Meeting Bill Pt. 2

“Ask your questions.”

“Questions?”

“You’ve been questioning”

I could feel it was him, though I hadn’t gathered the courage to open my eyes yet.

“How do you know?”

“The data shows it. We’ve observed your writings.”

“Oh.”

I wondered how they had made that observation, but knew that I wouldn’t be able to wrap my brain around the technology that could record such a thing. I locked doors, shut windows, drew blinds and kept my writings in a small fire-safe. The best explanation was interception of visual information as it travelled to the brain from the eyes. Then using a type of translator, they were able to observe what I was observing.

“Many of you question. But you don’t look for answers. We’ve observed a fear response to viable answers in you’re species.”

I thought about that statement for a few seconds, then, in usual fashion, waited. But there were no tests being performed, no extractions being done, no obervations being recorded.

I waited….

“Ask your questions”

I opened my eyes to the soft white light that immersed my nude body as I lay paralyzed on the table.

“Why do I have to be naked?” I asked.

“Our work is carried out more effectively and efficiently if your clothing isn’t on”

“I should tell my wife that one of these nights… ” I thought to myself. I chuckled. No sooner had that chuckle escaped me, than 5 grey beings surrounded me, took measurements, drew blood, and did other various tests that I couldn’t even speculate as to what the purpose of them were. As quicky as they came, they left, leaving only Bills presence.

“Ask your questions.”

He just wanted me to ask. I thought for a minute, wondering where I would start, if it matters what I asked, or if I should ask my questions in a certain order, one questions answers building up to another questions. I couldn’t quite decided, so I just blurted out my first, most obvious question, “Who are you?”

Meeting Bill. Pt1

Bill is a good enough guy. I don’t think it’s fair that humans judge him and his people so harshly. They aren’t demons, the are just trying to survive. I don’t think any being is beneath taking such drastic measure to save their own species and lineage.

I met Bill face to face for the first time while swimming in a blue beam of light. His face was expressionless, grey and lacking empathy. His large glassy black eyes reflected my own confusion and horror at my inconceivable situation, and that was about all of the emotion that would be mustered from that stone cold face. Swimming and churning in the light, which seemed to have the consistency of ultra low-density water, I felt like a fish in a large glass cylinder, viewing the sterile surroundings of inexplicable form and incomprehensible technology. Then Bill nudged my arm and all went black and silent. That is about all I can recollect of our first encounter.

Though that was the first memory of our meeting, it certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, there are several hazy, dreamlike memories that follow that first meeting. Each time, Bill was there to observe and to analyze my every atom. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t degrading. I don’t remember any rectal exams, though it’s more than likely since they rarely ever did this to women, and I was a man. It was mainly the men that were the subjects of this particular practice. It wasn’t the anus or the rectum that interested them, it was the prostate, along with its fluids.

Bill looked very similar to the rest of his kind. I only recognized him by his presence. It’s not explainable, and it’s not a feeling. Its just a knowing that this entity was around. No words were ever exchange, just impressions. Clear, concise impressions.

This is why Bill was know to me as “Bill.” He had no name, just presence. I had to call him something since I couldn’t comprehend identifying a being by their presence alone and had to give him a mark. He understood this and so he sent me the impression that, in order to more effectively study me, he had to accomodate my level of comprehension. Therefore, he gave me the name Bill to attached to his identity. Why he chose Bill, I don’t know. But I’m sure his was decision was based on generations of statistics and the most sound of reasoning.

His presence would be known sparsely through the next 7 years of my life. Just a patchwork of hazy memories and impressions. A flash here and there of bright lights, quiet humming and being meticulously observed while lying down.

During this time, I quietly questioned why I was the subject of such meticulous scrutiny, never revealing my experience to anyone. Some nights, I wouldn’t sleep, trying to remember just what happened whenever Bill was present, and to glean as many details as I could gather from my malfunctioning memory. The experiences after the first meeting never roused any emotion in me, and that is what was so horrifying. To not feel during such an incredible experience, but to simply be there, observing being observed. A human must have an emotional response to his experience to make any value judgements on whether what has happened was good or bad, right or wrong, happy or sad etc. These emotional responses just weren’t there during the observations and statistic collecting. I was the subject of a most rational of projects, and that was only thing that mattered.

It troubled me that, even though I should have been outraged by being treated like a lab animal, fearful and resistant, I wasn’t. Those emotions came after the fact, when the observation was done. I couldn’t fathom what was happening to me, and if what I had experienced was even real. It became a huge burden to bear.

I began to write everything down as I remembered it. I began to write down the questions I had, and to try to come to some sort of conclusion. My biggest question though, oddly enough, was “Who is Bill?”

Dropped a few marbles again

Having to sort out what all of this is about is driving me to the brink of a type of madness. I like to delve into metaphysics, the paranormal, and the things that don’t appear. I like to ponder human behavior and try to make sense of why people do the things they do.

It’s like falling into an infinite expansivness and I’ll never find a destination. One fork in the road leads to another road with infinite divergences. Pick one and make your next infinite choice with infinite outcomes. It’s not over. It’s never over. There is no point b. There is always point next, destination infinity.

So I’m not doing so well holding onto this idea that at some point in my existence I’ll be “somewhere”. There is nowhere but here. And I think I’m slowly deteriorating into a little insanity. I can’t fathom reality anymore.

Why old guys dig young chicks.

On facebook, someone asked the question “Why do men need to be seen with woman that are young enough to be their grandaughters?”.

I will tell you why.

