Archive for the ‘Another silly rant’ Category

Lunar Calendar? Chauvet Cave Mystery – Rhino Lunacy!

September 11, 2012
Lunar canendar Chauvet Mystery

Rhinos tell time

Here’s an imgpress photo of Rhinos from the Cave at Chauvet. I have no formal education in ancient cave art but I did hunt as a young man so let’s take a hunters look at this picture. I also have a couple of doctorates after my name so I can think a bit too…

There are seven long horns and four shoulders all of which are semi-lunar in appearance. Now I’m not a numbers nut but 7 times 4 = 28, the days of a lunar month. This could very well be the earliest lunar calendar in recorded history. As a mystery it would have been a way to teach basic monthly time to people and its many ramifications. The periodicity from light to dark which can be observed for hunting, planting and reproduction, etc. is of utmost importance in outdoor living, ranked amongst water, shelter, food and clothing – here to be shown to anyone with eyes. The longest horns are moving  from left to right and the shoulders and bodies of the Rhinos go from dark to light. This is waiting to be shown as an indication of the cyclic nature of the moon.  Any bow hunters reading this are free to comment on the bow shapes and black line but I don’t know if the line or any of it is all contemporary. Did they have anything like a bow then? Is the shaded band midline an indication of the softest spot in the Rhino’s hide?

 In one image I was able to get the suggestion that perhaps there is a round lighter patch lined out under the horns but as the images I get to work with are copies of copies I cannot confirm what my old eyes and various lighting of photoshop to see. But maybe some well funded researcher can take a closer look from an old hunters viewpoint and send along an email?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Big Oil

July 24, 2010

Excerpt from “Driver”

June 12, 2010

I leaned up softly my arms wrapped around her from behind my head nestled on the pillow between her long slim legs as she slowly wiggled and gasped at my soft insistent tonguing of her spit wet vulva. My hand slid across her abs, warm and big, helping me bring my head into tight contact with her labia. She was swollen so full, her inner labia flowered open and became almost rigid as I licked at her other opening, the tiny one under her clit. Draping her lips over my nose I licked around their edges tracing the circle they made over again and again. Gaspings and another moan as her pussy twitched quickly on my finger tip. When this happened I knew I could make her come in less than five minutes. Our conversation had just begun. “Baby, oh good boy.” as I licked just between her swollen lips pushing them apart enough to slide my tongue deeper to get to her depths again and again. Over and over repeating soft exacting insistent strokes I rounded my lips to her clit sucking ever so gently as my tongue slid in and across over and around hypnotic, intentional, knowing. She pushed down making me ache as she balanced her pubis on my front teeth. Harder, she settled against my teeth rubbing her cunt deep onto my face. I knew my jaw would ache for a day or two after this one but it was going to be worth it. My hand slipped around her thigh brushing tight garters and silk smooth stocking top to settle one fingertip between her slipperyness against her opening. She moaned out loud. “Don’t baby, don’t go into me that’s wrong, we can’t do that. No further in, that’s good.” She took a long breath as my finger just touched her hole and sat down deeper. “That’s right be a good boy and lick me now, don’t stop, I’m close, really close.”
My other hand ranged around her flesh touching and stroking her lingerie checking clips and straps feeling the tensions and slippery fabric. Petting her softly stroking her skin slowly. Down further to stroke my hard meat gathering juice over the tip to keep myself ready if she would let me. I never know if she would but I always hoped, it kept my cock at attention the hope, the hot wet hope of her finally letting me inside like my finger tip did.
My mouth gaped now, tongue sliding in her pattern, loving every slip of wet muscle her pussy twitched with each slow stroke across her firmed up tip. Her thighs began to slip apart and I knew that she was going to make it and my part was going to end again too soon. I loved the tension, the pressure as she sat fully on my open mouth, closing off my nose with her pubis she groaned and muttered, “Good boy, that’s right I’m gonna, I’m gonna.” As she gathered her come she began to grind a bit and her cunt began to almost twitch, then she pushed out, her pussy bearing into my sealed mouth. The stars had started spinning, sparkles overcame me with the grayness of black on it’s heels. She groaned out softly her voice fading as my cock twitched also. Her voice began chanting “Yes, Ahh, yes, ahh my god, please don’t’ stop yes, ahh yes. I’m gonna come now baby, don’t stop, please don’t, oh pleae don’t’ do this to me.” I was coming too pulsing thick fluid out the end of my penis then my hearing was full of my own heartbeat, harder and forceful faster and faster as the light faded she began to grind hard against my teeth her pussy sealed tight against my breath. I faded in joy wanting only to serve her holes.

