Messing With My Toot Toot

Part 5 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

I’m not the kind of guy that likes to give people orders. As an example, “Don’t mess with my toot toot” has been an uncomfortable thing. Even though that’s what I’d secretly have to say, it violates the old adage that you catch more flies with honey than explosives. Honey attracts, explosives repel. So I go to a lot of  extra work -- people assume I have all the time in the world to waste when actually I’m getting fairly old -- of saying such roundabout things as, “Please make every effort to keep your hands and other relevant body parts, stationery or moving appendages, from contact with my sacred toot toot.” As nice as that is, it leads to problems. It sounds negotiable.

But also, just like I said, I’m getting fairly old and now the demand for my toot toot isn't what it was when I was 25 and cute, regardless of how monstrously virile I still am. But privately. It doesn’t bother me so much, a toot toot like this, but I’ve seen other guys -- not as cool and mild-mannered as me -- rubbing theirs, exposing theirs, and thrusting their hips in inappropriate ways and places. Lunch lines, movie lines, church. “Oh, did I bump you? I’ve had vertigo since I turned 90.” Definitely, if you’ve turned 90 and you’re still thrusting your toot toot recklessly enough to bump someone, with the likely shrinkage, it’s probably not vertigo! But if it is, from your point of view, Vive le vertige!

Actually I’m a private guy and realistic. Even if they were lined up around the block to mess with my toot toot, I’d rather they didn’t. I’ve always had that  kind of reticence even when the pickins’ was easy. I'm thankful for a paranoia that’s never left my side for a minute, and if it did I'd be helpless. I remember when I was about 13 and had no idea about anything. Then, like creation out of nothing, everything big-banged into place, a tiny bit of guidance from relatives and friends. I also learned about things that could be wrong physically, diseases. And then quickly sketched out my first insights having to do with "There’s Death in Them Thar Drawers!" It bummed me out at first, but I soon invested heavily in the mission of Health Over Carnality Everytime!

Meaning Free Love was never temptation. Don’t mess with my toot toot! Rock Festivals weren’t a temptation. Don’t mess with my toot toot! Even Hitchhiking wasn’t a temptation. Don’t mess with my toot toot, and no I won’t go to a motel with you. Midlife crises weren’t any temptation, of course. My toot toot and I will be retiring early this evening, thanks for nothing. Discipline is the whole thing, along, again, with a very helpful bent from the lifesaving combination of paranoia, contemplation, and willpower. So to this day, whoever you are, Hollywood star or dude in the gutter ... Don’t mess with my toot toot.

Bad Behavior: Devils & Warthogs

Part 12 of 30 -- Psycho Squad

Raising well-behaved adorable kids is one of the hardest things you can do. Especially these days when every kid tries to consciously out-psycho the next. I’m glad I haven’t got legitimate prospects if for no other reason than that. It’s a thankless task; were I in the market I’d take myself out and join a monastery. Or convent, depending how I swung. Still, the temptation is a bad habit to break, although lots easier with age.

So, fortunately, it’s a one-sided love affair for me these days when it comes to mating. Because everyone's understandably scared by an old man approaching the age of death. Which helps save my underlying vigor; I’m not at loose ends, not wasting my substance, but using it for the inner vigor, killing people with kindness and the force of ideas, not just looks. Any residual frustration I have, I invest it into corralling psychos and getting them help. I get a lot of laughs with some of the nurses, handling my cases with exaggerated kids' gloves. Like bloody murder just waiting to happen.

But, really, the best advice you can give another guy is, "Look before you leap, brother." And spell it out as clearly as you can without being a bore. Because sometime before that point you've already said too much. You have to just release them and know they'll misbehave, they must learn. These days are a lot looser, of course, which clearly makes things worse for them. Because at some level love partners actually want romance and restraint, not your bare-ass business dangling and bobbing and straining in their face. 

