The Hills are Alive

The Hills of
Transylvania

Bob Hill and his new wife, Betty, are vacationing
in
Europe; as it happens, in Transylvania.

They’re driving a rental car along a rather deserted
highway. It’s late, and raining very hard. Bob can
barely see 10 feet in front of the car.

Suddenly the car skids out of control! Bob attempts
to control the car, but to no avail. The car swerves
and smashes into a tree. Moments later, Bob shakes
his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looks over at the
passenger seat and sees his new wife unconscious,
with her head bleeding.

Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows
he has to carry her to the nearest phone.

Bob carefully picks his wife up and begins trudging
down the road. After a short while, he sees a light.
He heads towards the light, which is coming from an
old, large house. He approaches the door and
knocks.

A minute passes. A small, hunched man opens the
door. Bob immediately blurts, “Hello, my name is Bob
Hill, and this is my wife, Betty. We’ve been in a terrible
accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I
please use your phone??”

“I’m sorry,” replies the hunchback, “but we don’t have a
phone. My master is a doctor. Come in and I will get
him.”

Bob brings his wife in. An elegant man comes down the
stairs. “I’m afraid my assistant may have misled you. I
am not a medical doctor. I am a scientist. However, it is
many miles to the nearest clinic, and I have had basic
medical training. I will see what I can do. Igor, bring them
down to the laboratory.”

With that, Igor picks up Betty and carries her downstairs,
with Bob following closely. Igor places Betty on a table
in the lab. Bob collapses from exhaustion and his own
injuries; so Igor places Bob on an adjoining
table.

After a brief examination, Igor’s master looks worried.
“Things are serious, Igor. Prepare a
transfusion.”

Igor and his master work feverishly, but to no avail.
Bob and Betty Hill are no more.

The Hills’ deaths upsets Igor’s master greatly. Wearily,
he climbs the steps to his conservatory, which houses
his pipe organ. For it is here that he has always found
solace. He begins to play, and a stirring, almost haunting
melody fills the house.

Meanwhile, Igor is still in the lab tidying up. As the music
fills the lab, his eyes catch movement. He notices the
fingers on Betty Hill’s hand twitch.

Stunned, he watches as Bob’s arm begins to rise! He is
further amazed as Betty sits straight up! Unable to
contain himself, he dashes up the stairs to the conservatory.
He bursts in and shouts to his master:

(Don’t page down unless you have a strong
stomach…)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

You sure you want to know?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

O.K. You asked for it……
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.

“Master, Master!… The Hills are alive with the sound of
music!”

Would you like to receive weird humor on your Kindle?

Art Prints

Oh What a Knight

Oh What a
Knight!

There were three medieval kingdoms on the
shores of a lake.
There was an island in the middle of the lake, which the
kingdoms had been fighting over for years. Finally, the three
kings decided that they would send their knights out to do
battle, and the winner would take the island.

The night before the battle, the knights and their squires
pitched camp and readied themselves for the fight. The first
kingdom had 12 knights, and each knight had five squires, all of
whom were busily polishing armor, brushing horses, and cooking
food.

The second kingdom had 20 knights, and each knight had 10
squires. Everyone at that camp was also busy preparing for
battle.

At the camp of the third kingdom, there was only one
knight, with his squire. This squire took a large pot and hung
it from a looped rope in a tall tree. He busied himself
preparing the meal, while the knight polished his own armor.

When the hour of the battle came, the three kingdoms sent their
squires out to fight (this was too trivial a matter for the
knights to join in). The battle raged, and when the dust
cleared, the only person left was the lone squire from the third
kingdom, having defeated the squires from the other two kingdoms,
thus proving that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal
to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

Get a chuckle on your Kindle.

Sell Art Online

Twin Flames Reuniting

Ever since  creation , we each have a twin flame. At the beginning of time,
we all began as one soul, however, the souls soon split in two equal
halves so more could be experienced, as well as the separate souls could
then experience separateness which was necessary so that when union
again became a reality, the soul would remember what it felt like to be
separate and appreciate being reunited with the totality of the two
halves.

From time immemorial , the soul has been longing to reunite with it’s
counterpart, this has been the cause of much frustration and discord in
the universe.

Many times the soul was aware of it’s counterpart and spent it’s whole
physical existence searching for it. Thus much marital discord followed
as a soul can never be fully satisfied until it rediscovers the one it
desires over all others.

