miscellaneous

I Need Directions for My Directions!

(for audio blog, scroll to the bottom)                 following-directions

I need directions for how to follow directions.

Something like: Step one-read them in order. Step 2: do the steps in order. No improvising. (The steps are numbered in chronological order for a reason. The procedure isn’t: Start wherever you like to put your kids’ swing set together.)

If that were the case, I would start at the end, when it’s all finished.

I wish all instructions said: Start wherever you like! So I’ll start with step 3! What goes good after 3?  I hate 4, 5 looks way too fucking complicated and 6? I think 6 should follow 2, then we’ll do 7. . . then I will see how I feel after that. I may even leave out some numbers. I mean just because you have a bunch of numbers doesn’t mean you have to use them all right? I mean even math doesn’t use ALL THE NUMBERS at once. That’s just stupid.

Good I’m being discerning. Even a little smart about the number line which has always bothered me. What if number 2 hates 1? What if 4 can’t stand the sight of 3? It’s like grade school in a small town where you are always sitting next to Kimmy Stanley and Kimmy Stanley, who wears blue glasses and pigtails, is one boring fucking individual. Karen Spruell is no better. Fuck, I thought, can I just change my name during school hours? I will be the only school kid with a series of aliases. Or is that aliei?

I decided I should change my last name to New. Because I wanted to sit next to Paula Newman and that would guarantee it. This was after I tried to get Paula to change her last name to Stegg so she could sit by me, my name being Stehr. The shortest unpronounceable name ever. Phonics stopped being a thing once I was done answering roll call.

I was the only kid in sixth grade with a disguised name due to chronology, which may be why I developed an allergy to reading directions. So long and drawn out- Jesus I will be dead before I finish reading the instructions and swing sets will be outlawed for the dangerously boring things they are. They really should just collapse after the third use. Even birds won’t use a use pink and blue swing set. Ever see an abandoned swing set in a yard?

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There’s a perimeter of radioactivity around them, no squirrels, butterflies, raccoons—not even any spiders, for God’s sake. Maybe they know something we don’t. Children play strategically around them, as if they don’t even see the swing set that dad nearly lost his marriage over during one very long Christmas Eve sponsored by egg nog. (Rum? Really? He would have been better off with whisky or scotch. Who builds anything drinking rum? Maybe that’s why the kids won’t play on it.

I figured maybe if I didn’t follow the directions I could build a swing set that kids might use for more than five minutes. Our yard isn’t really big enough to have a black hole of that size in it and I’m not about to have my kids stay indoors with me. I’m their fucking mother for god’s sake, not a companion animal. My job is to make sure they don’t expire before age eighteen and if they are in the house with me all day and night because they are avoiding the Bermuda triangle of a swing set in the back yard, someone is going to be spending some time in the lockup, and last I checked Murdering Your Own Children Even if they Fucking Deserve it, is not on the list of preferred parental behaviors, and I don’t want to be in a tiny cell next to Kimmy Stanley or some shit for the next thirty years of my life.

I thought maybe if I just followed the directions in a-chronological order, the swing set might look so goddamn interesting and mysterious that my kids might not ever come back in the house at all, and this was a goal worth working towards.

As I built this monstrosity I also employed some Synchronous Directionality, which is when you do all of the steps of the instructions at the same time. You definitely need to wear tennis shoes for this. I figured Syn chronous Directionalitywould keep me completely safe from all thing ordinal, but as soon as I built the swing set, loosely speaking, the government called and wanted to hire me and wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when I said “I can’t follow instructions.”

Apparently the bureaucrats needed help understanding the tax code, which science has proven cannot be done while following the guidelines, and then Trump wanted me in the Strategic Planning Department.

I asked, “Really? Strategic planning for what?”

They said they didn’t know and that was part of the beauty of my job. I was to work towards an unknown goal using something like Debbie Snack Cakes as a template and, since my name is Debbie, and I needed to rehabilitate my name and reputation because of that awful Dallas thing of the early 80’s, I took the job and created the Adventitous Planning Department. No one knows what it means so I pretty much do whatever I want, mostly designing things that don’t work, but that’s not a problem since no one can really figure out what the things I design are for in the first place.

Like place mats for cars. That was a signature piece. I also designed an ice cube tray that makes anything but cubes, mostly jagged slivers in random triangular shapes that cut your throat open when you drink your highball. (So if a highball is more mixer than booze, is a lowball more booze than mixer? If so I’ll have three lowballs please.)

