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Oct. 20, 2000
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Back To Community
I lean back into the plush couch, contemplating life as I sip at my coffee and
stare off through the vapour. I taste the bean flavours spreading over my tongue, a taste bud here a taste
bud there, the coffee is cataloged for future reference.
The warmth down my esophagus spreads across my chest. I feel my body relaxing,
tensions easing, my mind spiked by the caffeine as it makes its way through my mucus membranes and into
my brain proper.
What's it really all about? Jack thinks it more than just addiction, more then
just the buzz buzz and bright lights, more then just a chemical kick start to another drab day. Jack thinks
it's about community.
From our animal beginnings, we have always needed to work together, whether it be
for protection, shelter, or for sustenance. Co-operation proved to be a great way to survive the onslaught
of mother nature, but now...do we really need that?
In the past it was all clear. You had to find shelter, food and water and maybe some
folks to live next door, incase you run yourself over with an ox cart or cut off your arm with a sharp
piece of flint.
I am Jack's danger sense. What kinda danger we in now? Maybe a paper cut? Or a
staple at the wrong time and place? Sure, you could get run over by some moron in a car, or fall off that
cliff you just had to climb. It just seems like community ain't what it used to be kids.
I am Jack's friendly smile. What we do now is eat. We have dinner. We have lunch.
We have coffee, baby. We have coffee! Is there anything more innocent then some coffee and a chat? I say nah!
Do you hear me? I say nah! That's right, you heard me, it's all about sharing a little consumption with a
neighbor, co worker, or complete stranger.
This is the way it works now, I mean I really don't need that hot chick in the
coffee shop helping me raise a barn. I'm thinking ‘bout something else that needs a raising. Getting there
is most of the fun and since you're not gonna meet her plowing in the fields or picking apples, you're gonna
have coffee with her, or lunch, or diner, or if you're lucky breakfast.
I am Jacks epilogue. So kids, don't waste your valuable community time at lunch
hour, or for that matter, at coffee break. Be the wise one and target yourself some potential 'community'
member. Make friends, make plans, have coffee.
Jack promises not to tell anyone what your thinking behind those cheerful eyes,
as you sip coffee and talk about the weather. Cheers!.
Could be
As good as coffee?
Chai tea!
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy
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"What It Is"
Hello again kind reader.
Last week, as I left home for my abysmally depressing,
soul-draining job, I was greeted by a massive dead crow on my lawn, right in
front of my door, greeting me all puffy and still warm and black, just like my
coffee.
Enemies? Perhaps. Random bad luck? Hey, I could write a fucking book
that would stop a hippo. Coincident with my (re)watching of American
Beauty, it put my futile life into a teeny bit more perspective; I am
slowly coming to the depressing conclusion that I have little control of what
goes on around me, and better learn to forget about it 'cos it means nothing in
the end.
This is indeed a horrifying realization for a skeptic such as myself
who believes not in fate, destiny, luck nor in any kind of divine being and the
removal of free will that necessarily comes with all that.
So.
Do I continue to fight an apparently hopeless battle, slowly losing my mind in
the process, or do I make an attempt to go with the flow: dig deep inside and
pull out (as Ben Stein would say) the Buddah Nature in me and learn to
love.
Maybe I don't want to be full of hate. Yes... Maybe I want to be full of puppies!
Maybe I just want to be loved! I don't even care if it's genuine.
Maybe I just
want your pity, your attention, even your mockery. Maybe I just want an open
exchange of feelings, emotions and experiences. Maybe I just want to stick a
carrot in your ass if you're female.
Maybe I just want to know what makes you tick,
what floats your boat and what gets your goat. Maybe I just want you to want me.
("Cheap Trick", circa early 1980's)
What the hell... want away,lovers! Want away!
Coffee, not tea.
Coke, not Pepsi.
Crest, not Colgate.
Betty, not Wilma.
Marianne AND Ginger, not Mrs. Howell.
Summer, not winter.
Shoes, not sandals.
Film, not video.
Movies, not television.
Cats, not dogs.
Not working, not working.
The Beatles, not the Stones.
501's, not straight-leg.
Gabriel, not Collins.
Audi, not BMW.
LP, not CD.
Wendy's, not McDonald's.
Flintstones, not Jetsons.
Netscape, not Explorer.
Baba O'Riley not Athena
Meat, not veggies.
Buff, not pyjamas.
Seinfeld, not Friends.
Rimsky, not Korsekov.
Stick, not roll-on.
Kids, not babies.
Gin, not Rum.
Alone, not lonely.
Shy, not snobby.
Booze, not drugs.
Science, not God.
Driving, not walking.
Pickin', not grinnin'.
A little bit Rock-n-roll, not a li'l bit country.
Lynda Carter, not Lindsay Wagner.
Man from Atlantis, not Dallas.
Rocky & Bullwinkle, not Shaggy & Scooby.
T-shirts, not button-shirts.
Goodwill, not Value Village.
Gibson, not Fender.
Mitsou, not Celine Dion.
Catholic school-girl outfits, not Catholic schools.
Shaken, not stirred.
Beds, not futons.
Food, not tofu.
Vibrate, not beep.
Furniture, not Ikea.
SNL, not MAD.
SCTV, not Bizarre.
Right hand, not left hand.
Soccer, not hockey.
Pie, not cake.
Iceland, not Greenland.
Razor, not shaver.
Stalls, not urinals.
Butter, not margarine.
Ale, not lager.
Garlic dills, not sweet dills.
FM, not AM.
Serengeti, not Ray Ban.
Beta, not VHS.
Rugs, not carpet.
Japanese porn, not American porn.
Whole bean, not pre-ground.
Couches, not sofas
Cars, not minivans.
Great taste, not less filling.
Friendly Greek, not Mr. Greek.
Incandescent, not flourescent.
2%, not skim.
Hamburgers, not hotdogs.
Cheese, not process cheese food.
Crunchy, not smooth.
Easy going, not lazy.
Me, not you.
Farewell until next time, gentle reader. Do come back again and feel
free to send me your comments, suggestions, stories, whatever. Gotta go, the
coffee's on. " Sun's up. Mmm-hmm, looks OK. The world survives into
another day. And I'm wonderin' where the lions are. "
Edward Pants, Esq.
In life's coffee bag, be the bitter bean.
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Café Americano Please
"Ooh," she giggled, jiggling her perfect cream puff breasts. She slid her short
school girl kilt down over the curious contraption that Mr. Ed and Mr. Tom had duct taped over her most
sensitive parts.
Covering her mouth to suppress her moans and giggles, she stumbled forward a few
steps to the counter. "Two mugs," she gasped, clutching the counter as she was wracked with waves of bliss.
Her knees ground together as she held the mugs carefully and minced toward the
couch. Her panties were soaked, and the humming of the grinder must surely be audible to all the patrons.
Involuntarily, her head tossed back and she bit her lips.
"She's almost ready," Mr. Tom told Mr. Ed.
Mr Ed ambled over and removed the white ceramic mugs from her hand, slid one
hairy hand down her top to pinch her nipples as he guided her over to the couch. Mr. Ed placed the mugs
on the table, flipped up her skirt and with a deft movement, plucked her panties aside.
She put her foot up on the table and convulsed. A thick dark stream shot from her,
steaming, and poured neatly into first one mug, than the other. She sagged against Mr. Ed in relief.
Mr. Tom dipped his finger into the mug and sniffed it, then licked his digit clean.
"Porn," intoned Mr. Ed. "Makes perfect Americano, every time!".
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