Two Ways to Pray

At the In-N-Out Burger, McCarthy Ranch, Milpitas, CA

The In-N-Out at McCarthy Ranch is a booger to get to. I always come at it from the north, usually coming back from a gig in Oakland, or visiting parents in Walnut Creek. Unfortunately there's no convenient freeway entrance and you have to go to Zanker Rd in San Jose and come back to Milpitas. Milpitas is an Ohlone tribe word that means 'nice place but too close to the sewer plant and stinks in summer.'

I don't know how he does it but the Incredibly Reverend One was sitting at a table with Freud as if waiting for me. I ordered then went over to say hi and for some reason they were nice to me.

"Want to join us?" The IRO asked me. I couldn't as I had to get home. I could smell alcohol and Freud's eyes were even redder than usual. I wondered if The IRO wanted me there to keep Freud occupied.'

Portal to cosmic understanding or burger joint?

"You should sit your ass down," Freud said so loud it sounded like he was inviting all occupants of cars in the drive through.  Before The IRO could stop him Freud stood up and got on the bench of the table where they were eating and started orating.

"You should sit your ass down then thank god for it. Yes, god I am grateful for my ass, for as I know that while god rested on the 7th day, on the 8th day he created the ass. And god said, 'Verily and in truth I have created the ass and it is good. Henceforth will man grab it and shout, or grunt, my name in ecstasy."

Freud sat down and went back to eating as if nothing happened. He ate by picking up one fry at a time, studying it, waving it through ketchup and stuffing it in his face followed by a large bite of burger and a swig of chocolate shake. He had one order of fries, eight burgers and three shakes in front of him.

"You should pray to god to fix your ass," he said to me.

"There's nothing wrong with my ass." At least I didn't think there was. I looked at the IRO or guidance but he was cutting his fries with a knife and eating them slowly. He offered no help.

"Scrawny, thin, pancake-ish and scrawny," Freud said. "You should be praying."

"Do you really think god will make my ass more attractive if I pray?"

Thankfully the IRO broke in. "There are two ways to pray," he offered. "Let's say you want some apricots. You can go to a church, confess your sins, put money in the poor box, recite things in dead languages and hope and hope and hope for some apricots.

"Or you can pray with a shovel, some dirt and some small apricot trees. You pray by digging holes, putting the trees in the holes then taking care of the tree until it gives you apricots. In the same manner you can pray for your childrens' safety by counting beads or by teaching them about crosswalks. I'd bet on crosswalks being a more efficient way of praying."

I was a bit confused. "What does this have to do with my ass? Is it really to small?"

"Actually I never thought about your ass and don't want to begin now. But if you eat a couple of dozen apricots you'll find out what it has to do with your ass."

Jazzuflecting and Jazzufaction

REAL TIME GOSPEL ENTRY: Arcata, California, just north of the Lost Coast

Another gorgeous spot. I would ask 'how does god do that' but I'd find another scrap of paper with food stains calling me an idiot.

I was having a bbq at the Community Forest with some friends. We had flatiron steaks, some shrimp and clams and were enjoying some Humboldt air when we saw two young men in black pants, white shirts and black ties going around and talking to the people at the park. We were going to go offer them some beer when I noticed a very nicely dressed man hanging out with what looked like a sack of potatoes that sprouted a hairy head and spindly legs.  The IRO and Freud. How did they wind up in the same place as me?

Scott C showing some excellent Jazzuflecting

Then I saw The IRO and Freud coming our way. If I knew them at all I knew Freud was coming for the food.

"Hey Reverend!" I called out and the missionaries turned to look, just in time to see The IRO get pretty pissed that I was focusing attention his way.  He didn't say anything when he got to us; I could see his upper lip tensing and the irritation rising in him. Freud just started grabbing food, first the bbqed clams, a slice of steak and a swig of an already opened and drunk from beer.

I hoped I could divert The IROs anger from me to someone else. "How 'bout them missionaries, telling people they know more about god than they do. Why don't they just teach them how to genuflect and go away?

