Let’s have a mind and raise flowers.

Weeks ago, on a Sunday, a few friends and I wandered in the forest to spend a day basking in a sulfuric hot springs near Vancouver, CA. As you might imagine, the pleasant smell of the sulfur-laced water was reminiscent of that dream everyone has of wading through a plethoric concentration of rotten eggs, but somehow it was a pleasant experience for me. The natural warmth of mother nature contrasted sensually with her chilled air, and the putrid smells eventually became us because — as is well documented by Cambridge ass-tro-physicists — our own shit don’t stink.

Soon after we arrived a second group joined us consisting of five folks coming from a Renaissance Fair, folks who reminded me of the 80′s video game Golden Axe. They quickly and obnoxiously asserted an uncomfortable social domination over our group, spicing our conversation with shouts of non-politically-correct vulgarity. They got naked (as were most of us), drunk (a cold beer in a hot spring is delightful idea!) and overly-stoned, and then they began literally overly-stoning each other, throwing rocks at each others’ faces and ignoring us, the innocent bystanders. There was one female included in their coterie and it became apparent that an orgy would occur the moment we left. Our presence was a cockblock.

At dusk they brought out a box of 200 glow sticks which lit up the water like a radioactive lightning bug factory. The rock war turned into a glow stick war. “With the rockets green glare, the bongs bursting with THC fortified air, gave proof through the night that empty beer cans were bound to be left there.”

We made our exit as darkness made its entrance, to permit our companions privacy to relieve their blue balls (and the female equivalent) and because there seemed no time limit to their violent ballistic battles. The drunker they got and the darker it got were Oxy clear factors in rapidly declining aim. Oh yeah, and two of their guys were already making out French style.

Most of my group was dissatisfied with the day’s happenings but I was fascinated with this display of raw, timeless human nature. We are all animals, dude. Hear me roar.

By the way, what do you think of “Blue Ovaries” as the name for my autobiography?

All Spice and Periwinkle,
j.j.

my phantom limbs like King Hamlet’s ghost
bear keen witness (grasping hands ever reaching/
haunted feet o’er hallowed earth)

wiry nerves of molten yellow steel groan of a birth long overdue
I’m a seedbed in May.
my drugs have withdrawn from me their happy black talons
find no rest on my pocked and guano-white masts
numb me I mouth-their silent answer nevermore
sex and chastity have sunk their sounding
lines in me (found me shallow/
left me empty)
tell me: which bird or daemon
has placed these seeds in me
their germination’s maggot writhing
threatens like Jack’s bean to pierce the very heaven and its host
its a curious unrest my phantom limbs bring me
if this is sleep-let me dream
if a dream-may I wake to life
and if life it is (what terrifying/
beauty odd and awful is mine)
and I-eating dust limbless and hissing
rattle discordant struck by The Bell Hammer
(in the great pendulous sweep that overshadows/is us)
what a long and lonely road it is to Emmaus!
I stop for no one-I speak to no one
I know this road well my slalom carved s is deep
my skins dot hills
my phantom limbs’ echoes crying
The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life, Now weares his Crowne!

Ryan McGivern

Y’know, when I started this thing I never thought that it would lead to anybody
gettin’ hurt. Man. I feel so…bad about this.
Sure. I knew that being a Matador would involve a cape.
I also knew that it would be a RED cape. I saw that on the instructional video.
And I knew that I’d have some spears and a sword and stuff, but…
Holy balls, dude! I mean I just killed that big cow thing!
When my buddies at the Matador School used to tell me in the locker room:
“Lemme tell you, Juan. Stickin’ it in there and watching the blood shoot out is sooo hot!”
I thought they were talking about something else.
I feel like I’m gonna puke. I was so proud to graduate near the top of my class.
I earned an A+ in “Taunting” and an A- in “Spinal Cord Severing”,
but I thought that was more “theoretical” than “practical”.
Why a big cow would want to play the Matador game is beyond me!
Don’t they know that they’re probably gonna be tortured to death! What sickos!
I’ve never seen so many cows with death wishes like that!
Maybe they’re trying to prove a point or something….That’d be kinda cool.
Like a Don Quixote thing….Hmmm, maybe those cows are awesome.
Well, hell. If its a fight they want, its a fight they’ll get!

