Caligula – A Case For Re-examination

What do you think SirGay does after catching a cold during the hottest days of the year? Ha, he comes here, of course, to fuck with your brains, my darlings. That’s right, you better get some ice. You will need it!

During all this hot delirium New York City’s streets were breathing on me, your dear darling saw a dream with Kirsten Dunst. That was a bit random, I’d say, but okay. In the dream, her poster, where she poses as Marie Antoinette, was mutilated by a group of savage actors, who apparently, I found out that in the dream, hated her guts. Dear Plastikoff knew, his brain was triggered. That’s right, my darlings, my mind was going completely bonkers in this heat, add to it a running nose – a freaking running nose! – and you have ze Plastikoff back with his new (some people might think) deranged thoughts about, well, this time, Caligula. Oh my dear flying ducks, Caligula!? And what the fuckity fuck made him think about the Caesar? Well, first of all, it was hot, like in Rome hot. Second of all, Caligula was/is considered as deranged as your dearest Sir G. or is he? No, really?

Well, since ze Plastikoff had nothing better to do apart from making sure his sweaty balls didn’t stick to the chair, he created a case for Caligula. I am here to prove to you all that he – gasp! – was the sanest of them all. Oh, I can feel your temperature rising. You can’t wait to tell me how wrong I will be about the Augustus, but simmer down a bit. That ice bucket I told you about, yeah, grab some ice from it and make a mimosa. Now listen to me and to my oh so genially put case. I don’t even know what the expression in court is, but whatever, I’m Russian, so there, I make my own rules. I am going to prove to you that Caligula was as nice as me when a breeze goes through my balls on the beach, that is (smiley face).

Where do I start with all this mess, because I did get distracted by Hellen Mirren’s tatas and this six foot dick one of the ladies in the film was sucking for at least a good thirty seconds? I watched the film for the first time on a big screen, so yeah, I forgot to count for how long this debauchery lasted. This entry is not about the film I occasionally re-watch for educational purposes on my old VHS tape, even though it was inspired by the naked Malcolm McDowell’s tush. Oh my! Sir McDowell was running in the rain, making all kinds of moves, naked and not afraid, playing the efing Caligula. But see, this is where we get really confused. We have so many takes on the one and only Caligula that it is quite easy to get distracted by all these dicks and vaginas flying around, because, you know, the orgies and what not. Well as long as everyone is vaccinated and enjoying themselves, who am I to tell what is good for them? Should I put another smiley face here, or should I wait for later? Oh well, smiley face! I know you’re having a hard time reading these long-ass sentences (giggles – “long-ass”).

I am here to entertain unlikely thoughts about things that might not look the way they really are. Just to prove my point about the information we have about the Caesar and how it was, most likely, tailored to please a certain group of people, I am going to ask you to talk to somebody who doesn’t like you. Ask what they think about you. You, most likely, will get a contrasting picture of yourself from somebody who appreciates you. I have a very strong suspicion that Caligula at some point of his reign got crushingly bad yelp reviews, so all got real fetid real fast afterwards. Historians who wrote books about Caesars were people close to them, meaning, they were a part of the ruling class. But why was Caligula portrayed as some kind of blood sucking monster who slept with animals and raped the oh-so-vulnerable rich wives of Rome?