NOTE TO SELF DELETE BEFORE POSTING: Cool website with instructions on genuflecting, kissing priests hands ("because they alone are able to confect the Holy Eucharist" whatever the puke that means...)


"Only you could be in a beautiful place like this and be so stupid" The IRO said to me. "Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints do not genuflect, they fish.

"Even on their own website you can tell they are not so sure about what they are doing. I quote (how do I write a quote of one person quoting another?) ""May you utilize the information herein to your benefit, and to magnify your calling in moving forward the Lord's work, even here in the Eureka California Stake.""

"But you, you should learn to genuflect. It will be a symbol to god (if there is one) and you should do it every time you are happy. If you eat a delicious fruit or veggie for the first time each season you should do it. When you realize that the glasses you thought you lost were actually still in the case you should do it. When your alarm fails to go off and you jump out of bed in a panic then find out it's Saturday and you don't have to get up, you definitely need to be thankful and genuflect."

"Are those the only times?" I asked. I sucked down a bbq clam and I think a little of the juice his his shoes. Oh crap.

A moment of obvious anger then with a calm smile, "Now here is how I want you to genuflect. Raise one knee. Raise both hands, palms out with your fingers stretched. I think this position is called jazz hands. Look upward in great thanks."

"Should I have my knee pointed straight ahead, or turn it across my body?"

"If you feel many cross your body. If your feminine side is shining through, then pull your knee to the out side of your body. From now on you will refer to this as jazzuflecting™ and the glorious ecstasy you get from it will be called jazzufaction™."

Freud was slamming down the seafood now, and most of the steak was gone. "I'm gonna go pee on a redwood tree" Freud said as he wobbled and meandered across the really green grass over to a grove of giant trees. Just as he disappeared around the base of a giant sequoia The IRO shouted out, "Dessert time! I think I am going to fork this pie."

I am not sure what Freud was doing on the other side of that tree but it took him 7 minutes and when he came back he had a look of extreme jazzufaction.

So beautiful

I was having such a beautiful day! I was hiking with my squeeze and my hound, Charlie, just south of Lake Tahoe. Such a beautiful day. Clean air. Few people. Saw scads of chipmunks.

Since I was a teenager I have a way of communing with nature. I, uh, mark the base of a redwood tree. I guess it makes me feel a bit more like an animal.

I left my squeeze and Charlie sitting by the lake and walked down a fire road to find just the right tree.  Just as I was shaking things out I noticed a scrap of paper partially under a rock. Here is what it said:

The tree on the right is the one I made holy

"I don't know why you (smoooshed bug) think I can help you with (I hope it's ketchup) and keep following me and (I hope to god it's mayo) and we may have to write a (more mayo) agreement to keep it that way.

But here is some advice for you. If you want to be happy learn to love life. If you want to be really happy, learn to love love."

I really thought that was beautiful and went to tell my squeeze. When she saw me she looked panicked and wanted to leave right away. Apparently there was a strange many in the cab of a pickup truck who parked near her and covered up his windows. Could be Freud...

God's Greatest Gifts

NOTE TO YOU AGNOSTICS OUT THERE: Sorry for the long verse here but it’s a gospel, damn it and I have to include everything. I wish I could do differently, but alas I am just a Tool of the Church.™

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I was eating a garden burger at Crepevine in San Rafael before rehearsal on Thursday, sitting on the sidewalk with Charlie the lab and an ex-student of mine when The Incredibly Reverend One and Freud walked by. There was a farmer’s market happening there on 4th St. and Freud was carrying a bag of groceries. I could hear Freud whispering ‘tamale’ to his bag of groceries like he was trying to seduce it.

Note to self- find garden burger photo

“Mr. Fladabosco!” I kind of shouted out to him. He was only a few feet away and was embarrassed as people looked to see which idiot was yelling ‘Fladabosco.’ All I got from Him was the Look. I think more to shut me up than anything he came over to our table.

Now Charlie is a great dog and pretty well behaved but he’s still a puppy. I don’t think The IRO knew I had the dog there, and as dogs like to do, he stuck his big white doggy snout right where the IRO wasn’t expecting it.

