The Heart is a Lonely Rocking Horse

Dearest Comrades!

After Publishing my last installment I went to the Garfield neighborhood on the Gallery Crawl. Stopping off at the various art galleries and whatever ever else you find there along Penn avenue. You know where Pittsburghers go to look at things they don't care to understand, drink PBR, and finger paints or take place in a happening titled: THE BIRTH OF MY PAIN!
Well to say the least, I passed by every art show, since everything was either the photograph of a flower or a beach landscape and I continued on until I came across this handsome looking rocking horse with a sign in the window that said JOIN US...>>> You'll never guess, comrades, what happened when I went inside. I found forty to fifty grown men and women rocking back and forth on these elaborately adorned playground rocking horses. It was magic, in unison, they moved and swayed. I tell you not even Michelangelo himself could create such unity. There was a free chair and I began to rock. But the horse would not obey. It moved left to right, right to left, never in sync with the others. Then the video turned on....

A bald man appeared on screen and explained to me how to rock. Back and forth, back to forth. I even got an awesome pair of Nike tennis shoes. I really enjoyed the meeting, they invited me back next weekend.

Help a Comrade out!

Dearest Comrades!

There are cracks in the pavement, everywhere we go, we must always keep present in our minds that nothing remains as it was. New is the most vulnerable state of being, because decadence follows new like death follows old. 

Keep this in mind while I ask you to stop reading this section and click on the link next to my words.

It is that way.>>>>>>>>> or downward depending on how this damn blog formatted the video.

When you are done, please continue reading.

Are you horrified? Do you think this man belongs in prison? Helmut Eichelberger is a good man! I don't think there was an overabundance of malice in his actions, I honestly believe he as the victim of the xenophobic policy of brand switching.  Many countries are beginning to switch products harmless in one country to poisons in others; to bait foreigners into committing heinous acts such as the one you have seen above. 

Example 1: A Mexican man was taken into custody and deported from yet another country when he pulled out a bottle of Cajeta, and offered it to his host Argentine family. (Cajeta is the Mexican word for a Caramel-like substance made from goat's milk. Cajeta is also the Argentina word to refer to the Vagina in the pejorative. Like the C word in the UK or the V word in the US) Needless to say, his host family vomited at the table, when the jar touched the cloth. Subsequently the police were called in to investigate, and as I said he was deported. The Federal police are still unable to determine exactly how he got the Cajetas into the jar, but a  dossier is set to come out at the end of month. 

Example 2: An American man moved to Suriname after living in New York for fifty years. He was madly obsessed with cleanliness. Often found unconscious after fumigating his house with Raid to point that even his pet fishes were diagnosed with anoxic brain injury. The man heard that Suriname was somehow the place on Earth with the least cockroaches; so he moved. Once there and settled he went to the store and purchased a can of raid. Oddly, it took him hours to find a single can, and finally when he did, it was at a bakery not at a supermarket. He got home sprayed the entire house and went to bed. The next morning when he awoke, the floor was covered in roaches. Not dead, but live ones. He went back and he bought more, he tried again, and again there were more roaches. This continued on until one day the baker refused to sell him anymore raid. When the American was arrested, the police charged him with causing the cockroach epidemic. You see in Suriname Raid is a brand sugar glaze, comrades. 

Please be sure to show your support for Helmut Eichelberger, a bank account and facebook page has been set up in his name to assist with legal fees. 

      

The Discrete Charm of Burgling

Dearest Comrades!




Jaime Decano came home one night, like he had done every other night in Pittsburgh for the past twenty-nine years, to find his entire apartment pitch black. He rattled the first lock loose and reached in with his hand. He flicked on the living room light, set down his briefcase, and scanned the room. Empty! He walked to the lamp, and clicked on the living room lamp. He scanned the hall, kitchen, and first room. All were empty, like the previous twenty-nine years worth of nights.  He entered his room and set his briefcase on the bed.  Jaime Decano heard a RUMBLE* RUMBLE* RUMBLE* 
Suddenly a man exited the closet. He stood before Jamie Decano, and his Elton John, and Peter Gabriel posters.  Burglar was obviously upset, he pleaded that he was taking only something that was his. He begged for Jaime Decano's help. The Burglar was on his knees, crying. HELP! He went on, explaining the tribulations that had since passed in his life. You see the Burglar, we'll call him Hamilton Burglar . Hamilton Burglar used to live in that exact apartment. The kneeling man seemed harmless, and Jaime Deacon put his guard down. Well just then, Hamilton Burglar pulled out a revolver. "Get in the closet."Hamilton whispered. Jaime switched spots with the burglar. Hamilton went on, "I used to own a pair of Cufflinks made from Brazilian coins bearing the likeness of José Maria da Silva Paranhos Júnior. When a man wore said cufflinks he possessed the uncanny ability, to simultaneously seduce all the women on the planet, walk through walls, and even turn into a candle on demand." Unfortunately Hamilton had lost one of the pair while moving to his new place off of Butler street. He had been searching ever since. "Now search!" The man shouted. Jaime Deacon got down on his hands and knees, searching frantically. He could find nothing. That is until, in the far corner of the closet he saw a tiny Silver glow. The tiny face of a Brazilian baron. Is it this, sir? Jaime Decano, reached up. The man snatched it from his hands and immediately placed it on his cuff. While he celebrated his victory, Jaime tossed a sneaker into the man's face, and ran off. He called 911. Before he could find, and dispose of Jaime, the police arrived. Hamilton turned into a candle. "What seems to be the problem, son?" Taking the candle in his hand and lighting it, Jamie Decano responded, by telling him that he thought there was a man in his closet. After the cops left he let the candle burn down to the wick. Hamilton Burgler, and the cufflinks were never never heard from again.  