I won’t bore you with the language of romance. But if you don't get it, you're doomed to a life of skags, runny-nose cross-eyed kids, fights, divorce, estrangement, a bad reputation, and of course a persistent itch. You'll be tossing in bed, trying to sleep, but knowing you're not the only life-form in your body, and that's a huge mental weight. Itch leads to inflammation, which leads to burning, which leads to various back alley doctors, which leads to payday loans, stolen cars, and sleeping in a dumpster. With one eye open and a gun. Friends, before any of that happens, grow up, find a sweet girl and give her candy, meet the parents, take an interest in civic affairs, and be responsible.

I don’t envy anyone these days, kids or parents. Sometimes the parents are only about half grown up themselves. And the kids aren’t thought charming unless they’re in juvenile hall. There’s a whole different vibe these days, behavior up the wazoo, out the you know what (ass). Not happy unless they're underfoot, smarting off, flipping off their betters, opposed to morality, slandering the spirits above, spouting lies, burning flags, doing drugs in church, taking knees at football games, sleeping around, having kids out of wedlock younger than themselves, and putting up absolutely no fight in the fierce war against good values and basic primate sense.

What would I do with kids and their terrible behavior these days? First, arrest the parents. And once the bad influence was subdued, they’d have a better chance in an orphanage of growing up normal. That is to say, as far as doing the right thing, I’m not sure they really stand a chance. It can be tough to get in an orphanage. But get them there! Surround them with devils to tempt them but enormous warthogs to hold them back! And when they turn 18, they're a better person!

Moms and dads, love your kids, if it’s not too inconvenient. Or I will be over with the Psycho Squad, billing you for an expensive ambulance ride, more money for me and a lot more grief for you.

Mentality Half-Formed, Totally Stupid

No. 13 of 30 -- Guidance Counselor series

Through this hardhitting guidance counselor series, I have rightly portrayed myself as the aggrieved party. With the guidance counselor being the supposedly responsible adult with an actual profession of “guidance” and “counseling” to uphold and perform. Far from what I was, an innocent high school kid, not an adult, with the innocent psyche of a half-formed, mentally bereft person, barely there at all.

It's so hard to picture me as immature, but I was. Because look at me today. People look at me, they point to me, maybe they read my blog and say, “There’s no one more mature, more responsible or qualified to lead the youth of tomorrow.” And it’s so true. I always take the position most aligned with good behavior, benefits for all, and responsibility. It’s not for nothing that my blog was voted “Best Blog to Fall Asleep To” three years in a row by the juvenile delinquents in my neighborhood. It was also a true survey, the results not determined, like most, by payoffs.

But I seriously wasn’t precisely an infant in a playpen in high school, but virtually. I didn’t know anything about anything. If you would’ve told me that babies came from baby factories and parents picked them up, I would’ve believed it. The closest thing to sex I knew was dirty magazines, which in those days weren’t explicit. More cartoons than anything, all hinting around about something but never quite coming out and showing it. Not like we have today, a fully inflamed wanton moisturized ready-to-go double-page spread and engraved invitation unmistakable in begging eyes.

So when I showed up at the guidance counselor’s office, I wasn't ready to be under his thumb and wasn't prepared to take him on. I appreciate it today that kids are schooled a lot more in what adults can do to them and the signs they need to watch for and the responsible things to do as a response. Back then they simply trusted adults and suspected kids of being dummies, which I at least was.

So we might wonder how did wrestling coaches get away with so much? And how did guidance counselors manage to break their students psychologically? With so few consequences. There was an stupid innocence and lack of awareness then that adults are up to no good if given half a chance. So these guys could commit murder and it'd be your fault...

It makes my blood boil, at least simmer, to see an adult guidance counselor in the same playpen as an innocent baby (representing me) wailing like he’s somehow the aggrieved party. I’d like to grab that lousy stinking bastard by the scruff of the neck, or let’s say cinch his tie up a little tighter for him. Then with his head straining like a filthy pimple, engage him toward expanding his professional disciplinary horizons. "You bastard" is right! How dare you?!