I have been thinking about how to describe the sound The IRO made but I think I have it. Imagine you find out that you have won the lottery the same time that you realize the beneficial bacteria in your lower digestive tract have quit working and your body is going to try to get rid of the beans, pork chops and banana milkshake you had for lunch - one way or another. Or that a large hairy white dog has just stuck his snoot into your crotch in public and put a big drool spot in an embarrassing place on your tailored Italian slacks.

I grabbed Charlie’s leash and pulled him back. If The Look has a turbo mode, he was giving it to me. “Sorry, sorry, so sorry” I said several times.

“Charlie is a good dog, but he still has stuff to learn. I am trying to teach him to think before he lunges at someone.”

“I don’t blame the dog but you are an idiot as usual” The IRO said, “People think, dogs do.”

“Can I ask you a question about religion?” I asked him as ladies walked past dressed  in tie-dyed shirts and carrying dogs the size of a soupspoon.

He didn’t answer, he just gave me The Look. I asked anyway.

“Supposed you were to find that  your house burned down. Does that mean that god is mad at you? Maybe you did something in a past life the POed him off or maybe if you are cool about it you will be rewarded in a later life, right?”

The Look again.

“Listen dimbulb (one of the nicest things he has called me) why do you ask me such stupid questions. You know we can’t know such things.”

“But don’t we need an explanation of why there are miracles and tragedies?”

Big sigh. “I am going to give you an answer then we are going to go on your way so Mr. Freud and I can finish shopping.  I tried to buy a bowtie at a strip mall but there was a school across the street and a bunch of girl scouts were painting the flagpole and I had to deal with Freud fainting.”

“But here is you answer: I do not care. I do not know. All I know is that Reality is God’s True Religion™ and God’s greatest gifts to man are fear, worry, pain and guilt. Good-bye.”

As he and Freud turned to leave I started mumbling ‘huh, what, hold it’ but they kept going. In a little desperation I called out ‘sausage and doughnuts!’ and Freud stiffened like he’d been tased. The IRO turned back “what the hell did you do that for?”

“How could you say something like that and leave, knowing it would ruin my day?” I could see a little smile coming to his lips and figured he was trying to think of a nice nickname for me.
 
“How could I not say something like that knowing it would ruin your day” he smirked. I was learning to dislike the smirk, Reverend or not.

“Without pain we would die of our injuries. Without worry babies wouldn’t make it past their first day. Without fear we would walk off of cliffs of elect Libertarians. And without guilt all the good people would act just like all the bad people.”
Before I could ask anything else he grabbed Freud’s arm and started walking westward.  I heard him mutter ‘sphincter breath.’

At the Monterey Fish House

There I was sitting in the bar of the Monterey Fish House having a piece of sole before my concert. The place was crowded with the usual Friday night crowd and some people in for the Pebble Beach golf tournament. I sat at the bar. Somehow, for some reason, there was the Incredibly Reverend One. He was wearing his usual fantastically tailored pinstripe blue suit with expensive looking shoes. As always he was neat as a pin. But something was wrong.

(I have to interject here, damn, writing a gospel I know I should put everything in but there are some things that just don’t seem right.)

“Where’s Freud?” he asked me.

“No idea. I didn’t even know you were here.” His eyes were red like he’d been crying. “Are you ok?”

“Sure.” He was slammed. Drunk, Starting to lean.

Are tuna genitals kosher if they smell like humans?

I glanced behind me and saw Bob Freud, drunk and slightly teetering, leaning over to smell the hair of a young lady. She hadn’t noticed yet. Bob sniffed her hair and his eyes rolled back like he was trying to remember it forever. He teetered too far and hit his chin on her shoulder.

The lady shrieked a pretty good shriek - A Bride of Frankenstein shriek. I can’t blame her. Freud’s eyes were rolling.

“I musk have had too much to drink” he told her loud enough to call the orcas in from the bay. “I am really sorry I leaned into you. I am just not all right and I kind of leaned. Like the time I was at the Polytechnic University of Mexico attending a lecture about fish. Tunas are amazing.”

He was still being loud and some people were trying to ignore him. “I found out a lot about them. I saw one lecture where the guy explained the the genitals of certain female South Atlantic tunas smell like human beings.”