Meanwhile Ice Scientists have told me that my non-cube ice shapes aren’t random because ice cleaves apart in certain predictable patterns, but since I was listening to the words they were using to explain this out of order (like listening to English as if it was German) I didn’t understand what the Ice-atists were saying to me. Global warming will take care of the ice anyway, so I don’t really need to know.

I have also recently embarked on atemporality where I attempt to experience time out of order. Like expecting a break up that already happened! Some people call that depression. I call it planning for your past. (I’m going to do that surprise break up better this time because I know all my lines!

Atemporal living is also very similar to housework-pretty much the eternal return of the same, thus the stuttering now of the dishes never being over, also known as timelessness. Who knew you could get that with your kitchen? Being a practicing Atemporalist also means I’m never late anymore.

And my other trick, called a-historicity is also coming along nicely. This consists of pretending something that never happened happened last week. President Hillary. I thought I’d be alone in this project, but no! I’m attending a Hillary is Really the President party tonight.$_1

We are going to bring lowballs and build a swing set.

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Your’s truly,

The Laughing Coyote

Audio of this blog below…give it a listen!

 

 

 

Categories: miscellaneous, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

How I Plan to Save the World through Greeting Cards

How the fuck does Facebook know where I’ve been even when I don’t have an iPhone? Or any smart phone. I lost mine and have an old dumb phone while I contemplate my next move.

Apparently I was at Pilar NM a year ago and Zozobra a year later, but I didn’t post that. I don’t want to know where I’ve been and I certainly don’t want anyone else to know. I find being tracked unnerving. What am I, the elusive and nearly extinct Jaguar? In fact I’ve been known to call people with iPhones and lie about where I am, just to create a false trail. “Yep, I’m at an Allsup’s in Gallup. Great price on cigarettes.”

How does FB know where I’ve been? I don’t post anything other than political commentary, satire, stupid comments about Windows 10, research about BSS (Bernie Supporter Syndrome) and bits of performance video in order to find out how many people I can piss off at the same time before someone tracks me down and beats me to death with their iPhone. It’s all about livin’ on the edge.

Yes, posting on FB is pretty much narcissism deluxe, but I figure with everyone else bombarding me with posts they should go to therapy for, and re-posting happy inspirational sayings that I find completely irrelevant, shallow and stupid, I am allowed to post my irreverent bullshit too. Until Trump gets elected and Stupid finally wins and we are reduced to grunting and rudimentary symbols.

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If wise inspirational sayings worked on anything, the world would have changed by now and so would I. I did the research online and in reality. I’ve stood in Hallmark day after day reading all those cards and WOW, both world and I HAVEN’T CHANGED A BIT.

In fact, I think there might be a little understood correlation between Greeting Card Inspirational Failure and Trump Insanity Disorder, also known as the GOP’s real agenda. Their greeting card should be: YES WE REALLY ARE THIS BAD.

But wait, maybe there is time to save the world from us. And I think it might have to do with marketing a whole new set of greeting cards. And I’m just the woman for the job.

How Greeting Cards Have Failed Us

The first thing I did is go to Shaman School, which is very easy to do since I live in Santa Fe, home of the International Stolen Shamanism for White People. In one weekend, I learned the time honored technique of Speaking with the Dead and boy are they a boring fucking bunch.

So I went back to the well I’ve been dipping in since I was 20: reading dead philosophers, psychologists and authors. I figured talking to them might be even better and it was. They agreed with me that greeting cards suffer from a sophomoric lack of depth. Then I called Hallmark and proposed a line of greeting cards derived from Frederick Nietzsche. Here are 2 samples.

Sample 1:

Hi! God is Dead.

(Open the card)

Thinking of you!

 

Sample 2

Ubermenche.

(Open the card)

Are you in?

 

Then we branched out to Martin Heidegger:

What do you get when you cross Being with Time?

         

You’re right! A chicken!

 

If you didn’t find that funny, don’t worry, there’s more. Something for everyone. And a little known fact that the chicken crossing the road joke originated in pre-world war II Germany. What people don’t know is that the chicken was crossing the road to get away from German philosophers and most likely made it into France where Jean Paul Sartre’s greeting cards were all the rage at that time.

No Exit?

(open card)

Me too!

 

When I contacted Camus with the Oujia board, he made this classic contribution:

          “What’s the point?”

