Aww you’re so sweet. I wish old boyfriends were that sweet. Now read my stuff damnit

I wrote this last Christmas on blogspot. I now bring it to Tumblr!

If the name, Ebenezer Scrooge, doesn’t ring a bell, there’s a good chance you‘ve started sentences with, In Mother Russia we… After watching A Christmas Carol for the first time since I was younger, I feel there’s more to the story than spirits and happy endings. My theory is the spirits were actually a literary allusion for the self-realization one can achieve on a psychedelic like mushrooms. While it may sound crazy for people squeamish around the word “drugs,” having taken a few psychedelic journeys makes me feel otherwise. Here are theories others have come up with on the Dickens’ classic after sifting through the ever so reliable, “Wikipedia.”

*side note* I originally wrote this in December 2011. A month after writing it a Professor by the name of David Nutt, said Psychedelic Mushrooms can be used to treat depression. This little Joe may not be so off with his theory! http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504763_162-57364710-10391704/magic-mushrooms-may-help-treat-depression-how/

New York Times article on mushrooms helping cancer patients http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/12/science/12psychedelics.html?pagewanted=print

• There are some who feel the story was inspired by political economist, Thomas Malthus. I wish I could convey a better description of his ideas but I can’t understand anything people wrote pre-1800’s. What I deciphered from his drivel was he didn’t like a big population and people should die so there’s more food for yuppies like him. It’s the entitled version of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution.

• Scrooge was based off of England’s first millionaire, Jeremy Wood —who was kind of a dick.

• Scrooge was also based off, John Leech —another British dick.

I hope to add Olivia Warhol’s, Psychedelic “Christmas Carol” Theory to that list.

• Jacob Marley & “The Ghost of Christmas Past” synopsis for Communists:

On Christmas Eve, Scrooge was met by the ghost of his former business partner, Jacob Marley. Marley introduced himself to his old friend by taking the place of his door knob, having his face appear in Scrooge’s fire place —like all the times the Virgin Mary hung out on croutons— and topped it all off by making every possible thing that can make noise in Scrooge‘s house, go off. After messing with him —as a good friend should— Marley warns Scrooge of the three ghosts who will be visiting him that night.

When Marley disappears, Scrooge is met with the Ghost of Christmas Past. (Jiminy Cricket for those of us whose parents put on Disney movies because they didn’t feel like raising us so they can salvage a sex life.) The illustrious lady-boy spirit brought Ebenezer back to simpler times; first as a sad boy who stayed at his boarding school instead of going home for Christmas. The next image was of Scrooge’s Chasing Amy moment, as he let the love of his life go to another man because he was a stingy prick.

• The “Mushroom Theory,” as it pertains to Jacob Marley & “The Ghost of Christmas Past”:

Scrooge is hesitant to believe the spirit of Marley is real and thinks it‘s a hallucination due to food poisoning when he says You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are! A common misconception of Psilocybin Mushrooms is the hallucinations are brought upon by food poisoning. We’re not all, Terrence Mckenna or Joe Rogan, so it makes sense to think that. One of the first things to happen after you ingest the mushrooms is nausea. If the story was based off mushrooms, maybe this is what Dickey was getting at when Scrooge blamed seeing Jacob Marley, on food poisoning. What actually happens is the psilocybin is broken down to psilocin. The psilocin swims up your blood stream and once it hits your brain, it has a little fun with the neurotransmitter receptors. In other words, shit goes down.

This is your brain

This is mushrooms

This is your brain on mushrooms

Right before the peak all your senses are heightened and every basic detail of your surroundings jump out at you. When Marley brought the muthafuckin’ ruckus in Scrooge’s house —like a Wu-Tang killer bee swarmin‘— and the Tranny spirit brought him to his past, it reminded me of my first time taking mushrooms. I was sitting under a tree in the middle of a field at sundown. I paid attention to grass for the first time in my Long Island career. Every individual blade stood out and I saw patterns in the grass I never would’ve noticed in a state of sobriety. It sounds hippyish, but on mushrooms it really hits you how much you don’t pay attention to your everyday surroundings. I was even able to distinguish the size of each individual blade which was the most amazing part because I have shit eye sight.

The grass patterns reminded me of Scrooge seeing Marley’s face in the fire. I can imagine he never paid attention to a lit fireplace and even if he did, there’s certain patterns dancing around in the flames he never would’ve noticed without the help of a psychedelic. Under the tree, I heard all the birds above me singing at once. With my psychedelia senses tingling —like I was Peter Parker with the Hob Goblin around the corner— I was able to differentiate each bird’s melody. Without my magical fungi, for sure all the tweet-tweeting the birds did would drown together as one loud noise. Maybe there was no ghost setting off his cookoo-clocks but him just being able to pay extra close attention to every noise in his house due to a fungal sponsored spider-sense session.