Bob walked back to his seat next to The Incredibly Reverend One. He turned to me and said, “even if there is no god life is not worth living if you are not thankful. I am thankful. I am thankful I am not Bob Human Being Freud.”

About Bob Freud

Yes I know this is supposed to be a gospel and I am only supposed to report what I see, but Bob is starting to freak me out. He's a good friend of the Incredibly Reverend Salvatore Fladabosco but they seem to be total opposites. The Incredibly Reverend One dresses like an Armani model. He must spend a fortune on clothes and have a great tailor. Bob Freud looks like a businessman who has been homeless for three or four days.

The IRO acts in a reserved manner, like he is starring in a 1930's romantic comedy. He is classy and tasteful. He speaks carefully and slowly. Freud talks like he has been holding his idea for an hour and finally he blurts it out. It's moving when he is talking about religion or politics but it can be embarrassing when he is trying on socks or asking a waiter where the men's room is.

I ran into them once while eating an apricot scone at Mission Coffee* in Santa Clara. I was sitting at a bar stool when they walked by and typical of the IRO when he is with Freud, he pretended not to see me. Freud had a briefcase.

"Hi Bob!" I called out cheerily. Bob turned to me and blurted so fast I could hardly understand him, "Of all the coffee joints, in all the towns, in the world, she has to walk into mine" and laughed like it was hilarious. Some movie quote or something.

"Uh, yes, Bob," I said and took a step back. I didn't hear what the IRO ordered but it was probably his usual, a quadruple espresso over ice. Unsweetened.

My conversation with Bob ended there. There was a young lady at a table near by, undoubtedly a Santa Clara U student. She held up a traingular shaped scone (blueberry, thank god) and licked the frosting in a straight line right across the top. Bob bent over forwards and holding his briefcase in front of his, uh, nether regions he ran back to the bathroom.

I finished my scone in silence as the IRO inhaled the espresso in one gulp. I think he swallowed some ice too but he was so tasteful he hardly made a face. So much class!


* One of the worst parts of writing a gospel is that I really have to tell the truth. I don't want people to find out about those scones. When you eat one god screams at you that they rock rock rock!!!

Meeting Bob

I bumped into the IRO at Santana Row today. He told me he was shopping for bow ties. I believe him.

He introduced me to a friend of his name Robert Freud. “You mean as in Sigfried?’ I asked. “Let's just say they are related in certain ways” he replied.

Bob chimed in "I have heard family rumor that he's an ancestor, but I am nothing just like him.”

“What?”

“I said I am nothing like him.”

The IRO is a snappy dresser and takes great care of his clothes but Mr. Freud looked like he had gone to bed fully dressed and not changed when he got up. For a few days. Wearing cheap clothes.

“What is that brown stuff on your pants?” I asked him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “My own invention. It’s a mistletoe belt buckle.” Now I was sure. Apparently it stayed on his belt at least into the ides of January.

I asked the IRO if we could have lunch together. He took one look at Bob and shook his head no. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t want to know.

“Can I ask you a question about religion?” I asked him as we walked past fancily dressed ladies carrying dogs the size of a soupspoon.

He didn’t answer, he just gave me The Look. I asked anyway.

“Supposed you were to find that  your house burned down. Does that mean that god is mad at you? Maybe you did something in a past life the POed him off or maybe if you are cool about it you will be rewarded in a later life, right?”

The Look again.

“Listen dimbulb (one of the nicest things he has called me) why do you ask me such stupid questions. You know we can’t know such things.”

“But don’t we need an explanation of why there are miracles and tragedies?”

He took a big sigh. “I am going to give you an answer then you are going to go on your way so Mr. Freud and I can finish shopping.  I tried to buy a bowtie at a strip mall but there was a school across the street and a bunch of girl scouts were painting the flagpole.”

‘”So?”

“So Mr. Freud here fainted. But here is you answer: I do not care. I do not know. All I know is that Reality is God’s True Religion.™”

And he went into Brooks Brothers. I know he’ll find a bow tie there and I know he’ll consider it a miracle.