I woke alone, as always. groggy and feeling unreal my breath harsh in my ears as my eyes began to refocus. Confusion reigned for a while as my mind settled again into rational thought. I reached down to find a familiar drying pool on my belly and back up to find pussy juice and spit all over my face. She was gone, she was almost always gone right after to go back to her husband and her straight life or something somewhere she never talked about. I was her lover and she was, well, she was, I guess, my smother. I always got off so good with her and the relationship was perfect, even with all the passing out and occasional loss of bladder control. I had parked a big towel under us in the event my bladder went loose. Sometimes it did but the mess was easier if we did it my way so our accommodation worked. We had a relationship of sorts. She would come over unannounced, take off or hike up her skirt, sit on my face until she came and I passed out then she would leave. we’d been together for almost the entire three years since I’d lost the gig of my life, three years of wondering why she showed up in the first place. She had never slept over and I only knew her first name. I tried to sit up and the stars in my head awoke whirling a bit, “Must have been a really good one” I thought greasily and passed put again. Waking the second time was easier somehow. Thirsty, I was really thirsty and the towel was sticking to my belly, as I pulled it away from my flesh I realized that something was different this time. There was writing on my skin, she had written in felt tip, upside down neatly on my abs just below her drying spooge.
“Be ready tomorrow for a trip, I will let you know what to do and where to be. Wear only a pair of long shorts, a tee shirt and rope sandals.”
Love,
Your Smother

I guessed I was heading south.

The directions were on the kitchen table. “Go to the airport, start your car at 6:10am, park in the long term lot, section A, then open your envelope.” I nearly didn’t sleep in anticipation but dragged myself out of the house at my assigned time, hot cuppa in hand and went to my cheap sedan. As I got in I found another envelope on my seat. It said to wait until I got to the airport so I tossed it next to me and began the drive to my appointed place. I was curious as to what it might say so I tore it open as I drove and pulled the folded sheet out. It was perfumed just a tiny bit with her piss and got me all bothered as I tried to read and drive.

Dear little man,

“You are very bad for opening this before you parked you know better than to drive and read. After you park look under the passenger seat next to you for your next orders, bring this envelope and what you are reading now with you.”

“Busted, I’m busted and haven’t even got there yet,” I just loved her for this.

Driving was easy this time of day, nobody around and I made good time. Parking was easy too and after I turned the car off I rolled around getting my hand under the seat to fish out the paper. It was sealed in red wax with a ribbon embedded. A simple twice fold of paper. Breaking the seal I read it with my breath held, slightly turned on.

“Go to the edge of the lot by the exit gate and wait for me to pick you up, stand with good posture, chin up toes on the edge of the bus stop concrete and keep your eyes open. Also, bring the envelope from the glove compartment.” I could hear her voice in the writing, it made me feel something almost whimsical.