Ryan McGivern

5:00 am: JJ awakes to baby birds chirping on his window sill.
He uses an eyedropper to feed them mashed up mealworms.
6:20 am: Ryan wakes up wet again.
6:28 am: Ryan goes back to sleep.
10:30 am: Ryan visits the Encino Sperm Bank and is happy to find the new issue of High Society is in.
10:31 am: Ryan sheepish hands over an empty collection cup to the kind Nurse/Sperm Wrangler, shrugs and says, “Uhh, you’ll need to change the bed sheet in Collection Room Two.”
10:32 am: JJ tells a co-worker, “Sure I can refill your stapler!”
10:33 am: Ryan wanders round the corner from Encino Sperm Bank to Starbucks. He orders a cheesecake danish, knowing he is allergic to wheat and dairy and would experience diarrhea in a few hours. He swallows the pastry in two bites.
10:36 am: Ryan gets in line again and orders another danish.
10:36 am: JJ helps an old woman across the street.
10:42 am: Ryan sees a woman sitting at a small round table by the front door. He stares at her breasts, muffin top, back breasts, and hamhocks as he stuffs the second danish in his mouth.
10:42 am: JJ picks up some litter and places it in its proper recycling bin.
11:03 am Ryan gets caught staring at that woman. She says, ” Can I help you?” Ryan says nothing and stands up, revealing an erection.
11:04 am: Ryan jerkily walks over to the garbage can and looks inside. He pulls out a soggy newspaper and leaves, muttering something about “teases”.
11:04 am: JJ calls his grandmother to remind her to take her medication.
JJ and Ryan McGivern

We have gone too long being blind to the realities of hummus ingestion!
This is a call to ALL people of our Mother Earth to realize: “Real Aussies Eat Hummus!”

The child in this picture: Will it be raised in a pro-Aussie Hummus Eating family? That may be up to you. You sonofabitch.

Wake up, people! You sit there in your self righteousness thinking that real Aussies could some how “maybe eat hummus.” or think “eating hummus is not a requirement of authentic Australianism.”
You make me sick.
Look at the state of affairs in our hummus consumption. People are using it as a chip dip, adding it to salads, sandwiches, as a ‘side’ or as a condiment. All this is done without a single consideration of how eating hummus has been completely co-opted from “The Natural, God Created Order of Australia” as a hummus centered State.

P.S. You Austrailians who don’t eat hummus-I’m praying for you.

Ryan McGivern

Al Gore tells us Global Warming is a horrible thing. I say bring on the heat, bitch! (Al Gore is my bitch, btw). Winter sucks like a vacuum cleaner snagging that brilliant 14 caret diamond ring your true love bought you instead of feeding an African village. But this isn’t a political diatribe — this entry is about the future. This is an entry about surfing!

In twenty years, California will be under water leaving Utah as the new California, and Colorado as the new Utah. This will cost millions in re-designing state flags. With all the bodies washing ashore upon the sandy beaches of the cozy little beach communities like Brigham City, St. George, Nephi, and Lehi, residents will decide to coat them in Sex Wax and surf them on some totally tubular and toasty waves!

They will then get baptised for the salvation of their surf board/dead people.

2028 will be a great year for (the new) California’s tourism industry.
It will be a horrible year for Mormons.

“I liked it better when people just came to float in our salty stinky lake and look at our big church,” They’ll say. “Now they’re coming here to visit DisneySwamp and drinking coffee and wearing shorts and everything, dude!” They will then let off steam by catching some more toasty waves and sparking blunts while watching the sunset.

One of the Olson twins will be elected Governor of Utah and one of Tom Cruise’s international adoptees (the Vietnamese girl named Missy Starlight Cruise) will be Mayor of Salt Lake City.

Did we mention that Global Warming will also put Florida under water? The Church of Scientology will be forced to relocate their headquarters to Salt Lake City where they will find sensible interaction with the Mormon population utterly impossible, except for one violently beautiful thing: The Annual Scientology/Mormon Surfing Championship.

The Hubbard Tech employing OT IV named Sonny “Hang Ten” Thomas will be the Scientologist to beat and Trix “Far Out” Young will be the LSD dropping LDS superstar surfer to challenge “Hang Ten” in the Finals.