The heightened senses are as mental as they are physical. The awareness of all your insecurities is way more powerful than any hallucination. If you’re sad, you’ll probably cry. If you’re happy, then you’ll be in love with everything around you. I don’t think Scrooge actually traveled in time to view his past, but instead remembered the roots of his arrogance which stemmed from a troubled childhood. There isn’t a child alive who wouldn’t feel abandoned if their family sent them away instead of loving them at home. As for remembering the one who got away, I too dealt with the realization of my own Chasing Amy. I acted out against someone who cared for me in a way nobody still has come close to. Mushrooms put all ego aside and made me realize the twatiness of my actions. I spent a year holding a grudge when really, I should’ve stopped being a 21 year old Chuckie Finster, and grew the fuck up. I’m talking OG Chuckie Finster, by the way. None of that, Rugrats: All Grown Up, bullshit.

• The “Ghost of Christmas Present,” synopsis for Communists:

It’s a little known fact before Hagrid sold out to “Warner Brothers,” he was the Ghost Of Christmas Present. Haggy shows Scrooge how his atrocious attitude affects those around him. Using the invisibility cloak to hide them, Hagrid brings Scrooge to the home of Bob Cratchit and his family as they ate Christmas dinner. Bob gave thanks to his employer for giving him a job while his wife attacks Scrooge’s. During the arguing, the adorable Tiny Tim happily sits at the table while he slowly disintegrates from a disease we probably have shots for now.

Next Hagrid brings Scrooge to the home of his nephew. His nephew, nephew’s wife and guests also lay siege on Scrooge’s Biff Tannen, like attitude. After Scrooge sits through another trashing, Hagrid yells Delorious Michael J Foxus, and transports them to a shanty part of town. Miles away from civilization, Haggy lifts his robe and reveals two sickly children.

• The “Mushroom Theory,” as it pertains to the “Ghost of Christmas Past”:

Hagrid Sandusky tells Scrooge the children represent, Ignorance and Want. He warns Scrooge that unless he changes his dick head ways, the world around him will collapse.

*side note* I’m not sure why he needed the children to convey his point. You see a lot of weird things on mushrooms which make complete sense at the time but when you’re back in a state of sobriety, you realize it was nonsense.

This brings me back to the self-realization thing I keep talking about. I don’t think Scrooge magically appeared in places to hear people say terrible things about him, but instead became aware of how lousy of a person he was. After realizing how cheap he’s been, it only makes sense he came to the conclusion that it’ll be his fault Tiny Tim would die unless he gave Bob Cratchit some of that paper, yo.

• The “Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come” synopsis for Communists:

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, is every incarnation of death you’ve seen with the black robe and all the poise of Kurt Loder. Without uttering a word, he shows Scrooge the dark future ahead of him after his death. Every person Scrooge passes by shows little respect to the fact he’s dead. He hears three wealthy men lambaste him and walks in to a room where his belongings are being pawned off. Scrooge is then brought to the home of the Cratchit family as they mourn Tiny Tim’s death. The Disney version depicts the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, the best. In the original movie, Scrooge became aware he needed to change his ways by simply seeing his own grave. Disney takes it to a whole ’nother level, son. The scene takes place in a cemetery with Scrooge, played by Scrooge McDuck, and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, played by Black Pete.

With a sinister laugh, Pete, tells McDuck he’s the richest person in the cemetery and knocks him in to his own grave. As Scrooge McDuck struggles out of the grave, the pits of hell open from under him and he pleads for salvation. Find me a current Disney movie which makes Ozzy proud.

• The “Mushroom Theory,” as it pertains to the “Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come”:

Scrooge crying out in agony is exactly what a bad trip would look like from inside the psychedelia universe. It all makes sense to the person tripping but for everyone on the outside, they’ll see a person in terror muttering things that don’t make sense. The last time I tripped was so excruciating, I blacked out for most of it. What I do remember is having two streams of thought; one desperately trying to figure out whether I existed and the other absolutely sure I wasn’t real. Also, I haven’t always been the best older brother in the world. In between debating my existence, I remember yelling out my sister’s name. I blame the reason for my bad trip on the song Time To Pretend by MGMT. That is not the song to listen to with family issues.

