Birth of a Notion

The Church of the Daily Pragmatist

I have started my own religion.  Being as capable of faith, hope and love as any, I thought, I should impose my blind adherence to such on you.  Outlined below you will find the basic tenants of my Church, and with them the feeling you are small, insignificant, and wrong about yourself.

Every Religion has its COMMANDMENTS.  Since empirical evidence has observed that the modern human attention span is shrinking, we have only THREE. 

THE 3 COMMANDMENTS: 

ONE-      Be Honest

TWO-     Be Polite 

THREE-  DON'T be Stupid

FOUR- (BONUS COMMANDMENT) Make things BETTER

 1 Be Honest, 2 Be Polite, 3 DON'T be stupid, 4 (bonus COMMANDMENT) Make things BETTER

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Religions must mark the major events that occur to all of us.  Some refer to them as the "Hatch, Match, and Dispatch".  Others might know them better as BIRTH, MARRIAGE, and DEATH.  The Church has a simple, easy to remember prayer for each of these often "BLESSED" occasions.

 My RELIGION'S birth prayer... 

(after suitable gifts are given) "It gets colder than this... I doubt you will ever understand..."
My RELIGION'S funeral Prayer... 

(after suitable gifts are given)"We were all better for the experience... here's mud in your eye"

My RELIGION'S marriage vow... 

(spoken between bride and groom)  "I DO".. (spoken to the congregation)  "Live with it!"

My RELIGION'S Prayer of gathering...

I (we) don't care... They can GO FUCK THEMSELVES. 

sacrament (chosen by the individual) must be readily available, bring the user comfort, be inexpensive, AND consumable
tithing The Church of the Daily Pragmatist does NOT tithe ... instead, bring something to every occasion... (wine, a hot-dish, a song, a joke, love)
porn The Church believes there is no such thing as PORN, merely stimulus that allows us to better define our personal choices and preferences
sin any NON-consensual act between persons that eliminates choice and freedom

THE BIBLE MY Church's Bible is ANY book (chosen by the individual) that encourages and allows for the efficient eventfulness of The 3 Commandments

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Most people who have a religion don't know what they believe.  Their lives are filled with the insistent, incessant, chatter of stale thoughts and the crumbs of illusion that pass for salvation.   The Grapes of wrath make for bitter wine.  The wages of sin can't  keep up with the rate of inflation.  At the Macy's Day Parade of faith, Under Dog has developed a leak and he is pissing on the fire hydrant of our unconscious dreams.  The Church of The Daily Pragmatist, eliminates confusion by simply making indifference a recognised part of our lives.  We welcome Haters and Players, because if the 'game' exists, then we write the 'playbook' with our innocence and naivete, not our stupidity.  

Religion tell us we are alone and are judged constantly.  MY Religion makes us, not judges, but constructive critics.  The Siskel and Ebert of the film fest of existence.   So a hearty 'thumbs up' to those who doubt and deserve.  We are not alone.  We are human, we are alive, and at least we don't make things worse.  

Spread the word, Brethren and Cisterns...

I have a religion, what's YOUR excuse?

DaBuoy

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If you have any Questions or Concerns about The Church of the Daily Pragmatist, feel free to contact me at dabuoy@gmail.com

Yes, I know... another poem

Bob's Your Uncle...

When You write 

all the answers

to things that 

you've wronged

And the wrong

 answers seem

not worth

writing

All the soldiers

are dying for

left on the cross

with the sweet

common touch 

left for crying

and a million

is half of the 

two that you lost

When numbers 

mean nickels

and dimes

Can you honestly 

Answer

Who suffered a loss

or are you left

Only with lying

DaBuoy

Is this a Dagger I See Before Me...

death calls us all

October is drawing to a close and the veil between worlds is at it's thinnest.  All Hallow's Eve looms before us.  An occasion comprised of  the curtains of our desires, where we are tempted by the sugary delights of existence.  We thrust our passions deep into the unblinking darkness of our nature.  Each of us hopes for a trick that treats us to the delicate kiss of  blood and bone, while weaving a tapestry that illuminates the things we never realized.

It is with this in mind that I have compiled a series of images and sounds that point to a tale that beckons and follows us all.  For your consumption and consideration, I present "Love Denied", a very short film based on nothing, and the ghosts that live there.

Take a minute if you will.  Find your most comfortable mask.  Don your grooviest clothes.  Let the spirits flow and the imagination that warms us all, quench and slake the thirst that drives and denies.  Teach yourself to be scared, you are just THAT human.  Learn to HOWL, you are just such a beast.


Happy Hallow e'en


DaBuoy



P.S. Remember, in Hell, you are never alone.

Present and Accounted For

There are people in the world who have gifts.  Michael Phelps can swim fast.  Stephen Hawking can think of grand notions.  My country's Prime Minister can make the world smell like a taint.  Each of us has a set of skills that can allow us to be better than we are.  An Olympian, a physicist, a butt kisser - all different, all famous, all known for something.

People learn to be what they are.  Someone had to take Michael to the pool.  Someone had to teach Professor Hawking math.  Someone had to acknowledge Stephen Harper is a douche.  Natural talent can not just be assumed, it needs to be, like the mushroom, given shit to do before it becomes part of the cultural salad that we toss each and every day.  

