the pedophile joke

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i tend to divide the world into two groups: those who get the pedophile joke, and those who don't.

if you fall into the first group, i can probably relax around you; if you don't, i'll always have to be careful in what i say when you're around (in which case i'll probably write you off sooner than later, since i have a hard enough time tolerating people i'm comfortable with, much less those i have to tiptoe around).

i remember exactly where i was when i first heard the joke: a bunch of us had gone to grauman's chinese to see titanic in the big room (so this is, what--1997?). we settle into our seats, we're munching our popcorn, waiting for the lights to go down, and some guy in the row ahead of us tells the joke to his friends. one gasps, the other groans, but neither laughs.

but, boy, i do. in fact, i giggle all the way through the movie, much to the annoyance of everybody around me. titanic, i don't remember so much; the joke, i'll never forget. and in case you haven't heard it by now, it goes like this:

pedophile's walking a little kid into the woods. kid looks up at him, eyes wide, squeezes his hand and says, "gee, mister--it's cold and it's getting dark, and i'm scared."

pedophile looks down at the kid and says, "how do you think i feel? i have to walk back by myself."

after the movie we went somewhere for burgers, and i polled the group--there were six or seven of us--and only two other people found the joke even remotely funny; the rest were horrified that i'd laugh at a joke about child molestation and murder.

and that was one of those light-bulb moments when i realized how differently i see things than most people.

because to me, this wasn't even remotely a joke about child molestation and murder; it was a universal indictment of self-centered, narcissistic assholes everywhere (i.e., the quintessential l.a. inside joke)--and, even though the people around that table that night were talented actors and screenwriters who had individually and collectively been walked into the woods by a never-ending parade of such pedophiles, nobody seemed to get the joke but me.

well, this joke became my litmus test of compatibility--i told it to everybody, just to see how they'd react. and all my real friends (each of whom immediately saw the beauty of the joke, of course) knew this--and they always held my feet to the fire.

me: omigod, i've met this guy [insert name here] i think i really like.

them: yeah, yeah--have you told him the pedophile joke yet?

and almost always, i hadn't--and almost always when i did, that pretty much killed it.

[until v, of course, who not only got it, but--for whatever reason--still chooses to stick around.]

and you, faithful reader? when you first heard this joke, were you horrified, or did you laugh out loud?

and please don't tell me to switch from 7-up to club soda & lime--you think i haven't done that already?

[text]

the effect: posting's been a little light this week.

the cause: i've been a little sober this week.

when i write drunk, it's usually at least train-wreck interesting. when i write sober--if in that sorry state i can be moved to write at all--the result generally isn't anything anybody in their right mind wants to slog their way through (except maybe noblesavage, but that's only if he's in the mood for a mercy fuck).

consequently, i haven't posted since monday--or wanted to, for that matter.

so why have i cut back on my drinking, you ask?

i wish i could say it was because of healthy concern for my psychic and spiritual well-being, or maybe outta simple concern for my liver.

but that would be a lie.

truth is, when it comes to self-destruction i've always been a quick study. and even though i didn't commence my serious drinking until fairly late in life, my tolerance for alcohol has rapidly increased to the point that it currently takes at least ten ounces (i.e. ten shots; i.e. a thousand calories' worth) of vodka to even start to fuck me up to the point that i feel even halfway human enough to write something--and that's just the warm-up.

so basically, my choice has come down to the following: get drunk four-five times a week, post prolifically and be fat, or get drunk maybe twice a week, post sparingly and be thin.

i'm a fag in los angeles--which one do you think i picked?