When would this end? I was getting amused and irritated with all the run around and envelopes already. I got the next paperwork out, leaving it sealed and put it in my pocket.
I turned, wandered over to edge of the concrete pad, grit under my sandals sliding a bit and took up my position. Eyes open, good posture, chin up she had said. The sun was just peeking over the East Bay hills, Mt. Diablo showing it’s point in the background and I was quickly and completely blinded. Eyes watering I heard more than saw a largish vehicle begin to pass my place. I tried to look around it to see if she was behind but it stopped and the side door slid open, I was grabbed and pulled at by hands dragged into the van to hear some one growl, “Shut up, and stay shut up.” I began to protest and was slapped as hard as anyone had every hit me. Ears ringing my face was forced into the floor of what seemed to be a soccer mom van.
“I said shut the fuck up and I meant it.” The voice was fierce and quite female, someone else’s rough hands behind me forcing my arms together to ratchet snap a set of what must be handcuffs because only handcuffs are both cold and hot and make that noise.
I was turned onto my side as fingers slid under my shorts to explore me, I screamed, bellowing as loud as I could and was slapped again with something hard and sharp. Gasping out my pain I lay there.
“Next time you try to make noise like that I’m going to cut you. You are worth something alive and cut up is still alive, so do not fuck with me ‘cause I’ll fuck all over you.” Scared almost mindless feeling my new mortality I quieted as the hand under my shorts withdrew.
“This one’s worth something to her so we can’t fuck it up, not like last time.”
“We got her a replacement she was satisfied with, she didn’t mind that much.”
“Yeah but I ain’t takin’ a cut in pay this time so let’s not break her little toy. That’s for her to do.”
They went quiet as the van accelerated onto the highway I wasn’t sure where we were but after a while we were definitely on the Bay Bridge heading East. The tunnel was a complete giveaway. I was uncomfortable on my side and tried to sit up but firm hands held me down.
“Here, use this to prop your head up.” Someone was trying to be kind, the one with big rough hands. A head cushion from a seat back was pushed under my still ringing from the first hit skull and I was able to rest a bit. Tears streaming into the noisome rag that covered my head I began to softly sob.
“Should we shut this up?”
“Naw, it’s kinda cute.”
Their disdain was cutting and it increased my pain. But I was afraid to speak so I was otherwise silent sobbing into the cloth. I hated my own mortality, it is so fragile. The van drove for what seem like ten minutes partly uphill then we were in another tunnel.
“Ah”, I thought, “Caldecott Tunnel. we’re heading East.” We drove on and on as I counted seconds in my head, trying to figure out where I was by the time and the leaning of the van. It was thirty or forty minute past the petroleum smell of flat road when we pulled off the highway and went into a town of some sort. We were in or near the Sacramento or San Joaquin Delta, I knew that much but it could be any number of little shit hole conservative towns full of nice sincere people who would hate me on site because of how I was. I knew the food would be good to great if I ate Mexican or Chinese and bad to worse if I ate anything else. It would be hot as hell in the summertime, the mosquitoes would eat you alive, there would be a church or temple on every other corner and bars on every other other. Everybody was either a devout Christian or a devout drinker – they either drank and fucked, drank and fought or fought about fucking, choose. There was no legitimate work so everybody not white or working for the bureaucrats was on the sly for cash or if not and they were white they lived as trash. It was more than an hour and a half before we had stopped having gone over only one more bridge over water with a bad refinery smell. The van pulled into a driveway slope with a slow bump and stopped. A garage door opener ground out its thin whine and I thought “hmm, how middle class.” It made some noise as a door rattled down and the people holding me got out. I heard four voices. The driver or shotgun mumbled something about being paid, some rustling noises then I was hauled out into a darkened garage and stood up, hands behind my back.
“Do you need to use the toilet? You may speak.”
“Where am I who are…”
A slim smooth hand went twice across both my cheeks, side to side – backhand first. Sharp and quick then the same strong hand grabbed my chin, squeezing my cheeks so tight my lips pursed. “I will only repeat myself a limited number of times before I really lose patience with you, answer my question. Your job, if you care to survive here is to not find that limit.”
“Uh,…”
I was slapped again.
“Uh is not an answer.”
“Yu, yes please, may I use a toilet?”
A sigh from the other side of the room. “She was right as usual, this one’s got some promise. I’ve heard about him, already showing good manners.”
“I’m going to lead you to the toilet and a shower. You will strip off your sad human garments and put them into the bag I provide you, empty your bowel and bladder, take a shower and wash everywhere carefully. You need to remain clean in this place. Use-ably clean at all times. You will only talk when given permission and until I pass you off to her you will only get permission from me. I do not want you to get confused as to who is in charge of you. Any questions? This is your chance.”
“There was an envelope, an envelope with something inside from a friend. May I keep it?”
“It is of no consequence to us what we found you with. If you earn your freedom you will get all of it back.” Her voice softened a bit. “We’re not thieves here, along with the bureaucrats they are not tolerated. Well thieves are somewhat tolerated, at least they work for their living. We will only keep you for a bit, if you please us you will stay as long as we can contract you for. Pay attention, please us not and we will put you right back where you started with only stories to tell your grandchildren.”
My head was still confused. I was thinking, “Earn my freedom back? Contract? Who are these people? Grandchildren? Feh, I’d rather eat concrete.”
I was put into a large shower, cold steel or tile on the bottom and handed a bag. My cuffs and the rag covering my head were removed. It was totally dark and I began to remove my clothes. As my shorts came off someone said quietly.
“It’s true, what she said is true. Look at that sheath over his phallus, it has to be him.”
“If it was him we’d have never been able to even lay hands on him, Sugar guards him and holds him close.”
I looked up towards the voice, my eyes still in the dark but my mind suddenly clear as to where I was.
A small femme voice laughed. “I heard they fired him, look, he can’t even see in all wavelengths anymore. He’s not under contract, no wonder she wants him, he’s helplessly mortal, what a catch.”
“Hand over the bag.”
I reached it out to have it taken from me. A door closed almost hermetically and suddenly the shower began like a rainstorm, a ribcage shower with a big flow. The door opened a bit and the femme voice said. “ This is a flushing shower, like in the jails, just piss and shit in the middle then wash up.”
I squatted taking my time in the warm typhoon of water my sheath needed a good clean so I teased my phallus out too lingering on it, knowing the rules of locations like this from so many lives past made it easy. My stolen contract was about to maybe be picked up by a new company and if they liked me I was on the road again. All I needed now was my Sugar Babe, I sure hoped she would come back soon.
Washing in the warm swirl was a challenge until I groped a soap from the wall and lathered up. My beard had never grown back in since I was let go and now that I had figured out what was up I could handle the challenge. I’d made it back to the union hiring hall.
I stood by the door, head bowed and waited for further guidance from my new potential boss.
I heard the door open, in the stygial lack of light a voice said.
“Well, you finally decided to drop by.”
The voice was familiar, a family voice from my past. I started a bit but held back not knowing what was next.

