Valentine’s Day – A History
Back by popular request (and updated), Heath's History of Valentine's Day.
Fluorescent Lighting. Republican presidential candidates. Buying Heath a book called "The Superior Person's Book of Words". Carpool lanes that require more than 1 person in the car. Plaid. What do all these things have to do with Valentine's Day? They are all incredibly BAD ideas.
What drives us to buy chocolates, flowers, and cards today? What causes us to make reservations for the hottest restaurant 4 months in advance? Why do we max out our credit cards each and every year on a day that we don't even get off from work? What are the origins of this false "holiday"...where did it come from...why do people accept and tolerate it...why does Hallmark stock break volume trading records on this day?
Let's discuss.
Editorial note: Whether or not you subscribe to this historical interpretation of Valentine's Day (or whether you actually celebrate it as a "holiday"), this is, in my opinion, the correct version of the truth. Referenced at the end of this editorial, you will find alternate interpretations. Believe them if you will.
Long, long, long ago...1895 to be exact, Rodolfo Alfonzo Raffaelo Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di Valentina D'Antonguolla was born (the smart readers will already know where I'm going with this, and yes, that really is his full and complete name).
Nothing especially special happened for the first 14 years of his life, so we'll skip ahead to age 15: he decided to spice things up a bit and join the Navy.
Unfortunately, he did not pass the rigorous physical exam (running, jumping, climbing trees, hat, flag, bang, stuff like that - snaps to eddie izzard), or the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. Rodolfo was so distraught by the military rejecting him, he took it upon himself to personally maintain a military-like-level of physical fitness.
Daily, he could be seen at 24-hour fitness, sweating to the oldies on the Precor elliptical bike. Of course, the oldies of the 1900's were droll love songs, like Oh Lover Where Art Thou in thine Olde Kingdome, which really weren't written to be danced to or ellipticaled to, but somehow it all worked out. We'll call this fitness fad, Life Event #1 (with more to come).
For three years he worked out and worked out and worked out, eventually developing an 8 pack (due to a genetic aberration that gave him extra musculature that we can all be jealous of).
At age 18, he arrived in the United States, with a heavy Italian accent (unfortunately it was so heavy that he couldn't bring it as a carry on and it had to be checked, and was subsequently damaged enroute even though he'd paid the overweight fee and insured it for an additional $50), which we'll call Life Event #2.
After about a year or so travelling around America, Rodolfo developed a liking for driving cars very, very fast, not dissimilar to residents of LA or Sacramento (but completely dissimilar to the drivers of Oregon's highway 26 which for some reason has a speed limit of 55), and we'll call this Life Event #3.
And finally, as Rodolfo reached the drinking age of 21, he got drunk, broke into Hollywood, got arrested, and was given a job as an actor (hey, a creeping kid, for my new film, The Creeping Kid - word to eddie izzard), Life Event #4.
What have these four Life Events lead up to? The creation of the Ultimate and Total Ladies Man (UTLM) (or one could argue, a man's man). And so the story continues...
Every year, the weather gets cold in America. Typically that time is around January/February, which means that people are bundling up in warmer clothing, burning wood in the fireplace, drinking hot cider or mulled wine, lighting candles, and snuggling under or on top of the bear skin rug in front of the aforementioned fireplace.
In some locations, such as Hell, Michigan (which incidentally froze over in an extremely cold winter of 1995-96, and made the news), the weather is colder than cold, which means that people are snuggling much closer than they normally would. Often, this snuggling leads to interludes of passion, which in many cases leads to hospital overcrowding in the September/October timeframe.
Being the physically fit, foreign, daredevil actor that he was, Rodolfo was no exception to the rules of cold weather and love, and thus he was never without a date for a cold Friday or Saturday night. Women flocked from all over the world to spend time with this fine specimen of manhood.
In fact, due to the ever-increasing number of women who continually invaded his home trying to spend some quality time with him, Rodolfo had a 9-foot-high stucco wall and floodlights erected at the mansion, and also purchased three Great Danes, two Italian mastiffs, and one Spanish greyhound to patrol the courtyard and terrace. (all true)
However, he did actually enjoy some of this "woman invasion", which, due to his...um..."popularity", extended well beyond just Friday and Saturday nights. During the winter months, Rodolfo had to hire a full time assistant just to keep the living room cleaned up from the night before. He had a different bear skin rug for each day, which were kept cleaned and hanging in a special room in the house, which he called the Bear Skin Rug Room (as you'll come to understand as you keep reading, he wasn't the most creative guy in the world).
A full time dry cleaner, who specialized in authentic bear skin rug care was on-staff to monitor and manage the quality of the rugs. Rodolfo certainly couldn't have one of his ladies over on a matted burber.
In addition to the dedicated cleaning staff, Rodolfo also had one of the best stocked wine cellars in the country. Racks and racks of premium Italian wines were shipped from overseas, as well as boxes and boxes of Italian chocolates. In the back yard of his mansion, another full time employee tended to the elaborate rose garden, which included nearly 8 varieties of red, white, pink, lavender, mauve, carnelian, canary and aubergine roses.