We don’t need to be seen with younger women, we LIKE younger women. Despite what you hear, like the myth that we are only trying to prove we can still attract younger women, that we are less mature than women and thus need to find women that equal our emotional maturity, it’s simple. Younger women look better. They feel better. They excite us more.

My man Solomon, back in the days the Old Testement, had a nice collection of young broads. Over 300 from what we are told. He knew, as with all things, that every few years, you had to upgrade. He’d see that the current wives were getting some mileage on them, and knew that it was time to upgrade to the newest, hottest model. To his credit, he kept the the previous wives because he knew that there were times where nothing beats a ride in a classic, and nostalgia is important to a man.

From the time we are teenagers, we have become hardwired to seek out firm young tail. That is part of being a man. We NEVER outgrow it. We know what we like, and we aren’t ashamed.

When a man tells you of his first car, he will ALWAY include the women who drove in that car with him. Women, particularly young women, remind us of our glory days. The days when chicks dug us, and they were dumb enough to fall for our stupid lines and bullcrap.

The mature woman is just too much work, and far too smart for us. They have expectations of us, they want commitment, our best lines don’t work, and they are very difficult to impress. Why, I remember when all it took was dropping some spare change into the “Make a Wish Foundation” jar at 7-11 and the chick would be eating out of my hands!

As they get older, they gain a sense of self and realize that they really don’t ‘need’ a man. Sure, they’ll keep us around when they need money, someone to watch the kids, or a shoulder to cry on, but when it comes down to it, they’d be fine on their own, in fact, in someways, better off.

What man in their right mind wants that kind of complication? We’re not wired for complexities. We just want some hot hieny to tell us we are wonderful and be ready and willing to get it on at any give moment.

It’s not difficult to understand. It’s just nature’s way of being sure the species is progressing, evolving and replenishing.

And that’s the straight story.

10 ways to embarrass a 12 year old boy.

A few weekends ago, I had my 12 year old boy slumped down in the backseat of my Xterra, shirt pulled up over his head. It gave me an idea. Today’s top 10 is 10 ways to embarrass a 12 year old boy.

10. Wear the same clothes you had when you were his age.

9. Put a water balloon in your front pocket, keep a pin in your hand. When his friends come to the door, act really nervous, almost speechless then put your hand your pocket, with the pin, then pop the balloon. Then look down at your crotch in amazement, burst out into tears and yell your wifes name. Then say “Noo – daddy scared, did wee wee’s again!!”

8. At the stop light, look around to see if you’ve pulled up to any girls around his age. If you have, honk the horn to draw their attention, then shove your finger up your nostril. GO DEEP! you have to make it look convincing.

7. This one takes some preparation. Make a large lunch bag, then write his name in large letters on it. When you take him to school, let him get out, head toward the front door. Then after a few seconds, jump out of the car, with the bag and yell… “ZACHARY!! ZACHARY!! YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH! MOM WAS SURE TO PUT SOME EXTRA PRUNES TO HELP YOUR CONSTIPATION, AND WE HAVE THE OINTMENT FOR THAT RASH! IT’S IN THE BAG!”

6. If you’re in the mall, keep your zipper down, but a long shirt over the open zipper. When some kids his age walk by, Pull your shirt up, look down and exclaim ‘WHOA HO HO, the gate is open but the beast is asleep, eh son??!!” Then zip up your zipper.

5. Before you drop him off at a party, smear tons of Ben Gay on your body. Then, when dropping him off, walk him to the door and introduce yourself to all of his friends. If anyone asks why you smell like Ben Gay, just say something like, “Oh I strained myself teaching Zachary how to Polka last night. He’s quite talented, you know.”

4. I recently put a subwoofer in my Xterra. Last saturday, I pumped up Weird Al’s “White and Nerdy”, slumped down in my seat, put my baseball hat on crooked and opened all the car windows, then drove slowly down Main Street during a busy time of day. That is why he was covering himself with a shirt.

3. Sneak a Hannah Montana sticker onto his backpack while he’s getting out of the car to get to school.

2. Steal his phone, then text all of his friends. Tell the girls that you know that he’s a handsome boy, but he’s not available for dating until he’s 16. Text yet others that Zachary had his phone taken away and that you are currently beating him for misbehaving.

1. Number one way to embarrass your 12 year old? Just be yourself. Works every time.

Dialog with Life

Life: Hey Brett, how have you been? Long time no speak… I haven’t heard much from you the past few years.

Brett: OH HEY LIFE!!! Man, you’re right it has been a while. I guess I haven’t been paying much attention of what has been going on of late have I?

Life: No, not really… I’ve been passing you by and you don’t seem to notice. Are you mad at me or something? We used to have a great relationship. I just was kinda wondering what happened or was it something I did? I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to hang out and stuff…

Brett:(interrupting)… NO NO no, Life, it’s not you, man I love you, you know that… we’ve always been tight. No… I don’t know, it’s just that the way that I’ve been thinking and doing don’t really have much to do with you, you know? I mean, why would the awesome ‘Lifester’ want to be hanging out in my inactive, boring world. I’ve just kinda fell out of what was going on… To be honest, I’ve been thinking of you a lot of late…

Life:(relieved and flattered) OH really?? awesome, you don’t know how glad that makes me.. I’ve missed you man, (reaches out to embrace Brett)

Brett:(returning the embrace and in a choked whisper) I’ve missed you too buddy.

Life: What do you say you and I go grab something to eat, I’m buying…

Brett: Sounds good… Hey, you ever work out the reason my boss hates you so much?

Life: Nah, but I don’t like him either. That’s why I kick him in the nuts every chance I get..