There were a few things in the book by Suetonius about the twelve Caesars that didn’t make sense to me and sounded a bit, in the words of today’s popular “literature,” sensationalistic. My first conflicting question was aroused after I read about Caligula’s disappearance from the environment Caesars supposed to always be in. Apparently, Gaius escaped to the populous, to the simple people, and stayed with them for quite some time. Evidently the crowds really loved the Caesar. On one hand you have this love coming from the plebeians, but on another Suetonius is painting Caligula behaving like a monster against the elite after returning to the palace. Suetonius “suggested” that Caligula might have contracted some kind of disease while being away. Did he contract the empathy or the compassion bug? Hmm, that is possible. These two are “crazy diseases” no ruler should ever have. “Clearly” because of that “disease” Caligula made the wives of the high-ranking senators at the palace prostitute themselves. He took their “hard earned money.” Oh my goodness, was he taxing them? Oh yes, he was! He behaved with the rich and the powerful the way they abused the populous. Well, of course, that was unprecedented and it could not be tolerated. The patricians in the senate had to make Caligula an example of how you don’t behave with your own, so the future Caesars don’t get similar ideas, because, well, who wants these socialist emperors? Uh-uh not them! Caligula at that time was at his most revolutionary age. The senators made sure that Caligula’s image was tarnished forever and ever, well until ze Plastikoff and his genius was born, of course, ha!

The next thing which didn’t make sense to me was Caligula’s sleeping with his horse and his alleged sexual relationship with it. Well, my dears, you are for a treat here after I tell you that horses sleep standing up. If you see a horse on the ground, it is, most likely, sick or just about to die from old age. Suetonius thought this little detail will fly over the heads of the readers of his book. He miscalculated my mind and my love for animals.

Here is another detail for you, Caligula was a short man. How do I know this? Well, I don’t and nobody does, though some “sources” today say that he was a tall man. Hmmm, but his nickname was a “little boot.” That’s right, Caligula means “little boot,” you mimosa drinking farts. Was he involved in bestiality and fucked his horse? Hmm, it could be, but I don’t think so. Remember, “little boot” means “small.” So how did he do it? Suetonius doesn’t provide the details. Bummer!

Did Caligula love his horse more than the people who surrounded him at the palace? That is for sure true. Horses are lovely animals, but Suetonius went a bit too far with the horse loving idea making it sound as if Caligula was a terrible terrible human being, who abused horses, because, you know, he built stables for them as beautiful as rich men’s houses. This horse was, most likely, his best friend, so it makes sense for Caligula to have it around in his castle, or whatever his apartment was called at that time. There are some folks in NYC, still to this day, who keep crocodiles and tigers as their pets. Do you think Caligula would not do the same? This bitch had all the money and power? Why the fuck not? What really pissed the senators off was the fact that he made his favorite horse a senator too. Now that was a kick into their balls. Ouch!

And then there was his sexual attraction to his sister, or even sisters (plural). Now, where do I start with this mess? If you really want to hurt somebody, say something so outrageous about the people they love and you are on your way of becoming one of those, I don’t even know the name for it. A “little” fact that he married Cezonia, a loose woman from a whorehouse, who gave birth to a daughter conflicted with this story of Caligula’s incest involvement with his sister. The whole family was killed though during this bloodshed the rich created after being overtaxed, because, you know, that’s how you rolled at that time. You didn’t like papa, you killed his children. But was Caligula really fooling around with his sister? Well, that we will never know. They both are dead to prove Suetonius wrong, but what is clear to me, Caligula had a healthy sex life which, yeah, could sound quite outrageous for some sex fearing people, but at that time having orgies was a norm. So, my dear Suetonius, you will not scare me with your stories of supposedly nasty perversions Caligula had. You were, most likely, excluded from these parties and felt hurt, so you made it sound the way you made it sound. Sorry, but the elite used you and made you write all this outrageous fiction about this damn Caligula, just to make them look good in comparison. Oh, also, a question, how the fuck do you know so much about Caligula and his behavior? Your book was written a century after his death?

Caligula, by the way, didn’t go to any war. Can you fucking believe this shit? An Emperor who values human lives instead of profits? This son of a bitch just sat in front of a lake or whatever and watched his soldiers collect shells on the beach. He must be crazy and must be destroyed. Well, sure watching soldiers swim happily made Caligula look crazy and… they did destroyed him.