 

In  the physical reality, you incarnate with a magnetic pull towards your
twin flame, the exact vibrational half of your soul. According to divine
plan, your soul divided and each half moved away from the other.  They
then traveled through the cosmos, visiting various galaxies, stars and
planets. This was done so the soul could experience not only more of the
creation, but experience duality as well.

As the cycle is completed, the two identical halves magnetize toward each
other into the perfect incarnation. We may magnetize toward each other ,
however, it isn’t until we have created the alchemical reunion with the
one soul that we are in sacred reunion with our one true twin flame.

When the two souls unite on the spiritual plane, one may sense entering the
body near the heart and into the solar plexus, there one may visualize
entering a golden mist and having feelings of perfect harmony and bliss.
You have consciously entered your soul, at this time you will sense
your twin flame present and when you each touch, the sacred reunion has
taken place.

You will never be the same and even though there may be no apparent sudden
physical differences as far as a union is concerned between your twin
flame and yourself.The wheels have been set in motion and it is just a
matter of time before a physical union takes place.

I regularly post on Kindle.

Gary has been a writer/ photographer for over 20 years, specializing in nature,landscapes and studying native cultures.Besides visiting most of the United States, he has traveled to such places as Egypt,the Canary Islands,much of the Caribbean. He has studied  the Mayan Cultures in Central America, and the Australian Aboriginal way of life.Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in many different parts of the world!

He has published several books about the various cultures he has observed.

For more information and a link to his hard cover and Ebooks,and contact information: please check his website.www.commonsensejourneys.com

Your comments appreciated

reality

The Necktie

The Necktie

A guy goes into a restaurant and lounge,
his shirt
open at the collar, but is stopped by a bouncer who tells
him he must wear a necktie to get in.

So the guy goes out to his car and he looks around for
a tie and discovers that he just doesn’t have one. He sees
a set of jumper cables in his trunk. In desperation he ties
these around his neck, manages to fashion a fairly
acceptable looking knot and lets the ends dangle
free.

He goes back to the restaurant and the bouncer carefully
looks him over for a few minutes and then says, “Well,
okay, I guess you can come in — just don’t start
anything.”

have a pun or joke delivered to your Kindle.

Sell Art Online

The Boston Marathon Bombing

The
Boston Marathon Bomb Massacre has affected everyone,maybe even more
than the 9/11 terror attacks over New York and Washington D.C.

Horrific
as 9/11 was, and it did affect everyone , not only in the United
States, but across the world as well. Possibly,  the  the impact of the
Boston bombings will overtime be greater.

The
9/11 attacks were particularly horrific, not only in the fact that over
three thousand people were killed and countless injured, but also
because this was the first time anyone had ever attempted anything that
approached  barbaric actions of this magnitude.

There
was probably no one in the civilized world who could ever imagine that
anyone could even think about doing something so cruel and heartless as
this action was. How could anyone conceive of committing this atrocity
and then commit suicide while performing the act of terror? I know, I
personally watched it over and over again, wondering if what I saw was
real and contemplating what sort of evil mind could possibly do such a
thing. It was the first time in my life I realized there was evil in the
world.

The
Boston Marathon tragedy has changed people’s lives even more than 9/11,
this affects everyone. Even though 9/11 was horrific, this act brings
it home to  the average American. We all saw the footage from 9/11 and
were shaken up by it, and angered that someone could kill so many
innocent people and celebrate by dancing in the streets.

Despite
all of this ,unless you lived in the New York, Washington D.C. area,
the average American was unaffected on a personal level, most didn’t
personally know anyone who was killed in the senseless attacks.

This
time it is different, with twenty-six thousands participants in the
marathon, and probably twenty-five thousand from the United States,
almost everyone in the country knows someone, or knows someone who knows
someone who was there, or they live in a town where someone lives that
was there.

This
makes it personal. Besides , because it was the second such major
attack on our homeland, this brings it home to the small town
countryside. When a relative, or someone we know is involved, we take it
personal.This is when we want to do something about it, the emotion
will not die this time.

We
all at some point in life face a life or death situation, where in an
instant we could be gone. For some it could be an auto accident, an act
of violence such as a robbery or mugging, or an act of terror. It is
during these times , we suddenly realize what is important.