Rodolfo (Rudy) Valentino was pretty much set to entertain any number of ladies, each day of the winter months. With a nearly endless supply of wine, chocolate, and roses, he could afford to meet with a new lady every weekday, and possibly two on each weekend day (depending upon cleaning staff availability). But he was faced with a dilemma...
From a day-to-day perspective he had no problem keeping up with the rigorous duties required. He was physically fit, knew how to thrill a woman by taking her on a fast ride on his motorcycle or in the Fiat, and had all the supplies to make for a wonderful evening. But Rudy was never the kind of man to have a one-night-stand without some type of follow-up. He wanted these women to feel special, and to feel as though they had really meant something to him (which they had). He searched and searched for a way to show his appreciation and gratitude to these lovely ladies who had spent the evenings with him.
Fortunately for Rudy, his close friend Hal came up with a way for Rudy to really mark the occasion. Why not send a little paper note of thanks to the numerous ladies, and attach a small personal message in each one? Rudy was very keen to this idea, as he did not want any of the ladies to think that they were not as special as the others, and in fact, he did not want them to KNOW that there had been any others besides them. In this way, he could maintain very positive relationships with all of them, and quite possibly have repeat performances with those whom he found most enjoyable.
So Rudy and Hal set out to write the letters. Unfortunately, Rudy had spent so much of his energy on the evenings of passion, he lacked the creativity to develop personalized messages for so many different ladies. Again, his pal Hal came to the rescue. Hal, being a man of the "creative" persuasion (yep, that's what I'm implying), had no trouble coming up with cute little rhymes or poems which spoke of love, passion, friendship, and pleasure. He spent several weeks sitting out on the veranda of the mansion, writing poem after poem, but making each one unique and special. Hal even had another, better idea.
Why not include a petal from one of the roses in the garden, inside each note? A petal from the same colour rose that Rudy had used on the night of passion. Now he had a card with a personalized poem and a personalized token of affection, which would truly make a mark on the occasion.
Rudy was thrilled! He friend had really come through to provide a solution to the problem. Rudy was a very humble man, however, and refused to take the credit for this creativity. He insisted that on the back side of every card, a small letter H would be watermarked into the paper, in deference to his great friend who had helped him thank all of these women. When Hal noticed the small letter, he asked Rudy what it meant. Rudy informed him that this was the Mark of Hal, otherwise known as the Halmark. Needless to say, Hal was most pleased.
And so Rudy rushed down to the postal office, and mailed off each of the notes to each of the women he had come to adore. The notes arrived, poems were read, rose petals were smelled, and the women knew that they had made a difference in the life of this handsome, dashing man.
As Rudy aged, the number of women he sent these cards to increased and decreased (we all have good years and bad years), but he continued to send the notes, and continued to stamp the small H on the back, even after his friend Hal had passed on.
We continue this tradition today, celebrating the unique style and nature of a man named Hal, who might never have become a published poet were it not for his dear friend Rudy Valentino. And this, is the story of Valentine's Day.
Happy Valentine's Day to one and all 
Another historical, and highly suspect, interpretation of this "holiday" is available at: http://www.sweettechnology.com/theme/valentine.htm
Editorial Comments:
Interview on The Awful Truth, Michael Moore's TV show
Michael Moore: You seem like a very sensitive man - you got married on Valentine's Day. Don't you think you're in the wrong job, being Secretary of Defence?
Secretary William Cohen: Not at all. The preservation of the nation's security is the most important thing. We couldn't write poetry if we didn't have a secure country.
"To write a good love letter, you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say and to finish without knowing what you have written."
- Jean Jacques Rousseau
Maureen
Okay, it's time for another ridiculous short story. And once again I'm happy to say it's FREE!
Who doesn't like FREE these days?
You can pick up a copy of Maureen in a few ways.
Download a PDF right here. There's no password required, just read and enjoy.
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And if you like it in other ways you'll see it showing up on the iTunes Bookstore and the Nook Bookstore pretty soon. And by the time some of you see this post, they will have been there for a long time.
This free book, and more are available at http://heathbuckmaster.com/.
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Silent Kay and the Night Before Christmas
The night before Christmas was a long, long time ago. This fact is rarely disputed even thousands of years later, despite nights being eves and having their own associated celebrations.
But this is not a tale of eves and nights – it’s a tale of a child, more powerful that she could have ever realized.
And so in that time of nights and Christmases there lived a young and precocious girl named Kay. She hardly ever spoke – her shyness so profound as to confuse and confound those who so desperately wanted to talk to her. So they called her Silent Kay (at least, the exceedingly naughty boys who insisted on pulling her hair after school called her that).
On the day before Christmas – neither night nor eve yet – Silent Kay was casually knitting a sweater to give to her mother. The value of home economics was seldom appreciated in youth, but Kay was an appreciable child and therefore knew the value of needles and knitting.