It is clear that whoever wrote these historical entries about Caligula, was not happy with him. And who can be happy when “your people” are behaving the way they are not supposed to behave. You don’t rob your own. You don’t rape your people’s wives. That is what you do to the people who have no power. The ones who go to jail today are the poor and the rich who stole from the rich. When a capitalist thief steals from a poor person they say, oh this doesn’t make sense, I can’t rob a poor person, I am rich. If you don’t believe me, I can pay you to believe me, because I have money and money is power. Now, when a rich thief robs his own buddies, uh-ho, this becomes a problem, because the truth is on the side of who is richer. But the thing is, you are both rich, so what do you do? Well, let’s go back to Caligula. Imagine the confusion the high ranked farts had when the emperor who had all the power and all the money suddenly decided to level himself with the lowest of the lows, the poor working class? That emperor must be out of his mind! This “legend” about Caligula’s madness all of a sudden got pushed into the “news.” Of course, the madman has to be removed from the power. He doesn’t serve the rich anymore. Aagh, he serves the people! This can’t be! This is blasphemy and all these big words the powerful say wanting to intimidate you.

The system has not changed. In a society where the money rule, money can buy anything. How can any civilized society talk about morals when the main incentive for people in the power is to stuff their pockets with as much money as they possibly can? Caligula was critiqued that he didn’t go to any war. Instead, he decided to sit in front of a lake and watch half naked soldiers run happily around. That must be an absolutely clear sign of insanity, because look at all these wars we have to fight, look at all these countries we need to rob, because, you know, they are the “others,” which automatically makes them the enemy. Oh, and then there is the gold and all that shiny shit those countries have.

When somebody as powerful as Caligula sees that the real enemy is not the people, that the problem lays inside, that somebody must be killed, because he knows something we don’t know (as if). The confusion sets in, the revolution is just about to happen and we all know what happens when a revolution happens, the heads roll of the shoulders. Oh damn, ze Marie Antoinette! ze Kirsten Dunst and ze chaos sets in. The power becomes accessible to anyone, literally, to anyone! That is why it is so important to make sure that the future emperors learn from Caligula’s example. You do not go against your own. If you do, you are going to be called a horse and sister fucker, which, by the way, would be fine if you would still go to wars and rob the poor, then your horse fucking is the rule of the empire… And I thought I was going to talk about the film.

Sometime ago I went to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC. They have a bust of Caligula there. This is what was written under this bust:

“The portrait style created for Augustus was adopted by his family and immediate successors in order to stress the unity and continuity of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. This fine bust of Caligula (r.A.D. 37-41) has regular features and carefully designed locks of hair, similar to those in portraits of Augustus. Here, however, the artist has also conveyed something of Caligula’s vanity and cruelty in the proud turn of the head and the thin, pursed lips.”

And who the fuck writes this shit? This is again one of the examples how we are manipulated to believe in certain things. What I see is a bust of a young, beautiful face, of somebody who was made into a monster, because he didn’t follow the rules of the rich, but instead was looking for the Moon.

My case is closed, my dears. Now I need to fart a bit, so excuse me, I am leaving you with that melted bucket of ice. Check if your head fits in it.

“Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom” in the Two Toed World of Thoughts and Prayers

Oh my dear darlings, the fallen leaves of last year left on the ground to rot. I know you missed me, as much as I missed the stench of clogged sewer holes of New York City. I would be still quietly enjoying this gooey muck the mad, mad world is spreading around like some kind of cow shit on the fields of freedom if not for somebody finding the picture of my innocent toes (gasp!) worth of removal from the Internets. Boy, oh boy, they are going to be not sorry they stepped on my two crusty chicken fingers. They woke me up like that bear I ate last winter (long story).

You see, all would be cool and dandy and I would be still posting bare assed celebrities on social media, but the removal of one of my personal photos from the Facethingy I love to stick around and watch how the facts disappear and opinionated flat earthers become the messiahs giving the free ranged “thoughts and prayers” was a bit too much. My two titsy-bitsy toes caught somebody’s attention. It was utterly appalling. The unimaginable happened. I looked at my toes as I have never looked at them before. Oh you naughty little things. How dare you prostitute yourself around like that. I put my feet into the crocs, two and a half sizes too small, and… damn, I needed to calm myself down, so I went to my vault of the most calming movies ever made and re-watched the delightful film of them all Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom, because, you know, that’s how I protest censorship.