I'm Taking It To The Institute of Mental Parasitism

My admission of guilt, my mea culpa, when I was called on the carpet for supposedly disclosing "dangerous secrets" of the craft, was met with a huge thud at the Institute and rejected -- not enough, they said! After I humbled myself in abject servility, putting everything on the line, my pride, my self worth, my dignity, just so I might be in the good graces of the Great Ones, the Lordly Poobahs, (wastrels, no doubt), self-appointed as the high and mighty, acting as gatekeepers, protectors of the sacred flame, as it were, of mental parasitism!

That's the way it usually is -- Am I right? -- with those who cannot be questioned, those who dwell in ivory towers, so far above the rest of us mere mortals. They always want you to jump just a little bit higher, or grovel just a little bit lower. They can't be bothered to specify precisely what they want. Then you try to contact them, and naturally they're out of the office, busy with some other important task, no doubt, perhaps roaming the world hobnobbing with their fellow grandees and looking for others to censure. That very well could be true, because there's hundreds of MP practitioners, and most of them, like me, are independent types.

When I first heard of this matter, I immediately figured they were out to get me, and that their means would in all likelihood be devious. Because I'm a plum, you see. I'm a ripe plum out there for the picking. With a popular blog and influence that stretches around the world. Who would be a juicier plum for them, with all that plus my personal mojo and verve! They're always on the lookout for guys like me, the gifted and skilled. They're insecure! They want the mental parasitism powers I have, to absorb them and pluck me off the vine, thereby keeping themselves stronger. And this goes for others like me. They have us belonging to their rather unholy club -- that's our validation, in a sense, because there's always the enhancement of one's practice through being part of a dedicated group. Why else would we submit to these scurvy monkeys?

So it's times like these, frankly, that I'd like to scream. When the Institute's receptionist says, "Dr. X can't come to the phone right now; he's in conference." I bet he is! Rubbing his grubby hands together in jealousy and lust along with the rest of the criminal element of the Institute, authority run amok. Willing to take our dues -- of course! -- sucking up to us when it's renewal time, then despicably dumping on us (plenty of dissing) the rest of the year!

I ought to--- I really ought to -- Don't get me started, OK? But a guy thinks, "I could do this better with one hand." I could run the organization better. I'd treat the membership with respect. No more censures, no more increased dues when there's the slightest controversy, trying to keep people in your thrall, keep them over a barrel, always demanding they measure up, make them meet your stinking standards. Because mental parasitism isn't a matter of standards, it's a way of life, in my opinion, best determined by the practitioner himself.

I'm this close (inches) from starting my own Institute! I know there's surely hundreds of guys (and gals, in the Auxiliary) disgruntled like me. It's just a matter of making contact with them, getting the word out. Say I went on Twitter, which has its downside because it's so public. Or we could get together on one of those sharing sites for documents. "Here's my idea." "That's a great idea, here's mine." "We've got two pretty good ideas, let's see if someone else wants to join us." Bam, you've got a brand new Institute!

If that's what I'm going to do, I'll probably have to be like the Declaration of Independence guys, and come up with a page of grievances. That we cannot work through this, that, and the other thing, no matter what we do. Then mail letters to some of the other disgruntleds, saying, "Let's get it on!" And have our own Mental Parasitism Institute, where there's absolutely no rules, or fewer rules. Such as the "Do as little harm as you can" rule. If I want to reduce a dozen or even a hundred mentally alert victims to a writhing, unconscious, naked mass, like hideous snakes in a pit, that's my business! No ethics, no nothing. Do it yourself. Come up with it on the fly.

Of course we'll want to stay out of each other's way as much as possible. And hold to a few common sense standards of conducting business. Like watching out for each other's well being. Good stuff. Then, say, someone does go off the beam and threatens the common well-being, I can see how that would be a definite negative. Do we stand together or do we fall? Do we hang together or separately?

In short, we need a few helpful bylaws for our common congregate discipline, so everyone stays on the same page as much as possible, for everyone's mutual good. And I see it, if someone goes way too far, such as literally sharing the deepest secrets over the express objections of the group, he should be called on it, brought to heel. I feel that we will flourish the most when we remain together, sharing the teachings and maintaining a sweet spirit of camaraderie. If only the current Institute felt the same way.