[acknowledgements: this post could not have been written without the invaluable assistance of olivia newton-john's let me be there (which i had forgotten i hadn't heard in at least 30 years until i happened to drunkenly remember it tonight) endlessly looping in the background. thank you, livvie--and thank you, limewire.]

i meant to post this last week, but there's only so much stupid i can keep in my head at any one time

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[besides, photoshopping of this quality doesn't just happen overnight]


god knows by now i've seen so many m4m ads by "hiv-" and "std free" bareback bottoms demanding similar stats from the random strangers they invite over to ejaculate inside 'em that i barely even blink anymore; it was the exquisitely unintentional irony of this one that put it over the top and into a class of its own.

ok, this totally killed my jesse jackson buzz

[text]
so i'm rockin along today, reasonably not-unhappy--and then i come across this.

the goddam fucking american academy of pediatrics, that august body of pharmaceutical-company-subsidized whores--no longer content to merely ruin the developing brains of our youth with psychotropic and other mind-altering drugs such as ritalin, prozac and zoloft--is now going after the destruction of their bodies as well.

yeah, you read right: now they wanna hook eight-year-olds on cholesterol-lowering drugs--for life.

a choice quote:

Children between the ages of 2 and 10 with a family history of high cholesterol or with parents or grandparents who got heart disease at an early age should be screened, the academy said. Children who are overweight or have other heart disease risk factors, and those with an unknown family history, also should be tested.

yeah, absolutely--to be safe, let's pre-emptively get our kids on maintenance doses of prescription drugs--hell, from birth, if possible--whether there's anything presently wrong with 'em or not.

and the side-effects of cholesterol-lowering drugs? fuck side-effects--even if they include liver impairment, possible muscle degeneration, weakness, immune system suppression--the bottom line is: you give your kids a statin drug, you can then negligently feed 'em all the big macs and other crap they want (since the actual parenting involved in serving kids real, healthy food seems to be too much for the average adult to handle these days). yeah, they'll still be fat, miserable and unhealthy (don't worry--we're working on drugs for that, too), but at least their cholesterol numbers'll look good.

but to be fair, can we really blame the drug companies and doctors here for trying to open up new markets? because profitably fucking with peoples' health when they're young just so that when they're old they'll really need doctors and drugs--that's just good business practice, right?

jesus god, people--when will you wake up and see what's happening to our country?

see, i grew up in an america--and the sad thing is, it wasn't that long ago--where kids ran and played and breathed fresh air and ate food that came from their mothers' kitchens, there were maybe three fat kids in every school (if that many), and if drug prescriptions were rare for adults, they were virtually unheard-of for children.

there was no ritalin or prozac--and no columbines or virginia techs, either (ok, fine--there was whitman in the ut tower in '66, but at least his derangement came from an honest-to-god brain tumor and not some psychotropic medication to which no young, still-developing brain should ever be subjected).

and somehow we--and not only we, but countless humans before us from time immemorial--managed to make it through infancy, youth, middle age and beyond without ever once filling a goddam prescription.

and then--seemingly faster than i could blink--everything's changed.

today? thanks to, among other things, the fact that our idiotic, corrupt congress granted drug companies the power to slickly advertise their poisons on television to a gullible public (something that would have been unthinkable when i was a kid), we now routinely medicate ourselves with promiscuous abandon, as if it was a perfectly normal way to live--you know, "ask your doctor if [insert name of trendy, high-profit-margin poison here] is right for you."

and, this being a free country and all, i guess if today's adults are stupid enough to fall for the notion that they can somehow avoid the consequences of their sloppy, hedonistic, undisciplined lifestyles by taking toxic, liver-destroying prescription drugs foisted on them by unscrupulous drug companies in collusion with the doctors they subsidize, then to hell with 'em--they get what they deserve.

but the kids? are you really willing to sacrifice your children on the altar of big pharma, america?

is no one gonna stand up and righteously denounce these evil white-coated, stethoscoped, eminently respectable paid whores who are willing to sell our kids' long-term health down the river for the sake of present and future profits?

because if not, then all the socialists, robber-baron capitalists and one-world-government types who are individually and collectively out to destroy the sovereignty of america can sit back, have a cocktail and relax--it really is all over but the shouting.

[so there you have it--just one more rant from one of those goddamned homosexuals who's hell-bent on destroying the american way of life]

the master cleanser made (more or less) easy

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[disclaimers:

1. this is a by-request post, so if you're (a) not looking for health and beauty tips, or (b) not looking for health and beauty tips from a falling-down drunk, then skip this one and come back tomorrow or the next day or the day after that; i promise we'll be back to our regularly-scheduled crap by then.