Oh my dear darlings, if you just knew how this film calms me down. When the times are unsure there is nothing more enjoyable as watching some prune faced fucks (pardon for my French) torture kids. It is almost like watching a reality show shot somewhere at the Mexican border. I mean, there is a reason why raping, killing and abducting kids for prostitution and organ harvesting is so in vogue today. Just look at this film Pasolini created in 1975. He got killed before the premier of the film though, so there is no way for us to find about all these fashionable traits we are experiencing today, but the evidence he left behind in the film might reveal to us the mystery of it all.

Salo, o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom). Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Subject and Script: Pier Paolo Pasolini and Sergio Citti. Criterion, 1975, (that’s right, my darlings, you will need to read the subtitles, but you might be distracted by some titties, a random ass fuck or your upset stomach, so the subtitles might become the last thing you will worry about.)

The movie is divided in four parts “The Antiferno,” “The Circle of Madness (or Manias),” “The Circle of Shit,” and “The Circle of Blood.” Every circle is constructed as Dante’s “Inferno” deeper you go mushier it becomes.

In the Antiferno four men sign a paper where they decide to get married to each other’s daughters. (Oh, just look at that, the incest right from the top of the film, but there is more, no outsiders allowed to join the most exclusive club of them all!) The Duke, The Bishop, The Magistrate and The President are the rich and the powerful who will decide who will live and who will be punished during their “reign” in Salo “republic” they create. They have four libertine women to help them to achieve what their sick minds are imagining. They recruit four well endowed men as their guards (and occasional fucks) and go to the country side for…

Nine girls and nine boys are chosen during the Antiferno part. There are naked titties and penises flopping around. These “creators of jobs” are inspecting each girl and each boy. They are not interested in spending on no insurance, no. Perfect health and dental hygiene is checked on each of the teenagers who stand as some kind of cattle for sale. They are looked at, touched and otherwise humiliated by the four. It seems like there is no dental plan to be splurged on, so one of the girls is out of the picture, after it is discovered, she is missing a tooth. After the inspection is done, the boys and girls are collected into a truck and transported to their future job site. If I would not know when this film was set, I would have thought these boys and girls were taken to one of those places which name sounds like that forest in Brazil. Oh, there is one boy who jumps out of the moving car, but he finishes with a bullet in his scull. Poor lad, he thought he could escape the system.

In the Circle of Madness we see the chatto (fancy French name for the “castle”) where the victims will be living for the rest of the film (the rest of their lives). They are introduced to the rules. The four read them, as would a priest read the commandments in the church. They sounds pretty much like these agreements you must sign. If you don’t follow them, you will be punished. The first punishment drops in almost immediately. A girl who prays for God suffocates in front of His image. Poor girl, it seems like she didn’t read to the end of what she was signing for. She looked at something inappropriate on her wall. The Facething chocked her to death, thus banned her for life. (Oh my goodness!)

The first madam is introduced with her mad stories of sexual perversion. The behavior of the four is out of the proportions. Though, can you believe it, but this circle is not as bad as the circles which will follow it. In this circle an occasional rape with occasional nails in your soup or an occasional bullet in somebody’s skull are like this breakfast coffee with a croissant you might enjoy, though no coffee and no croissant is going to be served because…

In the Circle of Shit there is nothing more important than a piece of shit. It is served on a silver platter during the shit eating fiesta. The second madam tells her sexy scat stories. Nobody can poop before the party, because, hellooo, no turd can be wasted. It is the main dish on the dinner table, mind you. Of course, one of the girls could not hold it anymore. So she left a little tootsie roll in a poo-pee pot and oh my, my, she ended up with the rest of the punished girls and boys in a tub of browny delight, literally bathing in it, while the others enjoyed the shitfest with an occasional ass fuck as if that’s how you throw a party, all perfectly normal, don’t you think?

