of grace ... and, uh, the pearly essence. He doesn't just make allowances for the workings of the flesh, he encourages it. And even though he is so far advanced, being among the highest avatars of deity, he's still grounded in the here and now, showing his chelas (students) the best ways it's done.

It's hard to believe he's -- I don't know -- maybe 200 years old, maybe older, but through his daily rounds of meditation, he gets it on like a 20 year old. The lesson there is, it doesn't matter ... when you're eternal, in mind and body, 20 or 2,000's all the same. So in that, too, there's a message for us. Your bathroom is a blessed portal to the eternal realms.

Sri Masturbananda, then, is one to know, to cherish, and to emulate. So it has always been, maybe going back to the first caveman. I'd like to think the swami made preincarnational visits to the world even back then. Let's say you've got a frustrated caveman. He thinks life is nothing but flint knives and arrowheads. His dad was killed in a dinosaur stampede. His mom bundled him up and took him to The Land Before Time. He's like ... 20 years old, right at the peak of his powers, but he doesn't know it. Then Sri Masturbananda comes hovering in a vision, explaining, in clinical language of course, the facts of life. For the young man, this explains why the dinosaurs are playing piggyback all the time. Then, next thing you know, the young guy's got a grasp ... on matters ... and it all ends rather happily.

Whether that happened or not, one thing's for sure, the master has been active in recent centuries. Wherever he makes his appearances, the world gives him great acclaim. Seriously, the guy's always the life of the party.

In India, the master's homeland, they have religious fairs every 12 years called the Kumbha Mela. Swamis, gurus, and holy men and women come from near and far to set up their tents and offer blessings to the people. You've got tons of people in scanty loincloths, their business hanging out everywhere; it's quite a sight. I was there a few years ago, and I still recall this one guy in a white sheet laying on the ground, his legs up, no underpants, and a direct shot of his business. Frankly, to me it was gross. I saw him walking around a couple days later, and I thought about asking him "how they're hanging," but I already knew!

Anyway, at these fairs, with the assortment of people on hand, you've got a lot of sincere swamis and gurus, and sincere visitors, and you've got a bunch of phonies and frauds. Many swamis are there with their begging bowls, just taking, taking, taking, then fingering you when you turn your back. If it weren't for the true representatives of the divine, it wouldn't be worth going to. They're few and far between, yes. But they are there!

But no matter who is there -- some of the most famous appearances of the legendary guru Babaji have taken place at this festival -- there's one master who outshines the rest, and that is of course Swami Sri Masturbananda. When he's there, everyone gathers 'round, as close as they can get, to hear the teachings and to take part in the action. He'll be in his tent, a beatific look on his face as he teaches. Then when it comes time to practice his meditations -- No man can look upon him in his heat and live! -- he zips the door shut. In those precious moments, everyone beholds the great lights coming forth from his tent, the visitations of nude angels, and the occasional loud sound of splat within. It's a great time for one and all.

The key thing for all of us to understand, though, is that we don't even have to leave our home to be in communion with this saint. Whether it's India, or your own home, your own bathroom, Swami Sri Masturbananda's spirit is there -- right here today -- for each one!

Masturbananda -- Heaven's Just A Fantasy Away

A WEEK ON THE TEACHINGS OF SRI MASTURBANANDA (6)

One of the important teachings of Swami Sri Masturbananda concerns the connection between thought (or fantasy) and reality. They are in fact the same thing. We may tend to think of thought as insubstantial, not as "solid" as an object in front of us. But obviously everything we create starts as a thought.

Plato, a horny bastard with young men if ever there was one, had it right in his philosophy of heavenly archetypes of present and accessible things. The horse we see reveals the ideal, original horse up there somewhere in the big stable in the sky. The body parts we're groping likewise are modeled on something up there. If he is to be believed, the entire universe, reality itself, is busy struttin' its stuff.

That's not too far from Masturbananda's philosophy! Ultimate reality, as though there could be any other kind, wants to get it on with you. You and it are, in fact, already together as one, but as long as we're unaware of it, we're trapped here in suffering.

The master's ultimate purpose is to make this connection fully conscious, joining the divine realms consciously with our daily experience. And so we have the revealing of the divine in our bathroom meditations, with Sri Masturbananda leading the way. He teaches us that there are really no limits, but with our limited perspective, for most of us, we're going to have to be content with glimpses through these ... personal activities.