“You old goat I knew where Suisun was the whole time. Hell, I’ve lived here now for almost an eternity, four whole years.”
“Luna?”
“You are supposed to ask permission to speak, but seeing as how it’s you I’ll allow it this once. But you must remember that this is an interview and though the final word is mine your behavior must be correct or corrected and approved by all who reside in this temple until you pass their requirements.”
I calmed myself, knowing the outcome of my very existence in the remaining time in this universe would depend on being of service to all and sundry.
“Welcome back to Go, need a job? We’ve got your pretty black truck of yours parked out by the Cordelia Fire Department.”
The light returned dimly.
“You kept the rights to run the local hiring hall?”
“Never lost ‘em Boots, I know a good thing when I see it.”
“Sugar? Sugar is here, I thought I’d lost her to the administration.”
“Nope, you can’t lose her, fuck Boots, she’s your better half.”
“Why the hell in Cordelia?
“Cheap parking.”
“Did they take her power too?”
“Yep, she hasn’t said a thing since.”
“Oh god.”
“That’s funny coming from you, but now that JC has replaced you it’s probably true.”
“He’s working for the bureaucrats?”
“Yep, the son is the father to the man.”
“Are you my next boss? Are you hiring again?’
“In a short bit we are rolling this Newtonian universe up, is on it’s way down Christ’s wormhole to be recycled into a singularity to be stored for a bit until we need some amusement, elsewhen.”
Luna slid into my arms all warm and wriggle against my naked, this universe could wait for a moment.
Smiling up into my eyes she said. “Did she give you the envelope?”
“Yes, left it on the bag.”
“Good boy. We’ll get to that later.”
“Who is she?”
Murmering, she sought my lips, “Cute man, no more questions, I’m starting your initial interview. I’ll introduce you around after this part is over.” She pushed me back into the steamy shower and following, closing the door.

There’s more….lots more to come
All rights Reserved copyright 2010 use by permission only

Rocket Head

January 6, 2009

rocket-head-71

Caribou Barbie rollover button

January 6, 2009
Caribou Barbi

Caribou Barbi

Caribou Barbi goes to Washington

October 29, 2008

XMAS 2007

December 18, 2007

Merry Christmas

Dusty Memory

November 26, 2007

I sifted your heart into piles of dry ashes
remembered lips and touches beyond.
Dust filled empty ribbed arches
Ached edges grit kissed limit.
Hell found in missing you I stand quietly
parched dust bathing loves lost ember.

Bleak grey overhead light
Tepid hands lined and dusty creases
Falling to gravities cosmic pull.
Rain soaked ancestors muddy reply.
I sifted your heart into piles of dry ashes
Tossed in the storm of my love.

Your calloused hands

July 17, 2007

Your calloused hands bring kindness to my spirit every time you touch me. Hard working strong hands with deep creases, even scarred in places. Never pampered hands without compromise as to purpose or background with pedigree in lost wages from tired labor, long days handling heavy things. But I do, I care, I care for your each breath on this earth. I hope for your safety and delight, when you sleep I pray you have dreams of wondrous joy to help balance labor you have had to provide. Your simple existence in my life has provided reality in contrast to fantasy about good that, as a child I lacked. Your touch a blessing, an unsullied truth in a world full of come-on filled deceit. What made you? How did kindness grow so large, so clear in you that no matter what people do to you, no matter what they say you are incorruptly pure? Your calloused hands bring such joy to me that I know you are the one. You are my darling angel, I will always adore your fine, calloused hands.