The Circle of Blood is not for the weak. The last madam is there with her blood and gore stories of pleasure. After she finishes her last tale about bloody this and bloody that, the four prepare themselves for the big bloodshed where all the punished girls and boys will be tortured and later killed. During this part the piano player silently commits suicide by jumping out the window (ups!) Two boys, after being fondled by the Duke or the Bishop, I can’t tell it now, dance a slow dance while he watches through the binoculars how a tongue, an eye, and scalp are cut by the other three on the square outside of his window, which reminds of a pigsty with the kids running around naked in the mud. All of it is performed in silence and in the distance.

The film has all the things that show how lovable the human nature is. Who could deny torturing kids while some “proper” ladies in their most expensive ballgowns tell us how they were taken advantage of by one or several “proper” gentlemen and how much they liked it. I mean, they tell first world country’s problems, but still. Oh, Pasolini, how dared you show the high society in such a light. You should had known not to step on anybody’s toes (aha, the toes!)

Not sure how far you can go watching this film? My darlings, good news, we are living in it today. Isn’t fabulous? What are these mass shootings or occasional wars we don’t even know why we fight anymore in comparison to all this fun we see in this film. There are always thoughts and prayers to be sent somewhere. It’s not like we have to go to a post office and buy a stamp or something. It’s all free and we can do that while siting on the toilet. Click click and we are done. You might feel a bit queasy after learning about some random immigrant dying somewhere at the imaginary border, very reality TV I would say, but to feel like somebody just stuck a metal rod into your brain, scalped you off and popped your eyes out of the sockets with the kitchen knife is what we are aiming for, don’t we? Besides there are always opioids to be prescribed by doctor this or doctor that, you know. These lovely rich, hard working people, will prance on your bleeding guts after they skin you and leave you to bake in the scorching sun after paying you the “minimum wage” because, well, that shit they were serving you on the silver platter was full of nails, so be happy the price for the nails was not deducted from your paycheck. My darlings, no crocs will stop you from leaping out of the window the way this piano player lady did by the end of the film, because, well, you just have no insurance to pay for all this wonderful madness. But, I mean, how dared she leave you without her piano music.

My dear darlings, after emptying my bowels quite a few times (that might actually do good for my figure!) I realized that maybe these pruned faced people who pretend to be so proper, shitting on the golden toilets, really are preparing us for a similar party. Aw, how very considered of them, don’t you think? Isn’t delightful how all is decided for us? There is no need to be a hero the way this boy at the beginning of the film was. Do you really want to escape this madness you are forced to encounter? You might finish with a bullet in your scull, if you try something stupid, like protest or some shit like that. Oh, you would be such a waste. There is so much potential in you, so much young skin to be skinned, so much torture to be experienced. The big pharma would really miss you. Many might say, you are lucky if you end up with the bullet and I say phf, they don’t know what they are talking about.

This film will be hard to swallow. If these kids can eat the actual shit while being raped and tortured by these very few who have the power, you will be just dandy. Pasolini ended up with his member out in the mud with an open fly and his scull mushed in as if it was a deflated ball. His body was ran over by a car a couple of times, because, well, with this film he stepped on those two toes he was not supposed to step on.

Is this a film you have to watch? Absolutely! Should you watch it with your date? Sure! Especially if you are trying to ditch that date and be written off in their phone book as a pervert. I tell you, every time I am around this film, I put it on. See, it saves me breakfast. (Smiley face)

Oh, and here is that picture of my two sexy fish sticks! Go ahead, get your rocks off, I don’t mind, neither do they. Tah-dah!

Nothing about Nipples, but I Got Your Attention: Sony Reads “The Producers,” Releases “The Interview”

Alright my dear darlings, finally I got drunk enough (again) to be able to say something (again) about something.