Of course, we all realize that not every salad has mushrooms.  The Waldorf salad has raisins and walnuts.  Coleslaw only cabbage.  The pipe dream that is a Cobb salad has no toadstool upon which to rest its laurels.  Ambrosia contains sour cream, as does the nature of encouraging ability.  Ultimately, the classic Three bean salad, begs the question, who the Hell would ONLY use beans to make a salad?

Gifts, like the appetizers we only pick at, are what we decide to make of them.  We are all very well aware that 1+1=2, but anyone who has ever had sex on a regular basis knows, sometimes 1+1 means you have to pee on a stick and panic for  5 minutes.  Einstein taught us this, he called it Relativity.  It is upon some of these very basic principles that men and women like Stephen Hawking have re-invented how we see the modern world, Thanks to him we now have new and more varied things we can do with our urine.  
We write our names in the snow that is civilization  and so create a new and pissier future for our progeny.  Our genius and bladders help mark the path of destiny.  We wet the appetites of society with industry and plumb our potential with the crap our ancestors left for us.  We hope to be flush, while avoiding the septic tank fullness that makes us all seek refuge in politics.

A great man said, "we stand on the shoulders of giants".  Anyone who has been to a rock concert is grateful for those shoulders and the boob flashing women who sit on them.  When a politician sits we know at least he can't bend us over his desk, and we find comfort.  When a politician takes a stand we wonder who he is going to get behind, and what bed they will share.   When a politician makes a promise, he/she prepares us to live with disappointment. 
In much the same way as we invented insane asylums and prisons, we invented politics to protect us. Politicians are a shining example of society solving the problem of what to do with people who have little or no idea of how to fit into society.  The gift they give to us is a cautionary tale.  An epic of greed, betrayal and incompetence that reminds us there are easier ways to be assh*les.  

So, enjoy your crap, use it to grow, and just remember, when you get that fecal feeling and you think there is no hope... there's always someplace you can share your sh*t and be somebody.  Just remember to wash your hands.  

DaBuoy

50 Shades of OY VEY

If we live in a world that invites us all to have sex, yet only lets us look at porn, I figured I'd sell the bucket and join the flag bearers.  I will not only be a purveyor of porn and the like, I will take a modern work ethic and get dirty with it.  I will join the mental masturbation of modern masses into a string of words and sentences that will tug at their genitalia and give CPR to their nipples.  I welcome you to the first notations of the fictional new non-existent book, 50 Shades of OY VEY.  A creation of the entity known as Meet Rabbits


The men volleyed insults about sexual gormandizing and

crooned like songbirds as she approached. The branches of 

family trees long since dormant wavered nervously as she strode 

forth with the abandon of a schoolgirl who had known pleasures 

and losses in equal measure. Only the presence of courage, luck, 

and bravado would turn the tide of current favour, and like the 

lipstick she refused to wear, they were sadly lacking.

 At a Local "Men's drinking establishment" (meet rabbits)

Would that the whalebone of her corset held so true a

course as the blood pulsing within her nether regions. 

Each drop promising to leave her bereft of moist 

sanity, yet so easily replaced by the heat of each 

embrace. Lips pressed upon each other, insistent that 

the heights reached could only consume them and 

build hostility and illicit stares from the crowd.

Later that day... 

...and when he looked at the grace of her countenance, he was

consumed by a passion that did grow a husbandly bulge in his coin

purse.

can porn replace love... of course it can.  and a horse can replace a helicopter... briefly.  The important thing to remember is that to do so is to disrespect all horses who work in the porn industry.  They are the glue that holds the money shot together.  They are the MEAT in the kibble of desire.  They are the mane stay of our life's blood.  Feed your Love a carrot, sure, perhaps even a sugar-cube, but remember - NOTHING replaces good old fashioned foreplay.. or is that whores-play...  (can I get a Fluffer on the set, please)

Dabuoy

First kiss again

I met this young girl at a bar, and she says to me, "you write poetry, how hard can it be for you to write song lyrics.".
  Admittedly at the time, there was drinking, kissing and a VERY disproportionate flow of blood to places other than the part of the brain that warns against these things, but I thought - at the age of 45, I have very few virgin experiences left and this might just be one of them.  Sure I have rhythm and music, but was she right?  Was something else lacking?
It was then we decided to create a band known as Meet Rabbits...
After meeting again, and seeing each other naked, I told her I would see if I could write a song lyric of the ilk that kids groove on today.  I wrote several versions of Sugar,Sugar, I'm a believer, and I am a Lineman for the County, before finally creating the word salad that appears below.
So NOW with a heavy hand, and slightly sore junk...

The Lucky One

I only left a little scar

No one will hardly notice

Simply apply the make-up 

and smile like a clown

A little lip and lifeless

You could be dull and grey

cover up the truth and live as if,

you never age

I remember a ghost of a hand

where only my wrist is

and I'm not sure if the blood on the floor is mine

Was that a knife

a gun

a bomb

or did you just think that about me

Actions speak louder than words

Fear speaks LOUDEST of all

Can you see the tears of joy

behind the sorrow...

at least we have tomorrow

Chorus

All I wanted was Everything

you could only give me love

All I needed was Everything

you could only hold my hand

I gave you LOVE

and you kept asking me for EVERYTHING

Dabuoy