Paradise Restored -- The Monk and The Nun

In my opinion, this has to be the happiest story ever. If you're ever down and blue and want a happy story to cheer you up, anytime, anywhere, please bookmark this page, then you can return to it time after time. I know I'm going to, because, frankly, there are those times when even I, an ordinarily cheerful person, need a lift. Here you get that lift! This is a story of "Paradise Restored."

We're all familiar with "Paradise Lost." Not only was it a great poetic work by John Milton, beyond him it is a concept, from Milton's point of view biblical, but really a common story in humanity's experience. Even if it's something as minor as a child's disappointment over a toy. But we're not all familiar with "Paradise Restored," which also was one of Milton's works, but not nearly as good. I for one haven't bookmarked it.

OK ... on with the feelgood experience of a lifetime ...

This is the story of two young lovers, probably a lot like Romeo and Juliet, head over heels in love. As is typical with two hot hormonally-driven kids. You probably remember the feeling. Nature is calling, and, by God, if your soul mate isn't standing right in front of you! Two legs, nice smile, and all the rest. You fall immediately into one another's arms, and pretty soon it's all over ... all but the intense guilt. "I'll never do that again ... Nor shall I!" But how's it going to go three days from now?

Well, in this case, of A and B -- him and her, respectively -- they saw the vanity of it all, the flesh, and immediately withdrew after that one time. They were true to their word: "I'll never do that again ... Nor shall I!" A immediately joined a monastery, B a convent. (These institutions were some religion other than Catholic, since neither A nor B were Catholic.)

The Father Superior and the Mother Superior, both, were skeptical. They weren't sure of their vows. So to test them, they sent them to a place for that purpose. Two towers across from one another with a direct line of sight between them. The stairways down were clear, the doors unlocked. All they had to do was motion, one the other, and they would be joined again somewhere in the middle.

But they were among the lucky -- I should say, the disciplined, those true to their vow -- that they were able to withstand the temptation. Not that temptation was that great. They had made vows and they stuck to them, incorporating the essence of the vow into their thinking, into their very marrow. If you read about the three gunas in the Bhagavad Gita, they lived the good one all the way. They weren't concerned about the fruits of their actions. And they were way beyond dark inertia.

Both windows remained open, the line of sight ever clear. They could look across whenever they chose to. But for the most part they were studying their devotionals and finding ready connections between the enduring truths of life and their own thoughts and essence. They had some little duties for the monastery and convent, like calligraphy and making repairs to cassocks. These duties they tended faithfully.

When it came to lust one for the other, they simply didn't have it. It didn't enter their minds even once. They transmuted all those drives and it became an honorable energy within them that strengthened them more and more in their devotion. What is earthly in most of us, and even devilish, was for them a perfect heavenly stream of light and power. They never -- A and B -- regretted their decision even for a moment and never doubted that their calling from above was real and blessed.

Naturally, then, when it came time for their prayers -- and this was almost constant, not as a task but as a way of life, as immediate and normal as breathing -- there was never a "Forgive me, for I have sinned." It is truly no exaggeration to say they simply experienced bliss upon bliss and grace for grace. Paradise indeed was restored for A & B! May it ever be the same for each one of us ... for you today!

Commentary on the picture -- The dog and fox represent the daily passions of life, which stood at a distance ever calling for attention, but were unheeded. The lobster represents the deeper drives from below, the chthonic impulses, which was never able even to get out of the water. It simply sat there and flexed its claws in vain, wondering why no one cared about it anymore.

Watching The Mosquito Bite Me For Hours

Do you have the discipline to sit unperturbed by anything? A child throwing bricks at you? A nearby train jumps the tracks? A lightning strike so close it burns your shoes off? I suppose you do, although it's possible you don't, like one-in-a-million.

As I write this, the house next door is going down the hill in a mudslide. And yet here I sit, trying to think of the next sentence. There's a tiny bit of curiosity -- I won't deny it -- about what it might mean for my own house's foundation, but I'm not going to let it worry me. There! I've put it ...completely ... out of mind.

