Cold Showers can cool your beer!

Heat is overrated. Occasionally in the course of human adventurism (a.k.a. life) one may find oneself without any heat producing appliances, and at the same time find oneself without any cold producing appliances. You may think at this point that you must accept luke warm, tepid temperatures. Wrong again jerknuts! I have discovered that if you use hot water when the water heater is off, the water that emerges is amazingly cold. I also found that the water that emerges from the cold water tap is actually luke warm. Hence, one can shower with cold water that feels okay, and use the "hot water" to cool one's beer below room temperature.

Sometimes when I shower, the cold water actually takes my breath away. (I always think of Goose when this happens. GOOSE!)
No really, I get so violently pumped up trying remain under the cold stream that I forget to exhale. Then I laugh and let out a couple of WOOs!

Things in my life are almost as uproarious as the funny comic to the left. I think this comic is funny, but for all the wrong reasons. The complete lack of comedy in It leads me to suspect that Hagen (the artist) is retarded. The idea of a retard drawing a witty little picture makes me really happy. I mean, what is the punch line supposed to be? When the Penguin says the word "Rats" and then explains the drawing? This is a punch line?
Thanks Hagen.

The French Quarter

I went down to the Quarter last night in order to drink a Mint Julep. I was excited as hell to have this, my favorite of the amazing drinks served at Pat O'Briens. If you look at the picture it is the one on the far left. It is just sitting there, a big glass of ice-y bourbon, content in its own goodness. People say a lot of negative things about Pat Obriens. About how it is a tourist trap, about how it's too expensive, and too corporate. I spit on those kind of people. Patty O's make the best drinks. Patty O's has a fountain with fire! Patty O's is closed.

Yeah. I couldn't believe it. Pat O'Briens is closed. I was in shock. This is what happens when the guy behind the curtain is a corporation and he won't make me my favorite drink. I don't know what to think. On the one hand, I now have reason to hate Pat O'Briens. They sold New Orleans out! What the hell! They can't open up even a tiny stand to sell some hurricanes? All the locally owned bars are open (except the ones who closed never to return). If Pat's wasn't a goddamn franchise they would be open!

And that brings me to the other hand. I don't know why they are closed. Maybe they have good a reason. I don't know. I do know why I want them to be open: The place IS better than the locally owned bars on Bourbon. It's classy. They have Irish bartenders.

I went across the street and got a mint julep at a club that had a big wooden mint julep sign on the front. The mint julep was all tonic water! Nothing to put hair on one's chest, no sweet burn to counter the cool mint, no glass of bourbon. It was, all in all, a stupid drink.

The quarter is different now. There really are a lot of Mexicans, or Latinos (as I call them) drinking in the bars down there now a days. There weren't all that many before. I don't mean that this is a bad thing. It is just different. Also, now in most parts of downtown there is a cool flood mark that lines every building. The filthy stain reminds all of the devastation god wrecked on this town back in its sinful days. Now that the sin has been cleansed the titty bars are back in business! Last, but not least, there are new funny shirts to be bought on Bourbon St.
Such as:
FEMA
Federal Employees Missing Again.

and
New Orleans
Bagdad on the Bayou!

These shirts!
HA HA HA HA HEE HEE
WOOOO! WOOOO! WOOOO! AAAOOOOGA! AAAOOOOOGA!

The free man thinks of nothing less than of death, and his wisdom is a meditation on life, not on death. -Spinoza

A running start
beneath the faucet,
Monty's hall is right.
The left remains,
Living shoots
that kill the wary.

Fuck the moon
and all that follows.
bloody hands
bearded eyes
the river is fallow

A feel good story about Golani

Click on title to read said story.
I like it because all the cool dudes pictured are packing the gun I used, while all the nancy boys with the short M-16s are holding hands. Compare: On the left; a bad ass man. On the right; men who want man ass bad.

You see Shuky? Finally proof that you are a Nancy Boy.
Glad you like the site.

For everyone else, do not worry. Professor Passion will return with the tales that drive you wild! For my next idea in fact, I was thinking of posting a picture of a dead Yak!

Even the EAGLE OF FREEDOM gets DOWN

I apologize for all the erotic animal images. I do not mean turn this blog into a porn fest. Or do I?
No, I don't.
But c'mon. Eagles humping? Thats funny.

The Circle of Life...in Wolf Form

Yeah. It makes me sad too.

Masya ben Charash said: Initiate a greeting to every person; and be a tail to lions, rather than a head to foxes.

Translation: Be polite to everyone. And it is better to be a follower of the truly great, than a leader of the common.

I am still unclear about his take on gorilla munch

The Return Home

I have lost nothing. I returned home to New Orleans and found my home miraculously intact. While others only one street down have nothing but mold and memories, I have books and treasure. Through my window I can a house that a tree smashed through it but my only damage is having to take cold showers (the only gas on my street comes from my ass). Perhaps hurricanes are real, but they still can't touch the Professor of Passion or his shit. So enamored I am with the wanton destruction displayed in this city, that I have decided to stay and take part in its rebirth. There is beer, there is electricity, and there is a palpable desperation to rebuild.

The trolley line is jacked and dirt has swallowed the tracks. Refrigerators stand stinking in the center of every median and along the sidewalks of the smaller streets. Sometimes it really stinks. The air is filthy. Houses are rotten, and trees and glass are shattered everywhere. But the city has the same feel that I get in Israel: The population is uncertain that the town they live in will even exist in a few years, and everyone considers their luxuries (running water, power, beer, etc) to be uncertain. I like seeing military vehicles drive up and down neighborhood streets, and I like desolate main roads. I feel excited when I see an open business, or restaurant (the bike store and The Boot have opened), and the people are legitimately interested in each other-- everyone wants to hear how each other got out, whether they plan to stay, what they think is going happen to the city, and so on. It feels so much like Israel in that even the trivial polite talk usually concerns something vitally important rather than the inanity of weather or gas prices (if a conversation is so dull as to turn to the weather it concerns the bad ass hurricane brewing down near Florida).
I hope this town comes back. But even if it fails to, it is still beautiful in its decayed state. I don't want to miss the chance to witness either it's renaissance or it's complete collapse. For those of you looking for some spicy adventure, this is the place.

Land of Robots

I saw something grand last night. Something GRAND! This guy must of had his voice box removed or something, because in order to speak he had to place what looked like an electric shaver to his throat! He enunciated passionately but the voice that emerged was a disinterested and calm robot. It was so cool. He gestures like he really means it, but all that comes out it is this quiet robot voice. I was so happy. What made me even happier is knowing that no matter how facinating it is to watch this guy speak, it is considered rude to laugh and clap at him. Holy shit, It was delightful!

My nephew and poop

I have been hanging out with my my four year old nephew. We've been catching bugs, riding bikes, and building sand castles. Sometimes while digging around the sandbox my nephew will ask me if the dirt clod he is holding is poop.
What a profound question!
"Is this poop?"
So far, my answer has always been in the negative. "No, thats not poop, its just dried mud". I wonder what the import would be if my nephew heard a positive answer. "Yes, my friend, that is indeed a piece of poop that you have clenched in your hand." What then? Would he throw the poop in disgust? Examine it with interest? I am eager to lay a steamer in his sandbox in order to find out.