2. if you have medical issues and follow this advice without talking to your doctor first and then on the third day drop dead of hypoglycemic shock or some such shit, please do me the courtesy beforehand of clearing your browser history so that your grief-stricken relatives (and their attorneys) will be unable to figure out where you came up with this hare-brained idea in the first place.]



for those of you who have read this far and are unfamiliar with the master cleanser, it is essentially a lemonade fast that was originated back in the late 1940's by a guy named stanley burroughs; its stated purpose was to free up all the energy the body normally needs for the digestion of food for a short time in order to cleanse various organs and the digestive tract, flush out built-up toxins, eliminate food cravings, regulate weight and generally rejuvenate the system.

that's about all the background i'm gonna go into here--fasts of various kinds have been undertaken by mankind for thousands of years, and millions of words have been written on this particular fast (you can find it all over the web--just google "master cleanser" or "master cleanse"); suffice it to say that, while it's been around forever and legions of people swear by its benefits, it's most recently gained notoriety as a way for celebrities like jared leto and beyonce to drop weight fast. as a result, it's become a bit of a fad, and its basic elements have been lost in translation.

for this reason, most ordinary people who try it not only fail, but fail miserably.

fuck that--actually, there are four reasons most people who do this fast the conventional way fail: (1) it's a pain in the ass; (2) they take shortcuts and end up getting sick; (3) their motivation fails 'em; and/or (4) people today are goddam pussies.

and the first time i did it (long before jared leto and beyonce), i almost failed at it as well. then i threw out most everything i'd heard and read about the master cleanse, modified the original instructions to make it workable in the real world and went on to use it successfully many times--once for 32 days straight.

how does my method differ from the original, you ask? well, let's count the ways:

1. the book says you must mix each serving as needed.

this is total bullshit--who the fuck has time to stop what they're doing six times a goddam day, squeeze lemons and measure various ingredients into a little glass? the answer: nobody but oprah (and that's only because she has five people to do it for her). which is why most people end up putting it off until they're so hungry they finally end up saying fuck it and go get a big mac.

the only way to do this fast (unless you're oprah) is to mix up a day's worth first thing in the morning, throw it in a big thermos or a couple jugs, carry it around with you and sip it all day.

the recipe:

two quarts (distilled or reverse-osmosis-purified) water
3/4 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup grade b maple syrup
as much cayenne pepper as you can stand

four things: (a) if you wanna do this right, buy an electric citrus juicer--they're cheap; (b) get your maple syrup (grade b only) at whole foods, but for god's sake don't buy your lemons there--get those in bulk at your regular market; (c) if you find yourself getting hungry during the day, increase the lemon juice and maple syrup to 1 cup each; and (d) make sure to increase your cayenne pepper as your tolerance allows--if you're gonna do this, don't be a goddam pussy.

2. the book says you must drink the lemonade warm.

yeah, gag me. drink it on the rocks, folks--trust me, it's much more palatable that way (and it's pretty good with vodka too, but that variation is only for my graduate students, sorry).

3. the book says you must do a salt-water flush each morning of the fast.

great idea, stanley--but again, only if you're oprah and have five people to poop for you every day.

this is the second-biggest reason people quit this fast--they don't take the time and trouble the book tells 'em is necessary to eliminate every day, they start feeling sick, and they quit.

here's the deal: anytime you stop eating, you stop pooping--it's elementary. problem is, if you're fasting, it's essential that you eliminate daily; otherwise all the toxins your body is attempting to expel will simply sit there in the digestive tract and be re-absorbed, thus making you sick (as one who's been there, trust me on this one).

but burroughs' solution--the saltwater flush--takes lots of time every morning, and most people will not take the time to do it. and then they'll get sick. and thus, they'll fail.

my solution? get you some psyllium husk at whole foods and take it three times a day with water. this stuff swells up when it gets wet, provides bulk and sweeps through your intestines and out the back door, along with all the toxins. psyllium can provide explosive results if you take too much, so start with half a tablespoon per dose and work your way up (turns out i needed three full tablespoons daily, but you may need even more) until you achieve at least one good poop per day.

[if you go this route, (a) it is essential that, in addition to the lemonade, you drink tons of water throughout the day; and (b) you should still do the saltwater flush on your days off.]

