Lumpy Thoughts

Death by bacon... Amen

As a child, I recall waking up in Sunday mornings to the smells of bacon frying in the kitchen. A sleepy half coherent “husky” boy in a stupor lying beneath the covers, tickled to semi-alertness by the smell of pig in a pan.

A heavy cast iron frying pan blackened and encrusted with flavor and character from years of dutiful service, nearly one half inch deep in bacon grease, frying up crispy, delicious, salty, porcine, bacon. Only to be followed by eggs floated gingerly into the greasy lake so as not to ripple the waters of heaven. As if floating weightless in the arterial prohibitive, pond-like goodness of grease. Popping and spattering like a de-tuned two cycle engine. Globules of grease flying through the air, sticking to, and stinging the skin. A welcomed sacrifice to receive these scars of homage of the goodness to come. Eggs bordered with a crispy frame. A frame to border the work of art that was Sunday morning breakfast.

Simply put, Bacon I love thee. You are truly the food of the gods. Candy of the heavens. You are the throne upon which god himself sits to oversee all of creation. Albeit God most likely puts down a layer or two of paper towels so as not to grease up his robes (after all, you have to be considerate of the laundry). I imagine the gates of heaven are woven of bacon. Sweet succulent maple bacon woven together (perhaps a nice herring bone pattern) cordoning off the kingdom from undeserving soles and vegans.

I envision Hell’s gates are that tasteless faux turkey bacon charred beyond being edible. Hard, rubbery, bitter, foul Fakeon (fake bacon). Hell wouldn’t have bacon at all, only tofu. Everything tofu. Got to hell… hell. You’re not bacon.

Bacon is so good, it’s used to make other foods better. Bacon on a salad, sandwich, potato, anything. Bacon on a rock, stick, goldfish, book. Heck, id bet bacon on dog crap rocks.

When I die, I pray the cause of death states bacon. For if it does, it would indicate I died happy. Not any of the diseases or conditions listed as a side effect of greasy foods, simply bacon. My tombstone should read, “Here lies Larry Dolan. Bacon”. Isn’t that enough. Anyone reading that couldn’t be sad. They’d see the word bacon, and smile.

I now realize, and an pray I continue my life as if I were bacon. Making people feel good. Spreading happiness, joy, warmth. Improving, adding and making better all that I touch. Yeah, like bacons greasiness, Ill kill a few people along the way (oops, my bad), but overall id be loved. I would like the names Larry and Bacon to be synonymous. I want to hear the words, “you know what this party needs? Bacon/Larry”. Or “I love Larry/Bacon”. Possibly even, “you know what would go great on this? Larry/Bacon”.

Let bacon be your guiding light. Think of all the joy you could bring.

These are my Bacon Thoughts.

My Sun

One morning before work,I was watching SpongeBob with my son (aka. The Auginator, aka The Auger, aka J-Walker, i.e. ding-dong, duck-butter, dude, babito, etc.). A Micky-D commercial came on where Ronald and some kids were looking at a beautiful, dark, expansive and empty sky. Nothing above but endless darkness. Inspiring. When all of a sudden, this clown (literally) pulls out a glowing blue ball (what’s the symbolism?) throws it up into the air and BAM. Space clutter.

Suddenly the heavens are filled with crap. Stars,clouds, plasma, electromagnetic radiation, dark matter and dark energy. You name it and it’s there. Gone is the clean clear simplicity that was a dark sky.

I thought to myself, what a presumptuous bastard.Who does this company think they are to impose their definition of the heavens upon us? Why, is a sky filled with their crappy vision something to smileabout?

It was then I told the boy, I cant let that happen. From now on, I own the sun. I’m going to stake my claim and I defy anyone to contradict me. At 7:09am CST (02/11/09) I went on Facebook and posted “Larry is stating his claim to ownership of the sun. Being a terrestrial sphere outside of the earth’s legal systems, I also declare myself Planetary Daddy...”

My son went crazy. “Dad, you can’t do that. Nobody can own the sun.” I responded “I do”. “Prove it” he said. “Prove I don’t” I replied. It kept going back and forth with him getting angrier as time went on. “you cant”, “I can”, “It’s illegal”, “The sun doesn’t answer to your earthly laws”, “you just cant say it’s yours”, “I did”.

The exchange carried on for over ten minutes, including the ride to school. Even told him when I came home, nobody has contradicted my claim yet… I guess it’s really mine. Believe it or not he’s still angry.

I just googled “who owns the sun”. While there’s books and questions with that title, I could find no conclusive answer to debunk my claim. So… guess what’s mine? Yep, the Sun. I own it outright. It’s mine all mine.

You are all welcome to share it. I’m not stingy. Oh crap! What about skin cancer, sun burn, solar radiation? I better get alawyer.

Disclaimer: unauthorized usage of the sun, it’s rays, energy, winds, resources, properties, etc. are done so at ones own risk. Neither the Sun, Planetary Daddy, residents, citizens or applicants may be held liable for any results therin. So it is written, so it shall be done. etc. etc.etc.

(re-published from 03/09)

The Watch-Man

In one sense, I’ve lived my life in anonymity. Not that I’ve had any desire to remain unknown, not to hide my true identity. But, as you non-mutants would refer to it… my unearthly super powers.  My secret  abilities. My deep dark secret.

I’m sure many of you non-believers are saying “bull $#!t”, “Super powers my @$$”, “That crap ain’t real”.  Believe it you hominids. Super powers exist. You may not even be aware of yours. It could be so everyday. So seemingly average or mundane it’s nearly invisible. Or, so outlandish  you’re in disbelief.  It took me nearly 50 years to discover mine. I didn’t even realize it myself… at first. Others began to notice and discuss it behind my back. The whispering, the staring, the screams…

You’re probably curious as to my power (or powers?). I’ve mentioned it prior. You may have missed it, or gleamed right past.  I haven’t learned how to control it, manipulate, or use it for good or evil. I haven’t saved anyone with it. I can’t even make a buck off it… yet.

It’s… I’m frightened to announce for the world to hear… It’s (gulp), the ability to see 5 seconds into the future of television broadcasting or movies. There… I’ve said it. It’s out there for the world to see. I’m not ashamed, nor proud. But I am cleansed. It’s out, open, and on the table. A secret eating away at my inner peace no more. IM FREE! FREE I SAY.

It’s been gnawing away at my sanity for years. Is it a blessing or a curse? You decide. Imagine, we’re sitting in a dimmed room, watching Maury Povich, and 5 seconds before it airs I yell, “he ain’t the baby daddy”. Or could you imagine watching the Shinning and me saying “Here’s Johnny” 5 seconds before Jack sticks his head through the door? Watching SpongeBob and I say “let’s go Jellyfishing” before Spongebob and Patric.

 It’s scary stuff. In my head, It’s like watching a movie where the soundtrack isn’t synced with the film. Add to that, I must have visual turrets where I have to say it before you see it.  I can’t control it. At best, Im a spoiler.  I have a friend whose power is to finish your sentence. You can see his lips moving when you start to speak, they speed up, and eventually finish before you. Together we can combine our powers and predict 7-1/2 seconds into a movie. Impressive huh?

But where do we take it? How do we use it? Is it good or evil? Should we make costumes? Would a cape make my @$$ look big? All real questions.

Now that this is public, will my life change for better or worse. Only time will tell.

I am The WatchMan. I will watch and continue to advance notify all that surround me of our media viewing. My able assistant will continue to lip read in ahead of your speech. Together we will fight the monotony of silence and the tyranny of the media unknown. With liberty, and justice for all.