I’ll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms

I’ll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world

I’ll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home

Yeah, I’ll miss the boredem and the freedom and the time spent alone

My issues with family are basic, but mushrooms have a way of blowing everything out of proportion so you learn a lesson.

• The “Happy Ending,“ synopsis for Communists:

After Scrooge claws at his own grave in redemption, he finds himself Delorious Michael J Foxus’d, to his bed. Scrooge was a changed man after seeing the events the spirits walked him through. That morning he mended the relationship with his nephew, bought the Cratchits their Christmas dinner and finally gave Bob Cratchit that raise. Scrooge’s happy ending could only be ruined by Marvel Comics creating a What If, issue of him continuing to be a dick and how it would affect Christmas Carol Earth: 616.

That fateful, mushroomy night when my trip died down I felt like a new person. I mended a relationship with someone I shouldn’t have wasted so much time hating. It’s nice to get that type of negativity off your shoulders. Post-mushrooms is probably my favorite part of the whole trip because after that insane journey in to your mind which is Indianna Jones in the Temple of Doom x 1,000,000,000,002 —it’s nice to just relax. I realized all those tiny problems and insecurities were way too insignificant to even think of anymore.

For these holidays, take a shroomy and let everyone know you love them. Make Tiny Tim proud.

When I saw a picture of a girl getting eaten out in a black and white aerial view I realized, maybe Tumblr was the right place for me all along.I used to attack this site but when you break it all down, it’s trippy pictures, people with witless wit and slutty girls. Who was I to judge when this is the 1’s and 0’s equivalent of a college party? While I don’t think the girl getting eaten out in black and white is art, at least it’s a picture of a girl getting eaten out. Free speech, son. We should all be able to do and say whatever we want even if it’s something deviant.

*side note* The exception being physical harm like slavery, pedophilia and killing.

The great Patrice O’ Neal put free speech best in terms of comedy:

Funny jokes and unfunny jokes come out of the same birth. You don’t know if anything is gonna be funny but you should attempt to be able to make anything funny.

*even more on the side note* In the same interview he also said Ejaculate in her eye, kick her in the shin, *covers eye* and she walks around like arrrgh. It’s the angry pirate. Patrice rules.

When we can’t post pictures of a girl getting her pussy eaten that’s when we should be worried.

Off the top of my head I know six people who deserved to have their work revered after their death; George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Patrice O’ Neal, Kurt Cobain, Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Hunter S. Thompson. We’re a weird species because we’ll constantly put a person down while they’re alive but once they’re dead, everyone is afraid to say something bad about them. You have to do Hitler level awful things before people feel comfortable talking shit about you once you pass. In 2010, Alexis Pilkington, a girl who lived a few towns away from me died when she was either 17 or 18. This girl had two different Facebook fan pages dedicated to her with over 1,000 likes. During the time of her passing people kept quoting her on every form of social media. Her quote, Give everything but up, became the Long Island version of every lyric in Imagine. A typical comment on her fan pages consisted of:

“Excuse My french. But whoever pushed this girl to take her life should be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Those Pathetic fucks need to be imprisoned for murder. Not just get a slap on the wrist…. I hate bullying. And She was so pretty. Freaking HATERS. Condolences to the Family.”

Excuse my french is the way unfunny people let everyone around them know they’re about to mean business; cover the kids ears. I wish I were witty enough to think of this all by myself but this was an actual post. I’m not trying to downplay her death because it was a real tragedy but it got me thinking; if I die young from some aidsy, cancerish non-hodgkin’s lymphoma, I need to write a lot so people play up my death even more. This is how much of a phony I am. I love to write but I know it doesn’t matter what I write. As long as it isn’t blatant racism and I die before 30, everything I composed will be gold.

I’ll eventually write about masturbation. Do you know how awesome it will be if someone is searching through my stuff thinking they’re getting something of substance only to find a title The Benefits Of Drilldo Masturbation For Your Benefit. It won’t be all mushrooms and jerking off. I’ll write deep stuff too when I feel like taking myself seriously. I want them to take something I wrote about love to heart then make them feel bad about themselves when they read something about jerking off. It’s like when I listen to some Lennon songs. I’m supposed to recognize Woman Is The Nigger Of The World as sheer brilliance but I’d rather not come to terms with the fact John was probably being an asshole. This white dude got away with saying nigger and you know he got off on that. I don’t want to think that though because he’s a dead Beatle. I’m supposed to show respect. I’ll never be a Beatle but dead is something I know I can pull off. (No, I’m not going to kill myself. Everyone is able to pull off death better than most things in life.) I want people to see that dildo post and go damn, this is retarded but I don’t want to say anything. Most people’s egos don’t allow them to say stuff like that because they feel the need to respect the dead. And yes, I did compare my possible death to a Beatle. I’m the author and can make any combination of words form in to a story any way I want.