         

(Blank inside: write your own message)

 

Not to leave out the deceased psychologists from the school of psychoanalytic object relations for Valentine’s, we came up with this soon-to-be classic:

You are so my part-object.

 

 

 

Let’s do the depressive position!

 

And then of course we can’t leave out Hemmingway. It’s a little known fact that Hallmark actually contracted with Hemmingway for a line of greeting cards way back when.  One of them read something like this

“I think I might love you,” she said.

(open card)

He took a drink and looked out the window. There was a mountain. Then the avalanche came. 

 

That card wasn’t very successful. We suspect it was before its time.

I tried modernizing it and throwing in some science. Hemmingway seems like he might have enjoyed the clarity and succinctness of science.

There was the Big Bang.

 

 

 

And then we drank.

 

We are still testing this one.

If Facebook got hold of all this it would say something asinine like:

Debbie was at the Big Bang 2015.

How to make a Rice Krispies Treat Party Hat

 

Well, I guess it’s still happening somewhere.

 

If you have a greeting card suggestion in similar vein we’d love to hear from you. Hit the Reply button at the bottom of the blog. If it makes me laugh, I’ll post it on Facebook! And I will love you forever.  (Imagine heart emojis here. I invested all my money in greeting cards with enough depth to save the world and now I can’t afford emojis!)

Sincerely,

Laughing Coyote

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Introducing CakeHead: A New Way to Birthday

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Featuring a way to have your cake and BE it too!Fall and Winter 2015-1-2016 093

 

Provision for a somber reflective moment when they told me I have to wear the cake for a whole year to get any decent health insurance under the Obama-Cake Provision. (Frosting not included).

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Brightening up a bit, when I realized I could have three more drinks in order to get fully lit.

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Introducing Stealth-Cake: No we can’t even see you under there. Everyone thinks the cake is talking….

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Will Laughing Coyote Post Again?

The short answer is YES!

Laughing Coyote has been noticing an increased interest in her site….THANK YOU FOLKS! Being tracked, excuse me, being FOLLOWED, internet style, is a fun gig.

But LC hasn’t posted anything since 2014! Dear God, Ye Gads…..has something happened? Did Laughing Coyote lose her pen? Did she suddenly notice the world wasn’t that funny after all and start a new blog called EVERYTHING SUCKS? Did she discover she has no talent for cooking and subsequently been spending her time doing a photo shoot for the print journal YUCK?  Is she stuck between the couch cushions waiting for someone to come over and extricate her while she munches on old peanut brittle and popcorn bits? WTF has happened to LC? WILL SHE POST AGAIN?

Well, during the holidays the Laughing Coyote decided to clean her house and had a terrible accident with the vacuum involving one of her appendages, some whiskers, half of one ear, a sandwich, a merry-go-round and her tail, not to mention what was left of her pride. Instead of just focusing on one task at a time, like the Buddists suggest, Laughing Coyote  let herself get distracted by a Looney Tunes marathon that featured the Road Runner, Instant Hole and a bathtub full of water, and well….let’s just say the word “ugly” doesn’t cover it.

Laughing Coyote was finally rescued by a pair of a cats and a bighorn sheep–don’t ask me what any of them were doing in the house, let alone together, or why they would want to rescue a coyote to begin with, but they were compassionate and helpful. LC then spent some valuable time recuperating, which included learning how to type with the other paw, how not to binge watch Roadrunner on Netflix, as well as being forbidden to ever go near a vacuum again.

If you see Laughing Coyote near a vacuum, even if she’s just talking to it, you should report it to anyone close by wearing a uniform. They will know what to do.

Laughing Coyote says SHE WILL BLOG AGAIN and plans to do a set about the dangers of cleaning your own house within the next two weeks or so. Right now she’s doing a full color layout for the glamour print magazine “Tail,” which features talking animals who have been injured during domestic incidents of cleaning, that will function as a warning to others that the fabulous, enticing and often air brushed world of TIDYING UP is not what it looks like from the outside and should definitely be left up to the professionals. LC was offered a tidy sum to do this layout, full on furry style, and thus took a break from trying to be hilarious to do a honest days work instead.  The only caveat was that they shoot her good paw.

oh crap not shoot her good paw….damn this internet machine that can’t read my intentions….

…..photograph her good paw.

Until we meet again,

Very soon

Under the dust bunnies that have lived here so long they all went out an got an education and started families and applied for favored nation status….

THE LAUGHING COYOTE

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