Let's think of it in the context of the long term: If it had happened 100 million years ago, I wouldn't have been concerned about it. Even though a lot of crazy stuff did happen 100 million years ago. The dinosaurs were wiped out by either an asteroid or overzealous NRA members, and I didn't bat an eye. Then, too, if it happens 100 million years from now, I don't see myself really caring. So why should I care today? Just because I'm here? I need a better reason.

No, just like you, I choose to focus my thoughts on essential Oneness, and the well being that comes from that. A dance of glad hearts, whether in obvious joy or in so-called suffering. Nothing can disturb us! Not even a mosquito!

I have a twinge of something rattling around my mind as I mention mosquitoes. Because usually I don't care for them. Them or any kind of bug. Especially the kind that crawl or land on us and start biting and/or sucking. Look at the picture. It's creepy. Like an alien spaceship. Then there's the reason for its visit, that little straw going from its mouth to its host. It's piercing the skin, going down into the muscle, into a vein, and drinking its fill of our precious lifeblood. It's hard to ignore!

But if you're going to rise above all distractions, ignore it you must! There it is, in my focus, not disturbing me all that much. I'll just watch as it bites. If it persists beyond what seems a normal length of time, I will glance down and see how long it can go. If it persists indefinitely, I will reward its persistence by allowing it to hang on. It's merely tending to its own needs, just like I'd do if I were in its shoes.

As time drags pleasantly on, the creature gets bigger. Then bigger yet. Then the biggest of all, completely plum full, like a tick but not quite that round. I don't see how it can suck any more! And finally, as if reading my thoughts, with my thinking a little unsteady from the loss of blood, it withdraws, wipes off its straw, and flies away.

How about this? After it leaves, I put a toothpick in the hole to keep its place for later. A little less wear and tear on its stinger that way. Very admirable of me.

It's so great not being disturbed by things. This is truly the path to complete bliss.

All Due Diligence

My personal resolve refuses to weaken. I will press on in boldness and strength, exerting myself with all due diligence to get the job done.

That applies to whatever job there is. My resolve is such that I will have discipline to accomplish this, that, or the other thing. If it's set before me and is a part of my responsibility or duty, that is what I will do.

Once your mind is set, the resolve is locked in place. At that point there must be no loosening, no shrinking back to a place of laziness and excuses.

Just looking at this great picture helps toughen my hide for what the day may bring. I will be both the anvil and the guy pounding against it. Anything but the colorful marshmallow background! I will not soften or become a sticky, gooey mush, regardless of what anyone else does.

I like the looks of that old anvil: "ACME GUARANTEED." You don't want a bad anvil. So it's always best to get one that's guaranteed. You take a whack at it and it splits in two? That'd be the last anvil I'd buy from Acme, or whoever. The shipping on an anvil, it's high. You want one that's going to stand the test of time. And, frankly, I've never heard of a bad anvil. Whoever makes them knows by now how to get the job done.

Obviously I have a lot in common with anvil makers. They're tough and I'm tough. Except I'm made of flesh and bone, not iron. So it's tougher to successfully be me than it is to be an anvil. I have that as a point of pride. It represents me, and anyone who would exercise all due diligence in his or her life to get their job accomplished in a worthy manner.

There's not enough toughness in the world. There's too much softness. People falling away from their responsibilities and duties. Or in so many cases, never giving them a second thought in the first place. Like deadbeat dads. You want to stick it where you want to stick it, but there's a price to pay. That price is responsibility, deadbeat. You either need to be tougher or keep it zipped.

I've got going on here a "Drive for Pride," with some of the principles of self-esteem, confidence, and pride going forth. And yes, I'm taking my own medicine, and it's delicious. There's nothing more satisfying than keeping strict personal control, of being personally strong, mentally strong.

It starts with your mental framework. If you have it in you to say this is how it will be, then to follow through on it, you can have great success. If you will put forth all due diligence to get the job done, and to do it with appreciation for the responsibility and task, there's no stopping you.

Let this be another day of fulfilling our responsibilities and duties. Appreciate your work. Do it with sincerity and resolve. With all due diligence. Be tough, but also a nice person.