There's a funny story of an innkeeper in India who was looking for a way to make more money. But he wasn't just content with a fair profit, he wanted to make a killing. Young men were working in the area, harvesting whatever they happen to grow in India, and came to stay at his inn. Knowing how they'd like to unwind at night, he stocked a room with particularly provocative magazines. But instead of charging the cover price, he jacked the prices up threefold.

One day Swami Sri Masturbananda passed that way and, stopping in, naturally wanted to browse what the guy had available. But seeing the crazy ridiculous prices, and knowing in an instant the guy's perfidy, he made a purchase. Then he went to his room, then straight to the bathroom. The master started fantasizing -- joining his unlimited thought to the equally unlimited divine creativity -- and, as it turned out, he left the hotel so full of his glory and effulgence they needed the fire department and all the fire hoses they could supply to clean it out, which left such massive damage the proprietor declared bankruptcy, then finally killed himself.

How did the master do this? It was thinking. And knowing that Heaven's just a fantasy away.

For us, there's also a place in our thinking where we're able to "let go." But you know as well as I that we spend a lot more effort observing our thinking as almost a third party, and so there's blockage. We're opposed to ourselves. Sri Masturbananda's program is that we come to realize the true connection we have with the divine, then live totally according to that awareness. But he recognizes where most of us are, far from the ideal, and so he teaches the physical release as a primary experience. Those are the glimpses of the divine that are meant to lead to so much more.

We see it all around us, nature and ourselves going after this connection. We observe: Even a three legged dog finds a mate, so obviously there's nothing really standing in our way, except ourselves! Sri Masturbananda wants us all to advance as far as we can, with our thinking leading the way ... then getting out of the way!


ON ONAN AND THE ISM NAMED FOR HIM

The biblical character Onan is well known for his bedroom activities, and is the patron saint of many. But the story as we typically hear it focuses on his death. This is where Sri Masturbananda disagrees. Instead of a physical death, the master interprets it as a death to limits and expectations. Onan, quite remarkably, was going beyond, dying to this world and the limitations of consciousness. He was going for greater glimpses of glory. And as it turned out, it was all for the best, since whatever kids he would've fathered would've been nothing but horny profligates anyway. 

Masturbananda -- Mastering The Seven Bodies

A WEEK ON THE TEACHINGS OF SRI MASTURBANANDA (5)

This posting covers some of the advanced principles of metaphysiology as experienced and taught by Swami Sri Masturbananda. In brief, the body we see is actually made up of seven bodies. Each can be discerned and known simultaneously and dealt with as part of our spiritual connection to the divine, our true Self.

As the master has taught repeatedly, the basic premise to grasp before all else is that everything you think you see and know about yourself is false. Once that's dealt with, there is so much to discover, to be revealed, including these teachings on the various bodies that make up the persons we are. There's seven of you! There's a seven-link chain, so to speak, between yourself and the highest consciousness. And the higher you go, the more ethereal and sweeter everything is.

Sri Masturbananda, of course, has known all about these dimensions for a long time, being an avatar of the Highest and yet living on this plane, with the mission to lift us all toward our ultimate destiny. In his teaching and his manner, he is all gracious, knowing that most of us will not accept much, and hence will not achieve much in this incarnation. So he generally keeps his teaching down at the average man's level, revealing only glimpses of divine consciousness through self-gratification. That's not to say he himself doesn't enjoy it; he enjoys everything, especially that.

Whether it's the lowest or the highest, Sri Masturbananda is quite at home in all of it. It has a genuine stimulative effect on him. But naturally he is most at home, and most stimulated, in the highest realms, when he has the fullness of the seven bodies unsheathed. Because then he can dwell in the sevenfold ecstasy, and revel in it, with all the planes operational. His desire is that each of will get this, and know our full nature.

In the illustration, the seven snakes represent all these bodies. Please don't write in with a lot of fears for Sri Masturbananda's safety. He is not -- we repeat, he is not being attacked by snakes. That's just Number 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, representing the sevenfold Self!

Now, what happens when the seven aspects of the Self are present, discerned, and known? Well, I've never actually witnessed it -- that would be certain death to behold the master in his heat. But what he's told me, the little bit he has told me, implies is that it's raw ecstasy. In our terms, it'd be like a big orgy with seven of the loveliest virgins topped off with a communal Calgon bath.