Everyone’s
lives have changed, even more so than after 9/11.This affects everyone,
most of us knew someone who was there, someone who could have been
taken from us in an instant. We were all changed forever, the event
should tell us to never take life and our freedom for granted.

Above
all we need to remember who did this horrible act , and do everything
we can so people like this never have a chance to do it again, and
remember, no one used a gun. It’s way past time to have a look at our
immigration procedures. Only allow people to come into this country who
would do us no harm and actually benefit our country with their talents
and abilities, too many come in with ulterior motives , many come on
student visas and never leave.

We need to stop letting people in because of who they may vote for or to provide cheap labor and thus deny our own people a job.


Above all we need to protect our Constitution and Bill of Rights,
without those two documents we would never have the opportunity to
celebrate life as we know it in these United States.

I post regularly on Kindle.

What has your Government done for you?

The Wizard

The Wizard

So there’s this Wizard who worked in a factory.
Everything was
satisfactory except that certain miscreants, taking advantage of his
good nature, would steal his parking spot.

This continued until he put up the following
sign:

“This parking space belongs to the Wizard. … Violators will be
toad.”

Now you can have jokes delivered to your Kindle on a regular and timely manner.

Photography Prints

One Life Lived


The story on one man’s adventure of a lifetime.

Hey, repost this article, and I’ll send you
the link where you can download the book for free.”

I wasn’t angry. I didn’t hate my job. I wasn’t annoyed with
capitalism, and I was indifferent to materialism. I wasn’t escaping
emptiness, nor was I searching for meaning. I have great friends and a
wonderful family. The dude two doors down invited me over for steak or
pork chops—my choice—one Sunday, and I couldn’t even tell you the first
letter of his name. Most of my teeth are natural.

I had enjoyed some nominal success: a few books to my name, a bunch
of speaking engagements across the country, a new audio program for
teenagers. Sure, the producers of The Amazing Race had rejected all five
of my applications to hotfoot around the world—all five!—and my
girlfriend and I had just parted ways, but I’d whined all I could about
the race, and the girl wasn’t The Girl anyway.

All in all, my life was pretty fantastic.

But I felt boxed in. Look at a map, and there we are, a pin stuck in
the wall. There’s the United States, about twenty-four square inches’
worth, and there’s the rest of the world, about seventeen hundred square
inches begging to be explored. I looked back, and I looked forward.
This life is serious: I want the wife, I want the babies, I want the
business success, and I understand the work that is required ’til the
wee hours to get them. But I didn’t want to leave any experience unlived
before that happened.

I felt as if I was a few memories short, as if there was still time
for me to go out there and get missing for a little while. Bust out the
List o’ Good Times, sell my car, store my crap, stuff a backpack, buy a
small mountain of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and hop on a plane. Just
this once.

I first started to visualize this trip when I was in high school.
Back then it was a dream, like playing basketball in the NBA, although I
legitimately thought I was going to play in the NBA. Then, a year or so
passed, and my NBA dream morphed into the A-division in Italy. I went
off to college, and my dream settled on any one of the top leagues
throughout Europe. By the time I graduated from college, I would have
signed with any team, anywhere. I would have lived in a tent and hunted
for my own food with a blowgun. I just wanted to hoop. Then my
thirty-six-hour professional basketball career in Germany came to an
end, and I flew home. I left to write my first book.

My dream to travel around the world wasn’t really that serious. Other
things, domestic things, were on my mind. My first book got published;
national media outlets flashed the cover on TV; I was invited to speak
at a variety of venues. Then, I looked at theList o’ Good Times:

  •     Run a mile on the Great Wall of China.
  •     Sing karaoke in a foreign language.
  •     Castrate a wild bull.
  •     Tip a crisp $100 bill on a $20 tab.
  •     Read the Bible.
  •     Handwrite a letter from the heart.
  •     Grow a mustache for a month.
  •     Cut my hair into a mullet (at a different time than growing the mustache).
  •     Provide a month’s supply of food for an entire African village.
  •     Scuba dive in the Caribbean during winter.
  •     Watch a movie in an Asian language without subtitles.
  •     Pick up a hitchhiker.
  •     Attend the Super Bowl.
  •     Dress up as Batman and run around asking people abruptly if they’ve heard anything about a robbery in the neighborhood.