4. the book doesn't tell you what to do when, about halfway through day two, you flip on the tv only to be assaulted by a goddam pizza hut commercial.

or when your family settles down to a hearty dinner without you, or when that fat-ass cunt in the next cubicle tears into her mid-morning bag of doritos, or--well, you get the picture.

when this happens--if you've done what i've told you, anyway--physical hunger won't be the problem, because the lemonade will have taken care of that. what you will discover is how psychologically addicted you are to even the mere idea of food.

and this is the third reason most people fail at this fast.

and all i can tell you is, when this happens (and it will--over and over again), dig deep inside and remind yourself why you embarked upon this course in the first place--in other words, do counter-brainwashing, and do it often.

and if this fails (and only if this fails, because what follows is nothing but a goddam crutch), then there's always

5. the secret weapon the book didn't tell you about.

and i can't fault stanley for not telling you about this--hell, this is something i just discovered myself (and it sure as hell wasn't around when i first did this fast):

get you some hoodia gordonii.

and yeah, this shit works--but not just any hoodia, because most of what's out there is snake-oil crap which contains very little, if any, of the actual ingredient. for the real thing, go to desertburn.com and order either their 750 mg caps or (a much better value) their 1000 mg tabs.

and yeah, it's expensive. but trust me--you take 3000-4500 mgs of this shit every day, (a) you won't even think about food most of the time; and (b) you'll more than make up for the cost every month in junk-food savings alone.

had i hoodia back then, the master cleanse would've been much more of a cakewalk than it actually was.

so anyway, there you have it--the guttermorality way to master-cleansing nirvana. hope it helps (and if it does, please lemme know, ok?).

to jesse jackson: thank you, thank you, thank you

it was shaping up to be a grim, cheerless week--iran testing their missiles, russia rattling their sabers, the senate wiping its collective ass with the bill of rights, southern california poised to go up in flames at any moment--it seemed like every story that broke did nothing but contribute to my growing malaise.

then the right reverend jackson, god love him, with one semi-whispered aside that he assumed the mics wouldn't catch, turned everything around and gave me something to laugh about this week after all--because god knows that in this day and age of spin, hype and subterfuge, nothing cheers me up more than when some phony asshole's public mask slips and we get a glimpse of what's really underneath.

and he confirmed something i've believed for a long time: while barack obama might be beloved by the people, he is highly resented by the "blame whitey for everything" faction of the black leadership in this country, because he's preaching a dangerous new gospel that threatens to end the gravy train they've been riding for the last 40 years.

imagine--barack is going into black churches and talking to black crowds, and telling them that the key to their future is for black families to unite, black fathers to go home and raise their kids, and black mothers to stress learning over entertainment in the home--in other words, they actually have the power within themselves to change their situation.

and, to jesse jackson's mind, this constitutes "talking down" to black people, and is deserving of (at least figurative) castration.

really, reverend?

because, see, i've always considered your message--you know, the "it's not your fault; you're victims of a racist system" rationale you use to explain away any and all of the problems of african-american society--to be "talking down" to black people. i mean, i know it must be comforting to hear that others are to blame for all your problems, but consider the implications of that message: what "you can't succeed because the system's holding you down" really means is, "you're powerless and beholden to the superior white man, and you will never succeed until he does the right thing and gives you the jobs, education and money you deserve."

talk about perpetuating victimhood.

well, you've had a good run, jesse--you were able to shrewdly parlay your association with dr. king into a very lucrative gig shaking down big corporations for white-guilt money, and in the process feathered your nest nicely and lived high. but guess what? it's not 1968 anymore, and barack has figured that out--which is only one of the reasons he's drawing the huge crowds and ascending to heights you could only dream of.

and boy, you hate him for that, don't you?

the guttermorality way to health & beauty

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people are constantly asking me, "mkf, how do you manage to keep your eyes so bright and clear and your skin so soft and supple while maintaining that vibrant glow of youth?"