I am going to say three things:
Sony
The Interview
The Producers
Sonny tanks, reads The Producers, makes the film The Interview. Everybody screams in fear (ha) and flops to the “theaters” to see the above mentioned film. Bravo PR people. You need to get a raise. The world’s best publicity campaign. End of the story (smiley face).

Oh yeah, you can discuss it here.

but… I woke up on this sunny New Year’s morning and realized that I have this chocking need to elaborate on whatever f*ck I have said in this entry last year. It is quite uncomfortable to write these words right now while still in bed and having a hangover. But you know what, my darlings, I am realizing that I am less and less tolerant to some bullshit somebody else is trying to make me to believe. So I am going to give you my own bullshit so you have something to compare with. Which bullshit stinks more, you decide.

What upsets me the most is that the other bullshit is making me an angry duck. Yes, a duck who wants to nip you in your privates when that above mentioned bullshit is overflowing. Well since this is my blog, I feel like it is my duty to flush this bullshit with some “proper” English dipped in Russian vodka. Hmmm, now that I think, maybe the vodka is making me this angry? Who knows. When you have dipped your brain in it, some crazy diarrhea comes out on paper. Yes, I wrote this whole thing on a piece of paper, so bite me! Ugh, you see how angry I am and this is happening on the very first day of the New Year. What is going to happen on the tenth day, I wonder? I am a little afraid for you, my dear readers. Switching between alcohols might prove that I have become completely insane. And you know what? IDGAF. Scratch it, IDGA Duck. You already thinking that I am insane anyways so here are no surprises there but you might start believing that I completely went nuts after you read what I have to say about all this hacking business going around. My darlings, it is not a secret for you anymore that I like finding some things where they might not be. I cannot help myself, my brain, when it is swimming in alcohol does something to me and the next thing you know I find myself swimming in thousands of words about something that might prove my insanity and insanity of others like you, thank you…

Now, since I have warned you, let’s talk about all this Sony slash North Korea business.

When I heard for the first time about Sony being hacked by North Korean hackers because of some film, I was like, uh-oh, or rather my brain was like “uh-oh, hot dog.” If you know where this is from, five points for you. I don’t know why five points? It seems appropriate to give you that credit on this early morning.

So okay, “uh-oh, hot dog” happened and I found myself thinking what a brilliant idea to advertise a film which actually deals with North Korea. But then my brain got its own “uh-oh, hot dog” thing about some tax break loopholes, mind you, and I went… Wow, wow, wow, brain, stop it. This is a completely different topic, nobody is going to understand what the f*ck you are talking about… And it said, give me more vodka.

Okay, my darlings, I don’t remember what exactly I was doing when I heard this excruciating news about Sony’s privates being exposed by the good ol’ buddy North Korea. I also have absolutely no idea what is happening over there, behind that heavy curtain of Socialism and I am not going to pretend that I am not ignorant, but come on, you need a little bit more than that to convince me that North Korea suddenly saw a film which was only seen by a selective few behind closed doors and… and realized shit… yes, literally they realized that they are in a deep shit. This is how bad this film was. And it could happen that then the producers even wished that North Korea had something actually to do with the creation of this film, but… okay, brain, you need to return, you are not going to get vodka there. Liquor stores are still closed. You are out of luck. It is a New Year’s Day. Come back, my darling, and let me finish this whole… I don’t even know what to call it… thing I am writing now?

It seems my brain’s back. Talk to me, darling… My brain says, go f*ck yourself. Ups, you again, went to the wrong direction. Come back. (yeah, I know, this makes absolutely no sense)

My darlings, you see how I have to trick my brain back into thinking? Voila! The smell of “Farbreeze” I sprayed around the dirty dishes in my sink did the job.