Drug Company

June 5, 2007

I lie in bed moving around trying to find a place more comfortable than the last cold uncomfortable sweaty spot. My eyes are drooling and I drift sleepish off and on in a slow nauseous slump. Nose raw from wiping runs thick snot across my parched lips. Last night I woke up lying in a sticky drying pool of my own diarrhea. I’m losing water faster than I can take it in. My heart labors fast and kitty skittish hoping to get some OC soon because everything, each and every cell in my entire body is confused, unknowing of what to do. I’m thirsty and not hungry but there’s simply no energy to get out of my filth encrusted bed to go to the next room and get something to drink. I know I’ll wait for the sweats to run all greasy again to get my weary off enough to lie in the tub and run some water. I stopped following doctor’s orders three days ago and if you’ve never kicked, if you never done the cold cold turkey then you just won’t get it. I’m a medical junky, a friend to the drug companies. Paying my $300.00 a month for the privlege of modern medical care for 90 20mg tablets of everybody’s current fad drug. When you see the stars and radio commentators get down from their gear know that they go to a nice clean clinic and get put into a slumber for two weeks as the nice staff cleans and washes them, changing their sheets every time something happens. when they wake up they’ll be a bit woozy. A little worse for wear but they won’t have to diminish their rich privlege by doing what I and thousands of other do to get clean, they are doing the same dance I do, with better care. Poor folk don’t get care and seeing’s how only %1 of anybody in this country is rich likely is that if you’re reading this you ain’t. My pills can be converted on the street to about $1800.00 but I won’t do it. I am what is called a “compliant ethical patient” and follow their directions. You are simply going to think I am crazy but I followed the doctor’s orders up to now, but now only ‘cuz I really need to find out if I need the drug anymore and there’s no way to determine where I am unless I turkey and see. I’ve done this twice before and both times realized after a month off that I am still in pain so know I’m crazy because I’m doing something over and over with the same stupid result. But I still got damn fool hope.
When you first get clean the pain returns way bad, unsettling and fierce but if you are mad back at it, if you are as mad as I am about drug companies and hospitals you grit it and get it. You wait weeks and then months until there’s no other chance that it’ll go away, chronic pain people understand, you lose appetite, motivation and depression eats away quiet at why you should stay around because each day is exactly as the last and there’s no joy in anything. Most folk who take narcotics for chronic pain become what is called “medically dependant” on the substance. When we kick it’s said by the drug companies to be much easier because we didn’t get to feeling good when we take it, at best we feel ok. Most folk who take it for fun get high, get in high gear over it. They’ll do the stupidest things to get more, increasing their dose, chasing the now I’m in high gear edge it gives ‘em hoping to just get another chance to grab the tail of the bird that flys ‘em so high. They show every now and then on the news and I just do not understand. Narcotic make me nauseous and give me a headache but it’s better than the pain. Even though 80mg can kill a newbie, folks there is no maximum dose. Some well adapted folk can take thousands of milligrams and in their pain or on their gear they either need or seek more. But I’m simply a fool who had a ” negative outcome” gut operation with a whole passel of first time surgeons (tell ya that story later) at the VA so called hospital. Yeah, I’m a “lucky” peacetime vet. I ended up on the dole with Uncle Sugar paying the bill with money I gave him for working near 30 years and the State covering the the rest of my so called needs. Except when I die the State gets first cut at all my leavings. They’ll come into my bedroom and get everything of value and sell it to pay off their kindness. Do you ever scratch your head and wonder why all those people are on the dole? Why so many well intended hard working folk lose their means to work then lose everything? You know them, they’re the people the right wing calls “lazy” or the left wing calls “underemployed.” What kind of vile inhumane system does this? Yours does, you own this one all by yourself. Our sanctimonious government has funded this mess for as long as you’ve been alive. And as long as the drug companies and their friends the insurance companies and politicians have their way you’ll keep me here in this pool of shit hoping for a medication that will work, something that will make my pain go away without causing me to be so damn sick. Excuse me, I’m going to barf again, I’ll be back… if I remember to, did I tell you that turkey screws up memory?


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