“I saw you do a Maui Wowy and wonk out on some sketchy bombora heavies yesterday, bra.” Hang Ten will say.
“Dude, I max out daily like morning papers. If you saw me go over the falls, that’s only because I shred like Jared shred up Omer.” Will say Far Out.
“Shha! You spittin’ like you got toes on the nose, bra, but unlike Samuel, you won’t be protected in the tube.”
“Don’t tweak out, newbie. I’m primo in the tubes.” Far Out will show him his undergarmet hem by zipping down his Body Glove suit a bit. “Just because you’re SeaOrg, you think you’re tops but you ain’t near off the Richter!”

The next day on the bone yard, the beach bunnies will gather and root for their fave wave greats. The Big Championship will have arrived…

Everyone was there, even President Chelsea Clinton! Everyone, that is, except for Hang Ten and and Far Out.

Hang Ten was at the morgue. Far Out had murdered him the night before when Hang Ten said he had sex with all seven of Far Out’s mothers. Far Out was arrested, taken to jail and escaped. At this very moment, he was lying in a hammock between to palm trees in Fairbanks, Alaska.

How did Far Out escape? It seems he had hidden a lock-picking set in his perineum fistula. Also tucked there was a copy of his well worn and dog eared Book of Mormon. Ravaged by the guilt of biting a man to death, he found strength to carry on in the words: “So if you have faith, you also have hope, for without faith there is no hope.” That is, until he lost his faith four days later after reading “Origin of the Species”, “Beyond Good and Evil”, “The Selfish Gene”, “Being and Nothingness”, and “Gravity’s Rainbow”.

Far Out reached into his pus filled perineum fistula, pulled out his whittling knife, and whittled himself a surfboard from a mighty oak which he rode down a hill into the freeway, killing himself and fourteen others in a giant pileup.

The Moral Of The Story: The global climate crisis is inevitable.

JJ and Ryan McGivern

For those Mindflowers readers that missed my birthday, please order the following print:

The print above is titled Strange Cargo and was created by Mario Martinez (nicknamed Mars), a left-handed artist based in San Francisco. His lefthandness puts him in superlative company as 100% of Mindflowers staff are left-handed. You can order Strange Cargo here. Send to JJ; PO Box 99100; Seattle, WA 98139. Thank you.

More works by Mars are pasted below. They are like my doodles if I were Jesus and on mushrooms. Apologies, but I haven’t discovered information about titles, materials, years of creation or dimensions. Link to his website

Person one: “So, where are you thinking we should put it tonight? Vaginal?”
Person two: “Nah, anal. Definitely anal.”

[thanks Abby!]

Get ready for Jesus’ return!
Make your plans to spend the Son of Man’s glorious return along with
me, Ryan McGivern and the rest of the mindflowers.net team
in Frankenmuth, Michigan Saturday May 21st, 2011.

Call 1-800-Fun-Town today to plan out your weekend now!

May 21st 2011 in Frankenmuth Michigan will feature the World Expo of Beer: a great
two day festival of the world’s finely crafted premier beers. Expect the beautiful setting
of Heritage Park along the serine Cass River to welcome you with the sounds of Polka, hearty laughter, and good friends to reconnect with.

Also expect the return of Jesus, the warm hearted Nazarene, as he comes to shine mercy and grace upon Earth in a rule of justice, equity, and shalom peace.

“Remember to Make Summer 2011 a Summer to Remember!”

General Beer Expo admission cost will be around 1,200$ (adjusted for inflation) but the
sight of Jesus lovingly floating through the sky over Green Acres Golf Course, Fortress Golf Club, and Timbers Golf Club will be priceless!

(The golf near Frankenmuth is exceptional. Once global order and justice is made by the King of Kings, only expect it to get better!)

Join me, Ryan McGivern, JJ, and Lo Liz in Frankenmuth Michigan May 21st, 2011!

World Beer Expo Info 
http://www.frankenmuthfestivals.com/
1 800 FUN FEST (386 3378)

[This simple warm-up game for two or more players exercises skills in spontaneity and concentration. This entry was adapted from the Improv Encyclopedia]

One person is ‘caller’ and the other(s) are ‘players’. The caller yells a letter to one of the players; that player must state (1) the name of a person, (2) an object or a service that can be sold, and (3) a location, all starting with the letter given. Example would be `B` which leads to “Barney sells Bread in Bulgaria”. Anything goes, as long as it comes out instantaneous; if not the player hesitates or strays from the letter, that player becomes caller.