September 30, 2012: Bob and I would like to express our sincere gratitude for the outpouring of support we received regarding the removal of his testicles. Things came off fine, so to speak, and he shows no linger effects, save a new tendency to blush.
It’s morning in America and I’m happy to report that things are swell. Halloween is coming and the leaves, too, are blushing, as am I. In fact, last night I indulged in yet another viewing of my all-time favorite spooky mood movie “Halloween III: Season of the Witch.” I was further thrilled to be joined by my son, Max, who commented to me so sharply during the closing credits, in heartfelt disbelief, “THAT’S your favorite horror movie?!!”
Yes, it is, my young pup, and I’ll never be able to explain it to anyone who doesn’t understand the strange, spooky subtleties of the Halloween spirit—a kind of kid-like magic that surrounds things like autumn-time hide-and-seek in the dark, diving under bushes to avoid detection when one of Conal Cochran’s evil robots drives by in a white Mazda … (After all, what does anyone under 30 understand about being a kid?!) Sure, it’s a bit over-the-top in places, but shouldn’t we give ourselves over to such experiences, like my cat did?
But I’m being vague, and that’s not why you visit this Blah-ugh! … I don’t think. Why DO you visit this Blah-ugh! anyway? I mean, what exactly is your problem? (I know what MINE is, after all, but that’s why I take the medication.)
Anyway, if for no other reason, Halloween III is worth the viewing for Tom Atkins’ terrific honest acting reactions each time he’s faced with a violence scene. As you know, Atkins plays Dr. Dan Chalice—brilliantly—subtly—and when this grisly, hulking, mustachioed actor moans and reacts, it’s so perfectly authentic. For instance, when he’s punching one of the guards and the guy doesn’t even flinch. “Oo-oh!” Atkins moans—a model of depth and truth. He should have been the hero in the Die Hard movies, and yes, my ignorant child, Dr. Chalice will remain one of my all-time favorite fictional heroes, right up there with Capt. Kirk, Mr. Thackery, Ed Wood and Andre Gregory.
Now, I intended to talk about meditation, as you garnered from the title, but we all know what good intentions are, or what good it is having them, especially when you have no intention of following them. But I did, and that’s why I’m confused, or at least I’m GETTING confusing in a tough effort to keep YOU from being confused … You see, ironically all I can think about right now is that I just realized orange juice gives me upflux, and this is ironic because meditation is all about concentration and not letting your thoughts drift to vomit or breasts—not letting vomit-covered breasts cloud your anchoring to the present moment.
So what can I really say about meditating anyway, except I’ve been practicing it. Hell, I don’t even know what meditation’s about, nor should, because if I did I’d be one of those hype frauds, like Wayne Dwyer, or Dyer, or whatever his name is. Now, in my critical estimation, there’s a nervous man. When you listen to his tapes you can just hear his teeth grinding. That’s why I’m a dedicated Deepak Chopra man and proud of it. I always feel like Deepak is embarrassed at having to be commercial, but his handlers keep encouraging it.
My newest discovery is Eggbert Tolle (Reinhart … some German name). He’s really on the money with his crap, I must say, and I’m getting a lot out of HIS book. The hardest part—and believe me, it took me a full year—was getting over the disturbing picture of him on the back, where he looks like a kind of mutated Dr. Seuss character, with that chin beard and what I find to be a suspicious and disturbing elfin expression.
Anyway, meditation is good, vomit is bad, breasts are very good, cats are good if they don’t have testicles, Halloween III is awesome and Tom Atkins is the best!