Saturday, November 19, 2011

Party Foul #1 – Needless destruction by fire, the supreme party foul…

Needless destruction by fire, is the supreme party foul…The proverbial party foul appropriately begins with the beginning, i.e. where it ends.  The original party necessitated fire, and out of fire cometh the original party foul.  How I love fire - providing the energy to attract focus, a surrounding membrane for music, gathering, food and dance, safety from the unknown forces of the night.  The sun of the night.  Yet in the face of creativity and warmth, lies the darkness of fire's power; despite its usefulness, fire can be used to realize the jealousy of man -- unleashing destructive and sadistic forces, that burn down villages and towns.  Fire that destroys the party does not bring the party.  Fire allows the one who believes its party inferior, even if invited, to swiftly lay waste to another's party.  The origin of the party foul mirrors the self and the perceived limitations of the self - true or false it matters not; only that which is perceived is reality.  And fire is never satisfied, but it merely consumes, until dust remains.  Yes, the supreme party foul -- destruction by fire.  If it burns hot enough and large enough, it will result in complete destruction of mankind while in the right arsonist’s hands. 

The party foul of destruction by fire need not be pernicious; while unclear, it may have arisen as early humans tasked with watching the fire itself fell asleep and allowed the fire to come into the wrong person's hands, or if it simply sparked and spread by its own physical forces, and thereafter roamed freely through the campsite, as the early humanoids were screaming in anger and desperation until the fire subsided. Carelessness too is a party foul; a party foul need not be intentional but may arise from mere negligence of the partier.  Whether humans willfully allow the chaos to ensue or watch in silence, the effect is the same - fire consumes!

Within the party foul lies the danger of the party: manifestations of the self in its most destructive force.  This is not specific to the party however but arises in all forms of social interaction -- humans can unleash their inner party-demons to realize massive destruction and pain.  Ironically, the demons themselves were most likely created out of destruction and pain, while humans foolishly repeat these wrongs after experiencing them in the first place as an attempt to overcome these demons.  Fools, a party-fouled cannot utilize the exacting tools of the party-foul to overcome the party foul...fire cannot defeat fire; a mirror that replicates does not defeat but merely doubles over, exacerbates.

Within the belly of the Dragon lies fear of the infinite that drives the party foul; a reminder of our own limitations in an imperfect mind-body.  However within the light of the heart fuels the party-self; love and creation, which is cyclical and undying.  How quickly can the dragon's fire overtake the soft light of the heart, which is the guiding force of the party, and party-balance is lost in favor of the party foul.  Do not be mistaken -- the party foul's affects can be quick and devastating, leading to chaos, anger, destruction, and hatred.  Calm the dragon in the face of infinite fear and the party will never defeat you! Quiet the fire that survives in the belly of the Dragon, and you will overcome the party foul, be immediately united with the greater party force -- the ultimate god-head of the party -- the Boomskull.  Murphy’s law (i.e. Buddhism) dictates – shit happens, so how are you going to deal with it?  The ultimate party rule in the face of the party foul: Open your mirror, turn it inwards, and show the dragon its ugliness.  Now watch as the light suddenly overcomes the dragon and turns its strength in unison with party-preservation!

Remember, the only place appropriate for an uncontrollable fire is on the dance floor



The failure to avert a fire, itself is a party foul, even if the fire appears under control or dead such that its overseer believes it will not spread to a massive scale.  We have seen such an occurrence on Penn State's campus in the fall of 2011.  What senior officials at Penn State believed was under control ten years ago, as their party-fouler began to run amuck around campus, committing unspeakable horrors that caused embers of hatred and loathing to go unnoticed around campus, while officials ignored the warnings and threats, just as the fire seems like it will go away unnoticed, suddenly it sparks into a force driven by its own burning hunger, swallowing a pillar of strength within its realm, all because the fire was not snuffed out early, and the requisite party-fouler brought to justice. Yes, when the risk exists that fire will engulf and kill, do not ignore the fire even if in your human ignorance it seems controlled.  Because just as the fire seems about to die, suddenly it spreads with the force and immediacy seemingly incomprehensible, if only were it not completely predictable.

***

Molly the Dog is licking my face.  I am on the futon -- her bed.  The golden retriever intends to motivate motion.  Big J walks into bedroom after surveying the messy damage I caused from browned-out cooking in his kitchen  –

“It stinks like ass downstairs  – what the hell did you cook?”

Immediately, wary of the early morning criticism due to a pounding headache, I am arguing with him, “I made tuna melts for you and me – but you were passed out when I got up here.  I cleaned up – it shouldn’t smell like tuna too bad.”