The imagination tries to picture seven Masturbanandas all at once, finding himself, reaching out to his other selves, going at it with his typical jackhammer speed, with the understanding that we're dealing with heavenly beings -- It's got to be raw. In such a setting, the ecstasy, the climaxes that are taking place are beyond our imagination. He did tell me that the more heavenly the body, the more heavenly the flow. We start at our plane, with the natural fluids. Then as the bodies progress, so this aspect progresses. Going up the line in order, from earthly to heavenly, we have 1) our natural fluids, 2) nectar, 3) amrita (some kind of ethereal sweet stuff), 4) soma juice (more ethereal and sweeter yet), 5) double soma, 6) soma ultra, and, 7) pure spirit (so ethereal it's vapor and so sweet one drop causes diabetes).

Anyway, you're giving and you're taking. You've got a handful of this one over here, bodies that are more or less evanescent. Suddenly it's five on one. It's like the Trinity on steroids. This one's dematerializing and popping up somewhere else in the room, maybe reaching around behind you. You'd think it was a hall of mirrors, with so many images of yourself, but some of the bodies of the higher planes resemble you somewhat less, as they're prone to burst into a sort of heatless fire and vanish. One thing's for sure, it's all quite enjoyable. You're literally beside yourself with pleasure...

I could give step by step instructions on how to achieve this level of awareness and ecstasy in meditation. There are really no yogic injunctions against it. And, believe me, it's truly a transcendental scene! But I don't want to bore anyone. Most people have had a hard day, or they've got a lot on their mind, and I know most of us don't want to be bothered with a lot of extraneous details, especially instructions that we don't necessarily have a lot of time to follow anyway. Frankly, most of us have enough to deal with with the body we see without wanting to worry about others. So I'll spare you.

Everything in its time. The teachings will come ... someday when you're ready. Because, yes, Sri Masturbananda is here to make these revelations and lead us all in it. He wants us all to know for ourselves the glimpses of glory, and to have the real experiences of divine consciousness.

Swami Masturbananda -- The 60 Second Man

A WEEK ON THE TEACHINGS OF SRI MASTURBANANDA (4)

I'm going to be quick writing this first part, trying to get it typed in the time it takes for Swami Sri Masturbananda to achieve ecstasy in his meditations. I'm a fast thinker as well as a fast typist, but quite frankly I can't keep up with a jackhammer. The man is quick, scanning his memory and imagination for provoking fantasies that will, without fail, take him into those divine realms, the highest consciousness. He glimpses it for himself, and he leads the way for the rest of us.

[I failed. That took me a little over 60 seconds. I probably could've physically typed it in 60 seconds, but when you have to write it at the same time, that takes some time. But in that brief amount of time, the master would've been done and would've been cooling his hands in the lavatory.]


THE TIME HE COULDN'T DO IT IN 60 SECONDS

The story goes, at one time Sri Masturbananda was really down, weighed down by the sins of the world and, we believe, was working out in his own body the collective karma of all. Either that or it could've been a serious migraine.

To make a long story short, his meditation times also were going nowhere. He was scanning his fantasies, focusing in on the more lascivious aspects of the chakras and the whole bit, sweating it out in the bathroom. But then, after a few frustrating minutes, he was back out. Nothing! As a result, all nature seemed to be suffering, creeks driving up, then smaller rivers, then even the great Ganges River itself.

People along the banks of these waterways were grabbing the necklines of their clothes, suffering the stifling heat and other terrible effects of nature's despondency. They sent him many risque French postcards, the message imploring him to ignore the message and turn the thing over!

Teams of the master's chelas (students) presented him with lines of beauties brought in from around the country. The beauties paraded through his ashram, doing Charleston squats in the nude. But Sri Masturbananda waved them all off: "Away! It's no use!"

The suffering went on. Everyone was chewing his tongue from anguish. It was quite a sight, nothing good about it.

Then what? The Master came out of his ashram and walked along the dry banks of the Ganges. He looked like Job in a loincloth. The sun over him was enlarged, and hotter than anyone could stand.

But then ... this is great! ... Heaven itself intervened, sending a message of reassurance, signs in the clouds that everyone could behold, designed to stimulate the master. Giant shapes were being formed in the clouds, and they were crystal clear: Cleavage so big it was like your grandma's, only about half that age. An orgy of big-boned women and men was in full swing. These were the gods! The winds shifted left and right, jostling all these shapes back and forth. They were trading partners in a rousing session of hunka hunka burning love. All in all, it was a great sign, the smiling of the cosmos, announcing that the karmic debt had been paid!

