ze pun-ch line no. 5

Why did that crazy guy Beethoven punch his pet chicken in the nose?

pun-ch line
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Because the chicken kept climbing up on his harpsichord and yelling, “Baaaaach, Bach-Bach-Bach……Bach, Bach…..Bach!”

A joke is the epigram on the death of a feeling…..Friedrich Nietzsche

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Jesus is a Dead Rebel Mammal

If Jesus was the “Son of God”(which he wasn’t), he knowingly was on a suicide mission from his “Dad”, who, it stands to reason, was also a God(except that He doesn’t exist). And “Dad” knew about it(the suicide), because it was His idea–and that’s not nice.

Oh, but wait, Jesus wasn’t on a suicide mission after all, since he and “Dad” knew all along that he(Jesus, I know, this is hard to keep straight) would “be riseneth from the dead”, kick the Grim Reaper’s “sorry ass”, as it were. So it was not, in fact, suicide after all. He(Jesus) kept on going: somewhere.

They call it “Heaven”, I guess.

And the clincher is, that neither he nor “Dad” could do a damn thing about it, since, being both omniscient, neither could be omnipotent at the same time, since that is logically–as the Mexicans say–“eem-poh-see-blay”–no matter who one is and what realm one exists in.

Recap: “Dad” is God, a supernatural being, and therefore is everywhere-always-forever, but somehow He “sent” His only begotten Son Jesus, who is really just Himself divided up and in disguise, incognito(why He needed and how He was able to do that is anybody’s guess) to the Earth to “save” Mankind from His wrath–because He is “all loving” but apparently gets out-of-control angry and homicidal sometimes–and Jesus ends up getting “suicided” by Romans and He and “Dad” knew about it from the start, well it was just “Dad” doing the knowing since He hadn’t divided Himself up yet, and……don’t even get me started on the alleged, “Holy Spirit”……ok, let’s start over…

Box score: Mission Impossible.

But, kind reader, you may be breath a sigh of relief in realizing that there is no “Dad” and Jesus was just another bi-pedal mammal, a rebel bi-pedal mammal nonetheless, and I commend him for that. But he is a dead rebel mammal now, so I says, to Mankind: “get over it”.

The Meditationist

Hi. I am an atheist ‘meditationist’. Which means, I don’t follow the Hindu or Buddhist religions per say, though I know a few things about them–Shiva the Destroyer, mainly. I just meditate, which is an empirical technique, not a religion or philosophy. I live in the material world, I think for myself–well, not just for myself, nobody would be that stupid.

But I am interested in that thing they call “Nirvana” that the Buddhists like to talk about all the time(though I don’t normally talk about it)–and that’s why I meditate: to see if IT exists. Like a lot of things, I don’t expect to find out, but I do it anyway.

I don’t wear long flowing saffron dresses, or play the harmonium or sitar or tabla or that incredibly intoxicating bamboo “Maharaja” flute they have, or ride an elephant or try to shake petrified dust out of a clay urn, or chant and read Sanskrit, or shave my head or observe strict veganism(though I used to), or avoid profanity at all costs, or pontificate on the ‘meaning if Life’ all day long, or “send out positive energy”(which, like praying, is rather impossible), or try to talk to Krishna or Vishnu–well, I guess the latter is a Hindu guy anyway, so that wouldn’t work so well if one is a Buddhist.

They say Ganesha is an Elephant God that has a pet rat that “he” rides like “he” himself would normally be ridden, cowboy style sort of–in his own special way. And I am sure somebody somewhere, maybe in a cave, or in a long flowing saffron dress must know why. They’ve got to, we need an explanation! And it’s possible “he” was responsible for the Black Plague in Medieval Europe, but don’t tell Ganesha that, or you will most likely be henceforth walking everywhere and carrying heavy things with your own back. But, because of Ganesha, they have temples for rats–thousands of rats–in India. A lot of tourist money it it. A real live Hindu guy, who has a mint condition Audi I want to buy cheap, told me that–about the rat temples–and then I confirmed it on YouTube. Do what you gotta do, I guess…in the 21st century.

I find that meditation has many positive effects for me, maybe my brain works better–though I’m still somewhat of a moody SOB.

One time, I met Gurumayi. She is really good looking–and classy. I can’t say that it helped much, though I certainly enjoyed gazing into her deep brown, dreamy eyes. And I wouldn’t mind going out with her sometime–even though, judging by her rather bourgeois, elegant, and pricey wardrobe, I doubt that she’s a Communist. Maybe she’s too busy…what, with all them “sheeples” and such.

Recently a local Hindu guy opened up a sandwich shop just down the street: he calls it, “New Deli”.

(Ram) Das it.

Poem: Kareem

Kareem

by ze

Kareem gots his tunes
keeps him goin’
Tol’ him I like his jacket
He said, “you already tol’ me dat”

I got that brass and copper
like a fist enhancer
He just laugh insane like
and back away slow and shaky
with some crazy in his eyes

Two sheriffs and a statey
was at his room the other day
with a K-9 in the backseat
just in case
Tried to talk him down
after he been shoutin’
“FUCK ‘EM ALL!”
at the stars all nite

Tol’ him about jazz
Herbie Hancock ‘Thrust’
He don’t give a shit
Mind blown rappin’ like a wifi junkie

Tupac and Assata
was the last ones worth a damn
He dead, the Fascist Pigs still want her back
Kareem don’t got no time to know ’bout all dat

I’m just another Whitey
so what the fuck should he care
He strut and dance like a drummer or somethin’
But ain’t nobody got time for that crap

I been writin’ like that mofo storm
outside my window
Kareem all up in solitary groanin’
“gots to ignore all whats the idiots say”

One day he gonna fall off
the edge of this goddamn mountain
and roll out on that hiway all naked
Like a deer in the headlights
of a dark shit storm
and that’ll be the end a dat

Me, I woulda hit bottom
but they ain’t no bottom

Kareem, he just gotta pack it in…