So, where were we? Oh, that’s right, Sony realized that the film stank, ha ha! I knew that “Farbreeze” had something to do with it. The producers of The Interview were just about to lose a lot of money and… as we know, this cannot happen, because, you know, who wants to go bankrupt and start paying all these taxes as all of us do? Not Sony, no. So Sony needed a plan, a good ol’ promotional trick to trick every one (well maybe not every one) into thinking that the film is so great that even North Korea, all three people with computers there, saw it even before the boss of Sony did. Yes, I am being a complete ignorant duck saying that there are only three computers in North Korea. There might be five or maybe even six of them. Forgive my ignorance North Korea. What can I say, brain, it is still thinking that what it got was the real thing when I sprayed myself with the above mentioned “Farbreeze.”

My darlings, here comes the most exciting part in this hacky-backy story. Sony needed to have a meeting and have somebody like me who just recently watched an oldie but goody film The Producers in their camp. And Eureka! They did it. They found that somebody who brought to the table a book “How to Make Money While Making a Flop? – Producing Films for Dummies.”

Phh, to convince the media that Sony was hacked was a piece of cake. Remember this guy?

http://www.marketwatch.com/story/high-school-student-scores-72-million-playing-stock-market-2014-12-14

Alright, that’s easy. It becomes even easier when you have all these millions you set aside for the promotion of the film. So the little guy who came up with this brilliant idea to take a few pages (well maybe not so few) from The Producers and make the trick happen… and the “promotion”, brilliant as brilliant as the brains of writers who wrote the original script of The Producers, began. Sony needs to give you a cut Mr. Brooks.

So what happened next? Oh the media ate the news about North Korea’s hacking into Sony’s system. It ate it and asked for more or rather started baking “the news” themselves about a country almost nobody have visited. And what do we know; The Interview became the most talked film around the town. Listen, even I, who lives without a TV, heard about it, so machine was working and it was working oh so well. Of course there were needed some “sacrifices” made, but when you know that quite a few people are going to download the film for free anyways, you say f*ck it, let them have it. Let’s show how “generous” we are. Even after these terrible warnings the film came out to theaters and, what do you know, the threats suddenly stopped coming in. They magically disappeared till, of course, the next time another film needs some push.

Oh my darlings, I wish I knew what that next time is going to be. My brain is still high on “Farbreeze.” It could be that we will start talking about somebody’s ass again, but that’s already old news, right?

I am sure I left quite a few details here, but be my darlings, rent The Producers and have fun with it. Comedy is a powerful tool. It makes you laugh. Uh-oh, Hot Dog!

A Spoonful of Sugar or My Four Dollar Story

We all need some sugar in our lives, but sometimes we have no money to buy at least a few spoons of it. This entry is about times when we find ourselves in a dark place.

I have no fucking idea how to write about this topic and my temperamental “t” is still stuck on my keyboard as if saying: “I got your “t” so where is your sugar?” Ha ha, it would be funny if it would be funny, but…

I am here to tell you a story. I was debating if I should write about my dark times, but Plastikoff would not be Plastikoff if he would not use the drama in his life for a good cause.

Yes, my darlings, yours truly Plastikoff was quite in a ditch last week. The feeling of uncertainty lasted way too long. I got fed up with all this bitterness. I needed some sugar in my life.

I am not really sure what was the main reason why I was feeling the way I was feeling. It could be that my extensive drinking had something to do with it, or it could be that I made some stupid mistakes while being under the influence and was not thinking about the consequences I would face the next day (who wants to think about consequences when they are having fun anyway, who?). But it happened so that I found myself not only financially but also emotionally broke.

This is not an entry for people who are looking for somebody to tell them how to behave or what to do when depression strikes, no, and believe me, I am the last one who calls depression “depression,” but it happened so that the darling one hit me in my balls, or at least I thought that these were my balls (smiley face). Suddenly everything went dark, or maybe that was the bulb of my table lamp that got busted, I don’t know, I can’t tell it now. It’s eight o’clock in the morning when I write these words. I am drinking coffee. Ha, that’s right, yours truly is not drinking Port at this hour, but is enjoying the bitter taste of black beverage which makes my fingers type as fast as I can and my ass run to the bathroom every five minutes. And where is all this water coming from? But back to the topic.