Sri Masturbananda beheld the signs, then, at a trot, ran to his ashram and everyone knew where he was headed, the bathroom! All eyes watched the renewed swami disappearing through the door. Now there was nothing to see. They could only wait. But suddenly they heard the sound of a roaring fan. It was the vent over the bathroom! The fan was turning faster and faster, and finally it blew off the building and landed about a hundred yards away in a field.

From the vent then came such a mixture of steam and smoke, they couldn't tell which was which. The word went out: "Either we have a new pope -- or the old boy's back!"

Then the master appeared at the door, smiling like the sun itself. The vapor from his hands ascended, making rain clouds in the sky. Soon water began flowing down and the Ganges rose once again. Birds returned to their trees, unpacked their nests and sat up housekeeping once more.

Other interesting phenomena included the dead being raised and going back home. Antique stores had to return their possessions, to the relief of nervous survivors.

The 60 second man was back!

Everyone's karmic debt being covered by the master's substance, everyone lived happily ever after, every man a brother. And their women bore them young.

Swami Masturbananda: "Cherish Your Time Alone"

A WEEK ON THE TEACHINGS OF SRI MASTURBANANDA (3)

The yogi alone in his cave is something we all can picture. It's an inspiring image, an exalted being who's found a hole in the midst of a rock and has climbed in there for his meditations.

We're picturing Swami Sri Masturbananda today in a cave like that, but we ask that you realize it's for illustrative purposes only, as he doesn't actually like caves. Too many inconveniences and a lack of creature comforts. You've got bugs, spiders, bats, bears, and the occasional hobo stumbling in to sleep off a bender. For these reasons and many more, and remember, Sri Masturbananda is all wise, he prefers the warmth and comfort of his own ashram, where his personal bathroom is all the "cave" he needs.

The message we want to focus in on today is not where your alone time is found -- a cave would do nicely if you don't mind roughing it -- but that you get away somewhere, and that you spend a lot of quality time meditating the Masturbananda way. Pull away somewhere alone, then pull away.

Frankly, it's left to our imaginations what precisely he's doing in the bathroom. We feel we have something of a good idea what's going on, but how he manages it every step of the way is what we're not privy to. And certainly we're not privy to the extent of his consciousness, what his experiences are in relation to the divine, and what all revelations are granted him in those seconds or moments of complete release. Just going by the sound of it, he must be creating new worlds in other dimensions!

I myself, as one of his disciples, meeting him in Mother India, came about as close as anyone to witnessing his ecstasy, being allowed to sit outside the door. I summarized it a couple days ago, but just to touch on it again briefly, to say his meditations are turbocharged would not be an exaggeration. I like seeing things in person, I really do, but if that's not possible, my imagination is fertile enough to fill in the blanks. I could tell you in very explicit terms what I believe it sounded like, but I'm trying to keep this blog family-friendly. Nothing "blue" allowed. So just let me say, if he's experiencing what it sounds like he's experiencing, the whole thing is very hot, and copious. This guy's a jackhammer.

Of course as an avatar sent with an important teaching for us in the world, he's not simply here for his own awareness, consciousness, and enjoyment; he's here to lead us all in the way of life. This is where he's different from so many other teachers, who teach the way of asceticism and years of long, unfulfilled searching. Sri Masturbananda declares that the glimpses of the highest consciousness he has are for every man, through using wisely (and regularly) the equipment our Creator gave us.

For that purpose, we all need plenty of alone time, to meditate and to receive those times of blessing, the flashes of divine ecstasy in the precious seconds we have. The master retires to his bathroom or some other retreat -- he would go to a cave if that's all he had, despite the bugs and other inconveniences -- and there he is vitally in touch with the glory. If it's important for such an advanced being as Sri Masturbananda, how much more would it be for lesser men!

And the master is one who counsels us in that. He doesn't just leave us alone to our own devices; he gives us counsel to seek out those alone times, even saying, in his grace, that we should cherish our time alone. Because, guess what, we're not really alone. The center and heart of the universe is everywhere, right there where we are. It is a work of grace that we're able to ascend as we do, ever building toward that full release, then to find it, even if it's just for seconds. We see it -- we feel it -- the ecstasy at the heart of life, whether it's for seconds (or eternity).

This is what the master wants for you today!