“It doesn’t smell like tuna down there, it smells like something else.  Why are there two empty Coors lights on my desk?”  He has one of those giant Ikea desks that are really ugly and full of corrogated steel.

“I grabbed one for you, one for me, but like I said, you were passed out.”

“The Coors belongs to my roommate you ass…I had micro-brews downstairs…why are you drinking this beer and not mine?”

“Whatever dude.  I don’t know – let me go back to sleep…”

“What tuna did you use to cook downstairs?  Starkist Chunk Light or the  Albacore White?  What bread did you use?  The Arnold Bakery Cracked Wheat or the Stroman’s?”

“You are a cracked wheat.  We are living in a material world,” Head pounding, this conversation is worse than Madonna while hungover.  “Arnold’s and the Texas Toast I suppose.”

“I don’t even own that bread!  Now I have to buy my roommate tuna, beer, fancy bread, and Texas Toast too.  You have no respect for communal living!”

Dude, seriously, suck my balls.  I was so friggin’ hungry last night.  We don't even own material goods (bull-ish). 

Real World 2120: Episode You Stole My Tuna and Coors Lizzy, suddenly comes to a head, “God – do I look like a red-headed bike-messenger’s step-child born from Puck’s asshole?   We’re talking a dollar’s worth of tuna, two slices of Texas Toast, and two Silver Bullets for Spaghetti Monster’s sake!” 


“Just go down there and see if you smell anything!  Something’s not right…”

Big J’s kitchen smells like propane.  The front burner is turned 20 degrees into the on position.  Hmm…interesting, I turned it off…the multiverse must have turned it back on.

I return upstairs to go back to bed, but the dog is sitting on the futon, smiling and wagging her tail.  That bitch…

“Uhh…well, I noticed the stove may not have been turned off all the way…” 

“What! You left the stove on all night?”

“No, I didn’t leave it on.  Someone else must of turned it on or it just must not have turned off all the way.  Besides, the flame wasn’t burning all night.  Just that the burner may not have been turned all the way off really...a slight gas leak.  It wouldn’t have been enough gas to start a fire.  Gas frequently runs incessantly, think of it like a pilot light...only a slight leak…just air it out…”

“Hold on.  All of those statements are contradictory.  Someone else must have left it on?  Wait, you're other selves?”

What is he talking about?  Typical lawyer, twisting my words.  That doesn't even make sense...

“No.  That’s not what I said.  I turned off the stove, but it didn’t twist all the way off.  Must be defective…”
  
“You Dumbass!  You could have burnt down the house!” 


“Good thing you didn’t light up.  Besides…”

“…A slight gas leak?  Air it out?  I’ll air you out, alright, but that’s not good enough.  Are you a moron?  Slight gas leaks leads to slight gas explosions!”

As vividly evidenced by the Earth’s version of the Death Star,

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leaky pipes can lead to serious death and destruction.  Methane buildup from a persistent source can be detrimental towards life forms around it…so can plutonium or uranium that reaching critical mass.  Individuals generally responsible for an all consuming fire rarely accept culpability.  “If you give me the same circumstances, I’d do it again. 

 Consider the following stellar exchange from the asshole of corporate America:

Random Transocean Exec: pfft, it’s not my problem.  It’s not like we owned the goddamn rig.  Random BP Exec: pfft…we were only reaping millions in profits in natural resources that legally belong to my company, not the people of the Americas or the Caribbeans.  We privately exploit the country’s natural resources.  What did we ever do wrong? We’re the victims!  Safety is Transocean’s job! 
Random Halliburton Exec:  C’mon, what’d you expect?  We’re Haliburton?  Of course we’d f*ck this up…I mean, screw those other guys!  It’s their fault! This isn’t fair!

Dipshit PoliticianAnyone ever think of installing an acoustic trigger – because we certainly didn’t?


Lamar “suck on my drill” McKay:  THE ACCOUSTIC TRIGGER DOES NOTHING! MY EYES MY EYES! 

*** 

“Look.  I turned off the stove…maybe the dog turned it on?” She’s still wagging her tail and smiling, “She is fairly sneaky…”

“Dude.  This isn’t a fart...you can’t blame it on the dog.”

“Chill out man – you’re freaking out like Jim Kosek.  It’s not that big deal....”

“IT IS A BIG DEAL!”  Looking for an insult, Big J pauses, “You can’t cook in my house anymore!
A few weeks ago during the great Snowpocalype of 2010, I was voted most likely to burn down the rental house that my friends and I had procured for President's Day Weekend.  Now I see their reasoning.  Nonetheless, I feel the need to…defend myself -- ooo...for something that you f*cked up? Yeah, that's a party foul.  Five yards.