Texas is the End of the World

There was this man who had fallen madly in love with Texas. She was of a thin, fragile disposition, with eyes bluer than the brightest bluebonnet that state could offer. Yet, Texas believed she was obese beyond all belief. When she looked into the mirror she saw not her bony arms and shoulders, but part of her cheek and possibly the meat of her neck. When they made love she was gentle enough to avoid squishing the man, and all his manliness. The man tried everything to get the girl to eat, but she insisted upon her girth, and locked her self in her room on the second floor above the bakery.  "I'll not come out love. Never!" The man, we will call him Comrade Kraken was bewildered by her delusion.  He took action. First,  he purchased a gigantic mirror and reclined it in her bedroom, but with more reflection, she saw only more of herself. "I am bloated", she covered her face, and laid back in her bed. Second, Comrade devised a plan to have a seamstress come a measure her. 

No one is beyond logic, and measurements. When the seamstress appeared with her tape measure in hand Texas hollered, "Leave or I will crush you with my weight." Texas hopped on her hands and feet and called like a crow. When Comrade Kraken gave the seamstress the okay nod, the seamstress set to work. Texas warned her once more before rolling over on her. Eventually, and bewildered the seamstress gave up her suit. Comrade Kraken was ready to give up.

"Dearest, but is there anything I can do?" Texas crossed her arms abruptly and looked away.

"I may never leave this room, dearest" She replied, "For I cannot fit through that door."  Texas pointed. 

Comrade Kraken, fed up with her tomfoolery, attempted to drag her out by her tiny arm, but instead was met with a sharp pair of teeth. That next morning I found the dear Comrade on a ladder with a pick and hammer.  He sawed off the top of his house, until all that was left was his tiny Texas, and her tiny bed. When he called her, she refused. She was too big, she said, for the ladder.

"If I fall, I pray I will crush the earth's plate of molten magma, and it will be the end of us all." Texas pleaded with the man to let her remain above. The more Texas pleaded the more, Comrade Kraken pleaded. 

"I will catch you I promise." The good Comrade spoke. 

Again Texas refused him. 

"But if you do not come down now, I fear the house will collapse, and you will plummet into the Earth's core."

Just then Texas could hear the house creaking beneath her feet. It rumbled, and for fear she might crush the earth below, she leaped into the empty air below. 

She leaped into his arms.

Unfortunately, the ground below the good comrade's feet collapsed, and they plummeted into the earth's core. 

In the Shitsburgh, Texas is the End of the world.

The floating biker of Friendship

Dearest Comrades!

I saw a woman ride her bicycle topless around Friendship park. Although it was difficult to discern at first glance whether it was male or female, the obvious fact remains that topless bike riding is commonly a guy's thing. Let's just say it took me more than a general second. Oh no! I am not against this practice, not in the least. Bicycle nudity should be embraced on all levels. Bobby Ahogar embraced this principle, he was a knack of all trades, he welded, performed poetry at the nearest cafe, was a barista at the local crazy coffee store, but above all he was well crafted in the art

of thievery. He was not always such, larceny is not inborn, one must work hard to achieve even the slightest of talents, in fact it took over 1200 hours of deliberate practice to make him a level 5 thief. Even then, he could only purse-snatch with a two yard head start. On foot, his wind sprint was a, flaccid breeze, a jog for the oldest of women. Eventually he took to purse snatching on bicycle. In the hill-infested city of Pittsburgh this proved to be an almost fatal choice for the boy. Bobby Ahogar, being unable to ride up the hill to make his escape was often captured as a result. On more than one occasion he was pummeled by angry AARP members, and left a
 cane beaten mess. When he was finally able to make it up the hill, the downward slide was equally as troublesome. He became intimate with all three of Pittsburgh rivers, and even managed to be dyed a pink hue by falling into the breast cancer fountain at the point in downtown. It was obvious that Bobby Ahogar could not swim.  He joined the YMCA, he watched youtube videos, read books, studied swimmers, he even joined the guppies competitive swim team from which he was eventually cut, but nothing could help him to keep his head above water.  Eventually he was killed. Alas! He was drowned in the waters of the Allegheny river. Since then, thieves in Pittsburgh salute his efforts by sporting floaties on their bicycle runs.

