Getting the Mega-Paddle [day in, day out]


“What does one do with so much time on his hands?”

Sreejinn noted Jeb’s query with assiduousness and replied, “Every time I come out of hiding and enter into a new civilization … I come in and I take note of the fabric of the times… the collective thinking of the country I’m in and so on…”

“What?” Jeb is thinking. “Is it that he lives in some cave and comes out every now and then?”

Sreejinn suddenly paused his train of thought, and said, “I know what you might be thinking,” as he looked at Jeb with that ‘knowing’ look. “I can’t really read your mind, don’t worry, that wouldn’t be fair. But I can guess at what you are thinking. Yes, I do live in caves at times, to pass the time. Actually I sort of withdraw myself within, like a tortoise pulls his limbs within his shell. I metamorphose into a chrysalis state, and meditate for indefinite lengths of time until I come out again for more adventures in this world composed of lights and shadows reflected on the wall.


“Whenever I enter a new civilization, I always study the history, go to libraries and read everything there, or I go and talk to the people, usually to the common people in bars or parks. Or, I find the intelligentsia in the coffee shops or bookstores, and I extract from them what is in the collective consciousness. I listen in length to how people talk, and often I see it’s an imitation of their heroes in the theaters or the movies. Sometimes, sigh, I listen to talk radio, since they exist in modern times, or watch the boobie, to get a grasp of the collective consciousness.

“There is one peculiar obsession of your modern western civilization, which I found to be an odd fixation in the collective mind. They have such a predilection for this word that rhymes with truck. They seem to use the word for every kind of description of actions and objects, or a so-called hip way of communication. This is especially true in the working class, when they stand around on break, or when they go to some bar, or anytime men get together.


“Now, what is the reason why your people are so obsessed with this effin word?”

Jeb hunches his shoulders in an ‘idunno’ expression, and then offered this suggestion, “maybe it’s from reading too many Stephen King novels.”

“Could be,” said Sreejinn. He paused, as mirth twinkled in his blue eyes. “Another big reason is that people think movie stars are gods, and whatever they say or do is chic. The media and magazine constantly broadcast the glories of sex and the effin word, which indicates such a life style. The word reminds them of passion, and since they think that union with a lass is the ultimate goal of life, the word is very dear to them, yet ironically they cannot have more carnal acts than the pigeons, and the fact that such unions are short-lived, usually brief encounters, then perhaps they think that saying the effin word gives some kind of substitute for the large periods of time waiting between the acts of passion, as if thinking it makes it so, indeed, if they are allowed to have any such pleasure at all. Therefore they frequently say the blankety word to fill in the vacuum.


“The word has a dual meaning. It means to have pleasure in the act of love or lust or both. And secondly, it means to inflict damage or hurt to oneself or others, or more other shades of nefarious meanings, such as to fall into deep illusion, to be duped, to be greatly mistaken, and so on.

“So everyone wants that pleasure, fleeting as it is, the first meaning of the effin word, and they say the word often to remind them of the pleasure. But ironically, alas, it seems that at a subconscious level, they know the 2nd meaning of the word is being foisted upon them, moment after moment. Thus, constant repetition of the effin word is a subliminal reminder to the chanter, that he or she is getting the royal shaft from the great cosmic arrangement of punitive justice, or persons whom the chanter had shafted in a previous time, in a previous life, and are now meting out punishment.


“He knows he’s getting the mega-paddle day in and day out, and his chanting effin this, and effin that, simply confirms the fact, in his dilettantish psyche, the naked reality of his perpetual punishment at the hands of an unrelenting taskmaster, momento after momento.”


Recommended blogs:

Catterwaul cuts the crap –
Is it Pinkish? –
Willy Wanko –
Tolkien in Hinterland –
Mandates of the night sky –
Rory chap 5 father time –
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third –
Telling the Gents What to Do –
Winter of my Soul-
Teleporting Across the Ocean-



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