Denial of the Party Foul is itself a Party Foul...(read more about Party Foul Denial here)

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Welcome to the Party Foul!

Which brings us to the party foul...

This Universe, like the human mind, walks a delicate balance between order and disorder.  Up to this point in human history, we have successfully navigated the milky balance between animus and anima, the ability to create with the hunger to destroy, entropy v. anarchy, etc. 

The party foul represents the moment that complete disorder is unleashed.  When all reason breaks down, Pandora’s Box is opened and irrationality ensues; the negative consequences of the party foul spread like wild-fire.  Religions cast this great struggle as good v. evil, sin v. austerity.  When the dragon overcomes, the Partiers, like John Jenson, Rick the Rat, C-Money, Gards, Fat Pay, Shady G, Euro P Gold, Cousin J, Party Boy Geazy, Party Girl Pinky, Tinka, Juicy Jules, Cousin SEP, Big Z, Big Mike, Big J, CRSN, the Flag Man, Lil' Prince, Lil' Smokey, Ronnie, Danny Boy, Bosch, Eh Goddamit, Quark, Big Davidson, Cliffbar, Aro, Hercules Einstein, Vicky the Viking, Emily the Baker, the Booty, Mexico, Peach Pie, Pigs, CC, J-Man, Strawberry, TaxMan, Suzers, Blazin D, Chuck the Hipster, Nosey Lena, BeReal, Tax Man, Kristophe the Beer Man, understand a different form of chaos – and decry Party Foul!  The Party Foul marks that moment in time when the pure unpredictability of the universe is unleashed in human form, and all hell breaks loose around those within the strings of the persona’s party-foul.    Most of the time, the party foul sets in motion a series of events, compounding, consuming others in its course of destruction until there is nothing left, the momentum disipated, but the indicia of destruction.

For example, following the party foul of the 2001-2 New Year's Party, which you haven't yet learned of but will be detailed shortly, after Joe Jenson jettisoned Dude-Bro Burrows through the wall, it set off a course of events that is impossible to measure in scope and breadth:

Jensen's girl Yoni walked away from the relationship
and into the arms of another. 
She is now a mommy.  Jensen joined the Marines, where he lived at Camp Pendelton,
California and Okinawa, Japan.  This decision could be directly linked
to the lost girl who would have been otherwise. 
Anything is possible in the multiverse,
and a properly executed party foul changes history in manifestations
that may never be truly comprehended.  Were it not for a Tsunami that struck in Thailand
the day after Christmas, 2004, Joe Jenson may have been shipped off to Iraq. 
A few days after Joe Jenson put a hole in the wall with a human body,
riddled with the guilt of causation, I found myself in the back seat of a car
going 70 miles an hour at 4 AM around the curvy roads in the Mainline, 
and Danny Boy hit a patch of ice and the car swerved right and over a wall,
flipped across the street and landed with a defeaning thud. 
A BMW collapsed into a shattered meatball. 

Bosch was in the front passenger’s side, upon touchdown,
his ankle broken into pieces as well.  His winter was spent hobbling around
Cornel’s campus with a walking boot in tow, struggling through the snow. 
My head, bloodied from the impact, vividly remembers
struggling from an upside down angle, a car that smelled of fuel,
and how difficult it was to unbuckle while strapped in the wrong way. 
It’s all related to the party foul.  We’re all connected for better or worse.   
       