How great would it be if something tragic were to happen to me sometime after I post this? I’m like prophetic because I called my own death. Didn’t Tupac do that? There’s guaranteed five people I know I can count on to get my nonsense out there just in case something bad goes down. Probably more during the early grieving stages when I come off as some great person. The best part is I’m not great. I’m a fan of masturbation and have a one night stand story that involves a girl crying over her socks. I’m just every other gal.

chin—chillen:

i remember i was buying tabs from some chick i never met before and so we’re texting each other meeting up at a gas station and she was like im here and i asked what car she drove and blah blah blah so i get out cuz i see her car and i open the door and get in and i start talking to her and shit…

Anybody whose anti-drug and listens to Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, The Doors, Nirvana, Pink Floyd and the Beatles, have to realize all those great bands —who continue to inspire artists today in all musical genres and different creative art forms— did massive amounts of psychedelics. I like how Wal-mart has a strict drug policy with their employees yet sell every album from these amazing artists. It’s cool to make money off of something which is heavily influenced by drugs but we can’t have Marv Rebinovich in electronics take a journey in to his soul off an eight of mushrooms. Anyway screw Wal-mart and god bless Marv. After this driveled intro, let’s now continue to my journey in to the world of psychedelia.

The peak of the trip is like listening to Pink Floyd’s, Dark Side Of The Moon, completely sober. A lot of stuff going on in that album doesn’t make sense. Why are there clocks, cash registers and a moaning black women mixed in with all these fabulous lyrics and guitar riffs? It’s odd that they’re in the song but without it, it’s like a puzzle missing it’s pieces. That’s the musical equivalent of the peak. As it’s going on, you’re wondering how something so elegantly mystifying can make no sense and complete sense at the same time.

The moments before the peak were the most powerful part of the trip. Beams of sunlight divinely graced the trees and all of nature around me. It was as if god was touching everything. I’m not sure what my religious beliefs are but god is the only thing I can equate the sun to in that moment. I started noticing every blade of grass individually. Each blade was it’s very own life form. No longer did it seem like one big field of green. For the first time I saw what seemed to be an army of individual life, powered by the sun and rain giving us the very air we need to survive. It’s amazing how overlooked something can be just because you see it everyday. My whole life I’ve walked on grass and for the first time I’m acknowledging it as a part of my life. We hold our phone close to us as if it’s another piece of our body yet grass is just something we step on to get across something. We can live without texting but we’d be completely screwed without the amazing power of chlorophyll. NO CASEY ANTHONY, NOT THE STUFF YOU USE TO KILL BABIES. THAT’S CHLOROFORM

I also felt the love of different family members. My uncle played an important role in my life and it was the first time I really thought about that since I was a child. It was a happy feeling but also sad one too because I’m growing up and I don’t get to see him as much. I felt the love of my parents and my sister. They are in my life everyday but I never stopped to think how much I care for them. Mushrooms stopped time and made me feel the love of everybody I’m close to —both friend and family. It made me realize my ego got in the way of a person I felt very connected with. The spooky part about the whole thing was this person texted me during the peak. I hadn’t heard from her in months. Was it something celestial or just a normal life occurence? Try wrapping your head around that while tripping balls.

*side note* My friend and I were talking about how perfect a girls breasts were a few minutes before that.

The peak is the part school warns you about. I wish I could write more about it but I don‘t remember too much. I do remember seeing the color white mixing in with my surroundings. What felt like hours was only minutes. I did a lot of sitting around during it. There wasn’t much else to do. I was essentially useless. You can’t do anything on that stuff. I guess you’re having a good trip when you’re bored. I got through all the feelings and lovey dovey stuff so quickly, I didn’t realize I should have left a little for the peak. I didn’t really hallucinate as much as I thought I would. Everything just felt pixilated like a jpg image blown up a thousand times the normal size.

When the clock struck 12, the peak turned in to the climax. It was an emotional ejaculation and I got it all over the place. Anybody who didn’t get emotionally jizzed on were hating only because they’re jealous. People do heroin or coke for a rush that never ends well. If you really want to do something, there are safer, trippier things which don’t have any negative long term effects. It was exactly a year ago and I remember this moment very fondly. I was able to feel love (How many times did I say love? WE GET IT) in a way I never would’ve if I listened to my DARE officer when he told me to just say no.

Oh my god, I love the shit out of this shirt.