The Battle of John Smith and Alan the Aztec

Modern Science

 Dearest Comrades!

Primitive Science and Modern Science met one morning on the Northside in Pittsburgh. Modern Science had been walking for miles, along the Allegheny river. His mouth was parched, chapped with the tireless winds and capricious nature of the clouds and sun. "Give me some of your water." Modern Science spoke. Being, a sweltering, summer day, and forty miles from the nearest source of potable water, Primitive Science said, "Hell no, get your own water, buddy." Modern Science had anticipated Primitive Science's reluctance, and offered him a large gold piece. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Modern Science told him he could buy something with it, at the store. "WTF! Am I supposed to just walk into a cave and be like, here is this rock, give me a beer and some deer jerky or some fruits and berries." Modern Science nodded his head. Primitive Science laughed the rock off and began to walk away. No wait! Modern Science called after him, what about a beaker? I have a Bunsen burner as well. Primitive Science shook his head to all offers. Fed up, Modern Science removed the gloves from his hands and tossed them to the ground. Alright then, you have forced me to force you, to hand it over! Modern Science's eyes shined with glassy anger. He rolled up his sleeves, and knickers, then raised his fists in defense.

Primitive Science

Modern Science threw the first blow, which came more in the shape of a shove than a knuckled blow. Primitive Science looked on as the man danced ridiculously before him.  Finally Modern Science slugged Primitive Science in the nose. Give me the water! He shouted. No, responded the Primitive Scientist. Perceiving that he was being attacked Primitive Science picked up a large branch from the ground and WHACK! He struck the Modern Scientist on the head. Fed up, the Modern Science pulled a revolver from his satchel and pointed it at Primitive Science. Give me the Water! Primitive Science denied him once more. "Get your own! There's a river that way." I can't drink that water, Modern Science said, it's got the germs in it. "Germs," spoke Primitive Science. "Tiny microbes that take over your body." Primitive Science laughed, "Don't be stupid, fool, there ain't shit in that water, but fish and river creatures." "No, dude, seriously, they're so small the human eye can't even see them, but they're there and they'll F-you up." Modern Science lowered the gun and opened his hand beseeching the Primitive Scientist to lower his branch. "That is not true, the human eye sees everything." "No" "Yes" "Naw-aw" "Yeah-haw." "Okay fine." Modern Science spoke, "then just let me have a few sips." Primitive Science made a revolting face, "Hell no, that's dirty fool. I can't be touching your slobber." Okay I'll tell you what, Modern Science spoke, I'll give you my boomstick (his revolver) and a blanket. All you gotta do is give me sip of water.   "Okay," Primitive Science said, "But I'll just pour it into your mouth, you can't be touching my goat stomach canteen with that dirty facial hair covered mouth." After the sip of water, Modern Science and Primitive Science parted ways. Primitive Science died of small pox three days later.

They walk among us!

Dearest Comrades!

We do not understand the ways of the future! When we walk our feet tread only upon the ground, we have not perfected teleportation, solar power, and especially this, the skin of man was not meant to survive naked in winter.  We made a jacket, we made a knife, we made fire, and like this, we survived, we ate only potatoes, but we survived, we were still cold, but we survived. Persevered. A science teacher in middle school once told me, that if a starving human and a cow were locked in room,  the human, without tools, would starve to death. He cannot chew through the hide, nor tear at the jugular. A tiger has large canine teeth and claws. Not to mention that the raw meat would most likely upset the human's stomach. But as I said we do not understand the ways of the future.
However, Peter Prometheus-Winters does.
This man found me in a crowd.  I am from Morgantown. Were his first words. I knew this was bullshit because of his plastic suit. Comrades, in Morgantown it is not the fashion to wear plastic suits. Especially not with zipper running from top of ass to bottom of belly-button. This man could only be from the future. In the future we will wear these suits to reflect our moods, much like the mood ring, the mood necklace, and mood nail polish. Peter Prometheus-Winters was an artist. He designed this very suit and many like it. Though he primarily deals in statues of snails and photographs of feet. His futurist knowledge made him a Da Vinci of sorts.  He told me to come with him if I wanted to live, then he asked me for forty dollars, so that he could get some diesel gasoline to go, and see his mother who was dying of cancer in Wheeling. It seems odd that we would not cure cancer in the future, and especially that his mother was here and not there. Alas! Peter continued on, in 1981, Peter Prometheus-Winters approached president Reagan and attempted to mandate that all of America's children wear the plastic mood suits. He was arrested. He tried again in 89, but H.W. Bush did the same, as did Clinton. In 2000 he retured home.  To Morgantown. Man was not ready for the plastic mood suit. Perhaps it is the zipper that deters our interest?