            The greatest party foul of the information-age occurred September 11, 2001, championed by a powerful and influential group of shadowy world leaders.[1]  It has led to years of war, destruction, and a lost generation of volunteers that have returned home without any hope for the future, devastated by PTSD and no longer able to integrate into society.  Villages and a century of culture lost in the wake of war.  Adolescent recruits drawn into a war by a propaganda machine.  A media obsessed with images of firey planes and destruction, flames that unfolded into bloodlust and rage.  A complacent government that ignored the warning signs, and potentially understood the benefits of war to its benefactors.  A country traumatized by the memory of a day survived by all those who observed on television, and obsessed with exacting that same carnage against innocent civilians thousands of miles away.  Party fouls abound. 
            Everyone alive remembers that fateful day.  While in college at Emory University, a few blocks away from the CDC, watching televisions in the gym after class was cancelled, briefly in fear that an attack may take place close-by.  The student population resembled a walking lot of zombies, confused and destinationless, hungry because Dobbs Cafeteria had been closed.  About 10% of the school’s population hailed from the New York Metro region, 5% from the DC region, unspeakable sorrow and fear.  School was cancelled for two days, so then everybody went home to relive the nightmare on television thousands of times in the next 48 hours.  Since school was cancelled – I invited people over -- a group of select friends - C-Bo, Crackhead, couple of freshman girls from New York who did not know anyone, and Beastie Girl - this hot sophomore I’d been courting for a couple of weeks.  We are drinking games for 2 hours –
            Make a rule – little Shreepal rule – you have to take the little Shreepal off of the cup before you drink.  Eh don't drink me!  You just drank Shreepal, you have to drink!
"Eh Goddamit!  I'm gonna cut you.  I don't talk like that!"
"Hey man, Sweeps man, you kinda do sound like that man..." Says Crackhead, a handsome 6'2" baseball star from Valdosta who had quit the baseball team and about half his brain when he joined the fraternity to become a ladies' man drinker as opposed to a ladies' man athlete, Lauren Freshman in his left arm, who is interested in C-Bo but C-Bo and all 135 pounds of him is already passed out on the couch after like 5 beers.  Been a long day for C-Bo, his family from North Jersey, lots of firemen, lots of stress, I just hope he doesn't pee on the couch like he did last week.
"Shit, two queens, I can’t play."  "AH! You didn’t take off the little Shreeps" yells the Beastie Girl, "DRINK!" 
            The Beastie Girl stayed over that night.  We dated for two years.  Almost started a family, if it weren't for distance, graduation, moving to different cities and starting carreers, and therein lies the strangeness of our world, where beauty occassionally arises from tragedy; French women fall in love with wonkey U.S. soldiers during WWII, yes there is always the slim promise of opportunity, even in the face of sheer horror, that is a reason to get up everyday even in the most disheartening of circumstances. 




[1] The iconic 21st century party foul in no-way overshadows the political party fouls of the 20th century – the Holocaust, the A Bombs, the annexation of Palestine and corresponding internment of its people, Stalin’s “Gulag Archipelago” and engineering of the Ukrainian famine, the Cambodian Killing Fields, Ruwandan and Bosnian genocides – too much sorrow and pain to list from historical eras that people hope to forget, but their mere occurrence and remembrance seems to perpetuate further violence.  The party foul is rooted in the marginalization of the other, fratricide, that people are worth excluding or not sympathizing with because understanding would require a person to turn the mirror inwards; instead of introspection, much simpler instead to condemn another. 

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Party Rule #6: always eat before you party…

Party Rule #5: always eat before you party…this way you don’t burn down the house… 
Order Dominos.  4 out of 5 prefer the new recipe.  Perplexingly, however, with the exception of New York, it is nearly impossible to get a friggin’ Gyro delivered at 2 AM.  I have a dream where all races and peoples, across the world, shall have universal access to food, and late night pizza delivery…don’t cook drunk, don’t forget to turn off the stove, and don’t collect 200 dollars!

On the cab ride home from the club, we bypassed the Great American Dinner Pub, the archetypical late night livery in Bensalem, and nowhere would deliver that late.[1]


[1] When dining at the Pub, ask for Kurt, the late night waiter with a sweet, green, cartoony tattoo-sleeve, green eyes, a boyish face, and skittish smile.  Don’t worry however; he’s too polite to spit on your food.  He must be a graphic designer or artist by day, and waiting tables at night, because he’ll draw a cartoon of Goofy on your check at the end of the meal.  Nothing is better than receiving a hand-drawn Goofy on a late night dinner check.  If you still need convincing, the Philly Cheesesteak Omelette is the bomb, and there’s Naked Photo Hunt at the tables, boys’ and girls’ edition.  “Oh Sh*t!  Kurt the Killah drew Goofy on my check again!  HAHA!!! Damn, look at those boobies!”   

Drunkenly, I raided Big J’s kitchen for anything edible – two pieces of Texas Toast from the freezer, along with stealing two pieces of sliced wheat bread in a plastic bag on the kitchen counter, take two cans of tuna – fry the melts in some oil – steal two Coors Lights from the fridge in the bar for Big J so he could enjoy his tuna melt, and it’s steal a meal deal, cheap.  By the time I get up to his room twenty minutes later he was passed out asleep.

Sometimes in life you just have to steal (listen to Song 8, from that hyperlink. It is Stealy Man, by Perpetual Groove.  The website it is from is archive.org, one of the most important internet recepticles of information, along with wikipedia.org.).  According to a rule of nature, you have to steal in life, the question is will you steal and give back, or simply steal and keep for yourself.   The latter, of course...then my friend, you are engaged in a party foul...