I consolidated the stories about Fred.


...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Friday, April 4, 2014

Dirt Nap Arranger.

For millennia, mankind embraced Mother Earth as healer and nurturer of our very essence. We slept in her bosom and she protected us and gave us sustenance. And in return we gave her offerings of love and respect. And then the mysogensitic Industrial Revolution happened and we left Gaia behind for the violence and vain insubstantiality of machines and technology. And in return we reaped, fear and hate and war. And despaired. Yet our Mother still yearned for us to come back and rest in her loving arms.
   And that is why I opened Earth's Loving Embrace, Dirt Naps. Where for a relatively small amount of worldly currency, you can come to my restive peaceful secluded patch of land and sleep as we were intended to, in an earthen hole, surrounded by the warm smells of roots and clay and loam, in the grasp of our benevolent matron/nurturer.
    That is why, Mr Tony "The Face Stabber" Lianuzzi, that I do not feel that you are entitled to a refund. Just because you hired me to give Lenny "The Back-Stabbing-Turncoat-Snitch-Dirty-Meatball-Scumbag-Lying-Weasel" Tortelli, a Dirt Nap, and he declined, it is not my fault. If your friend does not feel the need to get back in touch with his primitive feminine side, there is nothing I can do. What do you expect me to do, force him at gunpoint?!
   Speaking of guns, do you know some gentlemen from Efbeyie? There have been some rather severe looking men in solemn attire sniffing around lately, asking a lot of questions. Those testosterone laden jackboots, seem to think we are involved in some nefarious dealings.