Darlings, to speak about depression is quite depressing (I can’t find a better word for it) so I am just going to tell you what made my dim table lamp turn into a bright winter’s sun in a flick.

That’s right, my darlings, I might have accepted for myself that being involved with anything arts is a waste of time and that I might never get anywhere close to be rich to afford to buy a house with a garden, I might. Well, that’s what some people might want me to think and I think that got me last week. Yes, I might be a walking cliché, a starvin’ Marvin O’Farts, but there is always a reason why I am here and why some things happen to us.

I want to make sure you understand that I might be joking about things like depression or suicide, but those things are not funny. The way I deal with topics like that is my way of communicating my feelings to myself. I don’t think that there are many of you who want to read about people I knew who ended their lives before their time? I don’t think there are, because… well there is no “because.” It is what it is, but there is always something that each of us need to figure out for ourselves to be able to continue with living.

I realize that this entry is not as funny as I wanted it to sound, well, hello, the subject, what do I expect?

Last week I found myself not to be able to afford living. I am pretty sure you had one of those days too. I would think that being without money should not scare me much since I grew up during the biggest economical depression in post Soviet times. We had to learn how to survive on a few pounds of sugar per month which you could only buy if you had a special piece of whatever paper indicating that you are a human. You’d say, well this is not a big deal, who needs pounds of sugar per month for their tea anyway?

Having enough sugar is a big deal when you have a garden bursting out with all this harvest as we had in my family. Yeah, it was quiet depressing to hear my mom say that we cannot afford to make preserves from our garden full of fruits and berries, because there is not enough sugar for that.

Thankfully that time has passed. We knew what starvation was. We read books about the Leningrad (Saint Petersburg now) blockade during the WWII. A little deficiency of sugar didn’t let us down, but tough us how to deal with situations like that.

Last week my phone got disconnected because I had no money to pay for services. I was behind my rent and with two carrots in my fridge. I found myself completely shut from the external world. I was not even sure if I had enough money on my Metro card to go to a possible work which I could miss because of my phone. I had twenty one dollars in my wallet and four dollars and forty nine cents in my bank account. They were not enough to cover my forty dollars phone bill.

First of all I was not able to get those four dollars and whatever cents from my bank account because it had to be a least twenty dollars available to do the transaction. My fear got my heart going and my balls dropped and got trapped somewhere in between my knees and a hole in my long johns. It seemed that there was no way for me to do anything about the situation. Even though everything looked dark on a bright winter’s day I knew that there should be a way to get out of this situation (maybe I just needed to buy a new bulb for my table lamp, maybe?). 

After a long discussion with myself I decided that I needed to pass by the place where I pay for my phone. I went inside thinking maybe I could somehow ask them for a credit of some sorts, I don’t know, something. I looked at the table inside of the store and saw an offer which made all the difference in the world. The offer said that I could get my phone back for twenty five dollars. Boom, I received a message from whoever is manipulating our lives that everything is going to be okay, but, there was one “but,” I was still missing those four dollars that were frozen in my bank account. I needed to get somehow those four dollars out of my bank before they charge ten dollars for holding those four dollars for me.

This is what happened next: I went to the bank, deposited sixteen dollars and took a twenty out. Boom, I had a nice twenty five dollars in my wallet and forty nine cents in my bank. My mood jumped and I was back.

So my dear darlings I wanted to share this with you, because we all need to figure out for yourselves how to get those four dollars from our accounts, be it for a bus ticket or some sugar to bake some cookies. The challenge is always there and it always has a purpose. Share your four dollar stories here. I want to hear how you got back from your dark place and how you have managed to retrieve those four dollars for your future.