"If providence did beards devise,
To prove the wearers of them wise,
A fulsome goat would then, by nature,
Excel each other human creature." - Thomas D'Urfey

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Channeling Your Inner Goat

The weather has been rather warm of late and I have had a lot of time to stand about in the shade philosophizing. So it seems, during one of my more fruitful deliberations, I began contemplating The Inner Goat. Naturally, I am sure you are quite skeptical that anyone, let alone everyone, might actually possess something remotely resembling an Inner Goat. You might simply surmise that I am deluded and spouting some sort of New Age gibberish. However, I can assure you that is not the case.

Now that we have that out of the way, let us first examine what The Inner Goat actually is. Have you ever been lying about on a summer day, lazily gazing up at the clouds, and become vaguely aware of that still, small voice within? You know, the one that whispers, 'Hey! Bum cheeks asleep here! Shift those boys around, for goats' sake!!?' Or you're standing about grazing one beautiful evening, look up to see a coyote trotting your way, and that same voice, not nearly so small or still, jumps up yelling, 'Marigold! You can stay here and philosophize all you want, but I'm gettin' the hay outta' here!!!' Well, now, these would be examples of your Inner Goat at work.

Some might refer to the Inner Goat as mere 'in-tuition', but honestly, I can't say as I've ever had to pay it anything. Although I suppose you could count paying attention. That seems to be a necessity since, if you don't, you are certainly going to hear about it again on some level. At any rate, you understand that the Inner Goat can be likened to that 'gut' feeling that people get and often ignore. I said people often ignore. Goats never ignore 'gut feelings'. Believe me, when you have four stomachs, that's just the way it is.

So how does one learn to access the Inner Goat? Meditation. That is the key. Your mind is a blank slate save for the ever-present image of a lone, exquisite Peanut. Soon the Inner Goat begins to surface and you are free to channel it's wisdom. The Universe is yours. The Peanuts are yours!

Okay, so it pays to channel your Inner Goat. Be aware, be guided by and attend to that annoying little voice. Own it. Name it. (How about Edna? Frank???) Chew your cud in contemplation and take note when that voice speaks to you. It might just prove to be worthwhile.

Post Script: If the voice tells you to do bad stuff, ignore it. You are no longer channeling your Inner Goat, but have somehow managed to tap into the Twilight Zone. It means you have used the key of imagination rather than the key of meditation, and you are about to enter into another dimension, a dimension of sight, of sound ... Oh, for Edna's sake! Just tell it to pipe down.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

The Rambling Revenant

As you may remember, last October my friend, The Little UnDead, went on a pilgrimage to Forks to visit various sights featured in the book, Twilight, about a teenage girl, Bella Swan, who falls in love with a vampire, Edward Cullen. In case you have forgotten, you can refresh your memory here. Anyway, ever since then, The Diminutive Deceased One has been whining about going on another vacation. Goatness knows nobody here has been interested in catering to his whims, so recently our good friend, Lisa, over at Pink Porches, girded her loins and invited The Short and UnImportant for a visit to Maine. Maine, you ask? Really? Isn't that clear across the United States? Well, yes, it is, but you have to understand that this destination held a particular interest for the Little UnAnimated One.

Now, look at the picture below. What is this, you ask? Well, my friends, this is none other than the Bangor, Maine residence of the renowned author, Stephen King. Yes, that would be the Stephen King, a long-time idol of The Dinky and Dull. Naturally you are probably having a bit of difficulty locating his tiny green presence in this picture, but he is over to the right on the gate.

Can you see him now??? Pathetic isn't it?

Anyway, Lisa, being the kind hostess she is, next catered to The Paltry Peasant's flights of fancy by taking him to the Mount Hope Cemetery. What the hay is that, you ask? Well, The Mount Hope Cemetery was the site of filming for the 1989 movie, Pet Sematary, based on the Stephen King novel by the same name.

Honestly, the Mount Hope Cemetery is on the National Register of Historic Places, not because Pet Sematary was filmed there, but because it is the second oldest garden cemetery in America. As The Petite Punk flew over, he was awed by the serene beauty he encountered. I'm awed he managed to make the flight without taking a nose dive.

You will be glad to know that he did not encounter any recently reanimated zombie-like children, unless, of course, you count the one below. Even though this child constantly kept inviting him over the threshold, try as he might, he could never manage to get in - or even get her to strike up a casual conversation. I suppose reanimation isn't all it's cracked up to be. No doubt one stands to lose a few brain cells in the process. At any rate, The Little Cadaverous Clout decided against going on up through the forest to the ancient Indian burial ground. No use taking chances I always say, even if one is already life-challenged.

Next, The Little InSignificant Expired went on to view the grave of gangster, Al Brady. He wasn't in a talking mood either, so The Tiny and Torpid moved on to the Mausoleum. The doors were locked, however, and try as he might, no one would invite him across the threshold this time. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed - or, ahem, coffin.

So after the consummate failures at the cemetery, Lisa felt sorry for The Small and Stagnant and took him to see the giant statue of Paul Bunyan featured in the Stephen King novel, 'It'. See him down there at Paul's feet?

Here. This ought to give you a little better sense of Paul's size. He is 31 feet high and weighs 3,700 pounds! Wow. That has to be about as much as Boo. I think The Shrimpy and Stiff was a bit staggered by the sheer size of this mammoth, not to mention just a little apprehensive that if he sat there very long Paul might again become possessed and attack him. Sheesh. The things some people worry about. It's not like he could ram you from behind like Ella.

In the end, though, The Little UnderSized and UnResponsive found the perfect place to take a rest after such an exciting day of adventure. Who knew he'd have to go all the way to Maine to find it?

We would like to extend our most heartfelt thanks to Lisa for being brave enough and kind enough to take The Little Verdant Vampire off our hands for awhile. Believe me it was as much a vacation for us as it was for him. Besides, you know what they say, " Kindness is like snow - it beautifies everything it covers." So, Lisa, this makes you a VERY beautiful person in our eyes!