I made my list when I was a sophomore in college. The heavens had
dumped a mountain of snow on us in North Andover, Massachusetts, and
school had been called off. Everything was called off. Plows were
barricaded in. The National Guard was on standby.

So I sat down to write. I had previously read a chapter in one of
those Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I think it was A Second Helping
of Chicken Soup for the Grandmother’s Son-in-Law’s Estranged Best
Friend’s Dog’s Wounded Right Leg for the Soul, Revised Edition. Some
elderly dude had crafted an essay about how, when he was a young lad,
he’d written out a list of the things he wanted to do with his life:
climb this mountain, play that instrument, learn this language, etc. And
then—get this—he spent his life actually doing them rather than talking
about his list at cocktail parties. “Ah, yes. Scuba diving in the
Caribbean. I’ve got that on my bucket list.”

I looked around my dorm room. I didn’t have any new books to read,
homework could wait, TV seemed too easy a solution at the moment.

The list seemed like a good idea at the time.

Fast-forward a few years, and there I was, approaching thirty,
fast—really, really fast—the List o’ Good Times staring back at me from
the screen on my laptop, cursor blinking. One hundred forty-two items on
that list. How long would this take me?

  •     Complete a marathon.
  •     Design the landscaping for my own house.
  •     Make a positive impact on a child’s life before I have children of my own.
  •     Obtain minority ownership in a professional sports team.
  •     Fish off the coast of New Zealand.
  •     Learn to jump while wakeboarding.
  •     Anonymously buy someone’s meal from across the restaurant.
  •     Climb Kilimanjaro.
  •     Smoke a Cuban in Cuba.
  •     Hug a koala.
  •     Ride an elephant.
  •     Bet my wad on the underdog in a cockfight.
  •     Learn to fly without a copilot.
  •     Randomly spend an hour cleaning up a littered area.
  •     Attend the World Cup.
  •     Make love on a beach.

This could take ten years, I thought. My boy Sipsey said, “Shep, this
list is going to cost you three-point-four million dollars.” Even if I
had another fifty years or so left on this planet, depending upon a
stroke of luck here or there and what those chaps in lab coats come up
with, I was still far short on money. I made the determination, right
then and there: two years to save and one year to be on the road. One
year to get Out There, meet people, volunteer, learn, and get my heart
racing a little bit. One year to read. One year to hold an impoverished
kid’s hand and tell her that her life can be whatever she wants it to
be. One year to stand on top of a bridge, declare my dominion over the
world, and jump. Maybe I can make a small difference—in my life and the
life of someone else.

Asking yourself what you want to do before you die is a silly
question, shifts focus to the wrong place. A setup for procrastination,
surrendering your List o’ Good Times to retirement. Who said anything
about dying? I was healthy and capable and had no fatal diagnoses on my
record. Death, still presumably far away, didn’t even have a place in
this conversation.

And a bucket list? To hell with a bucket list: that’s not the time to
start living, when your doctor announces that that black spot fastened
to your lung is malignant and inoperable, and, well, you just better go
ahead and make sure your will is current. A bucket list? That always
makes me laugh: Oh, shit! Now the clock is really ticking! Gotta go out
and do everything I want to do before it’s too late!

This list belongs in the present. This—right now, today—this is our
time to live, yours and mine. Quality years ahead, presumably, and we’ve
already had some great experiences, met some great people, and created
some great memories. Life is good. We ain’t mad.

But I still felt boxed in. Maybe I’d gotten a little soft. Maybe I’d
neglected the best parts of life. Maybe I’d become too regimented.

I needed a little perspective. I’d be home soon to find a wife and
conceive kids and construct a career, but right then I wasn’t worried
about any of that. I needed to get out there, just for a year.

I needed a year to live.

 

So, here we go. You:

The high school kid with a thousand ideas for the future. Now is the time to harness your enthusiasm, start dreaming big.

The college student tossed into the blend of social and academic
life, loving it but anxious about what’s next. Now’s the time to have
your list handy.

The young professional, suffocated by a cloud of work and swearing that, “I’m missing out on something.”

The older professional, thinking you’ve lost your window of adventure.

And the retiree, lost in reminiscence and excited to go exploring once again.

And me, sitting in the Miami airport, a mouth full of chocolate and
peanut buttery goodness, ten minutes from boarding a plane to Guatemala
City, about to embark on the greatest adventure of my life . . .

See the author fighting bulls!!