[ok, that's a lie--the actual question would probably be something more like, "mkf, how do you manage to polish off most of a fifth of vodka, stagger off to bed and make it in to work six hours later with virtually no outward sign of a hangover?"

tomayto, tomahto--either way, the answer's the same.]

several years ago i did a cleanse (yes, virginia, i sometimes engage in non-self-destructive pasttimes) which, among its many unnatural, agonizing and complicated rituals, featured one little routine that was almost a deal-breaker from the get-go, seeing as how it involved my getting up-close and personal with something i fear and loathe above almost all things: namely, cold water.

before we go forward, lemme talk a minute about my cold-water phobia: i spent eleven years in close proximity to one of the greatest natural-spring pools in the world--an oasis which draws people from miles around--and never even so much as put a toe in it. i didn't care how hot it gets in austin in the summertime and how orgasmic peoples' descriptions of barton springs pool tended to be, i'd sweat and swelter all goddam day before i'd jump into 68-degree water (and often did).

and even though i've lived in los angeles for years and have gone to the beach many times, i've never gone anywhere near the actual ocean (of course, that may have as much to do with my aversion to raw sewage as it does my aversion to cold water, but even if santa monica bay was clean as a whistle, it'd be a cold day in hell before you'd ever find my lily-white, goose-pimply ass in there freezing to death).

because, see, i've always been one of those pussies who, rather than taking the plunge and getting it over with, would ease himself slowly, torturously and with great drama into a swimming pool inch by inch, moaning and bitching about how cold it is the whole way--you know, one of those old ladies everybody jeers at and calls names.

and if the hot water went out at home? i'd happily go out into the world looking and smelling like a cheap, greasy whore at the tail-end of three-day fuckfest before i'd even think of allowing cold water to touch my body.

so, knowing all this, imagine my dismay when i got home from the post office with my brand-new cleanse, and--impatient to start my new, healthy lifestyle--ripped into the package, only to realize that a cornerstone of this goddam thing i've opened and now can't return is something called the "hot-&-cold shower." hot-&-cold shower, my ass--my howl of outrage was no doubt heard from one end of my little canyon to the other.

but you know what? they said it was important, they went to great lengths to explain why, and i wasn't about to blow three hundred bucks--so i nutted up and did it. every goddam day for a month.

and you know what else? long after every other element of that dumbass cleanse has been forgotten, the hot-&-cold shower not only remains a part of my daily regimen, it's the single quickest, most restorative thing i know of to reliably take one from feeling like shit to feeling like a million bucks in no time--if you're willing to pay the price.

here's the drill:

1. start with either hot or cold water (i'll let you guess which i start with); if hot, get it as hot as you can stand it--i mean, so hot that you can't stay in one spot for more than a second or two without burning yourself. endure this for 30-45 seconds, while allowing the water to hit every part of your body.
2. then, turn the knob (quickly and with resolve) to the other extreme, and endure that for 30-45 seconds, following the same procedure.
3. repeat the cycle 5-7 times, and you're done--easy as pie, right?

and since the instructions for the hot-&-cold shower (because you can find this all over the internet if you look for it) never tell you how you're gonna feel as the shower progresses, allow me to do so:

the first time that cold water hits you, i won't lie--it's a shock, and the longest 30 seconds you'll ever live. the second time, however, isn't quite so bad--and by the third time, it's starting to feel pretty damn good.

by the time you've gone through five full cycles, trust me: you'll feel like a new person--you will get outta that shower radiating heat, energy and power, and you won't feel the least bit cold.

why is this, you ask? it's simple: when the hot water hits your skin, your arteries, veins and capillaries expand; and when the cold water hits, they contract--with repetition, this sets up a bellows effect within your body that pumps blood with great energy into places you didn't even know you had. bottom line, it's probably the best thing you could possibly do for the health of your circulatory system*.

and the short-term results are kind of amazing, too--for me, it's a hangover cure and general restorative; for my friend fritz the serious runner, it's eliminated the shin-splints that have plagued him since his teens--he calls it his secret weapon and has told none of his fellow runners about it. for my other friends and family--well, i wish i could tell you how it's changed their lives, but i can't.

because, no matter how much i hype it, i can't get anybody else to step far enough outta their narrow little comfort zones to try it even once.

pussies.

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*unless, of course, for you this turns out not to be the case and you drop dead in the shower (and your relatives then sue me). please, check with your doctor before starting this or any other health regimen.