In the midst of her knitting came a knock at the door. Kay frowned in frustration at the callous disregard for her moment of knitting, but gave up her efforts as the knock came again.
Opening the door with a turn of the knob, Kay looked. What she saw on the doorstep was a bold and confusing sight to behold. On the doorstep was a knight – a knight whom she did not know.
What a silly thought I’ve just had, Kay thought to herself. I know no knights to begin with, much less this one who disturbs my holiday knitting. So she settled herself against the door frame and asked, “What do you need?”
“Pardon me,” said the knight. “I’m in need of your help! I have casually yet vigorously scraped my knees and my knuckles. I need a bandage.” He paused for a moment to fret, and then continued his thought. “I have a bandage in my knapsack, but I can’t get it out due to knots in the rope holding everything together! Please can you help me?”
Silent Kay pondered a moment then thought of her knitting. Knots were her thing and she nodded her head as if to say “yes.” She inquisitively wondered why nodding was easier than simply saying, but by the time she was nearing an answer she had already gone to the kitchen to fetch a knife.
“Here let me help you, good Knight,” said Kay. And with expertise in her grip she took knife to knot, and cut it away. “There,” she exclaimed, “the knot is undone. Now let’s find that bandage and fix you all up.”
“Oh, Kay,” said the knight. “You’ve been so kind to me that I must make the truth known to you. I am not really a knight. I am the King!”
This mad revelation caused Kay to go silent. The King at her house? How crazy was that?
“I would like to thank you for helping me, Kay. Especially since you helped me never knowing that I was really not a knight! If you will kneel down, on your right knee please, I will make you a real knight – a Knight of the Kingdom!”
It was the first time Kay even knew she lived in a kingdom, but the sweater would not knit itself, so she knelt down on her knee.
The king tapped her shoulder with his sword and proclaimed, “Kay on this Christmas Eve day, I dub thee a knight. From now on you will be known as Knight Kay.”
And that is how Silent Kay became a Knight before Christmas.
Copyright © 2011 Heath L. Buckmaster - A Christmas story in 600 words.
Thanksgiving – A History Lesson + Video
Courtesy of the Forgotten English calendar, and W. & R. Chambers' Book of Days, 1864...
The great social and religious festival of New England...is a legacy of the Puritans. They abolished Christmas as a relic of popery, and passed laws to punish its observance. But, wanting some day to replace it, the colonial assemblies...appointed every year some day toward the end of November as a day of solemn prayer and thanksgiving. The thanksgiving festival, though widely celebrated, is not so universally respected as formerly, as the influx of Roman Catholics and episcopalians has brought Christmas again into vogue...As a peculiar American festival it will, however, long be cherished by the descendants of the Puritans.
And so there you have it. Happy Thanksgiving all you puritans 
.
And if you're looking for some tips on roasting the perfect bird, check this out.
The Great Halloween Massacre
No ween would be complete without the ancient story of the Great Halloween Massacre, so here I deliver an encore presentation...
Is everyone feeling hella good??? I know that when this special dark day of the year rolls around (not to be confused with Hershey's Special Dark Chocolates), I'm feeling hella great!
Or for those of you with small children reading this, you are permitted to feel hecka great, although hecka great doesn't even come close to feeling hella great.
What a joyous and fun day to celebrate the exhumation of spirits and ghouls and ghosts and zombies that creep out from every tomb and are closing in to seal your doom (word to MJ).
Halloween is my second favourite holiday just after Xmas (although as of 2010 I think it has surpassed Xmas). Third on the list is Turkey Day, and then after that there are no other holidays that float my boat. Halloween and Xmas are the only two major holidays in our culture that require massive amounts of decorations, themed parties, and costuming.
Houses are decorated with strands of orange lights and pumpkins for Halloween, and are decorated with strands of white and multicoloured lights and trees for Xmas.
Halloween brings us carved pumpkins and roasted seeds, while Xmas brings us carved turkeys and hams and an endless supply of side-dishes. For the dark helladay we dress up in costumes that could be scary, funny, wild, or crazy, and for the bright holiday we dress in festive reds and whites in honour of the leader of Xmas, Santa Clause.
Halloween, however, doesn't really have the same official mascot like Xmas. In fact, when we look across the gamut of holidays can you think of any other that has an official figurehead? (and don't you dare suggest the "Easter Bunny") Personally I think it's about time for an officially designated leader of Halloween.
Those of you who are huge fans of The Nightmare Before Xmas may begin the lobby for Jack Skellington, that hollow-headed insane creature who has a fascination for women with stitches all over their bodies. Others of you might feel that because this is the dark helladay, we need a more loathsome, e-ville (as in frew-its of the de-ville) type of creature like Satan, the Devil, Lucifer, Beelzebub, the Fallen One, or some other derivative of the former angel of music.
But this can't be a happy story...we are talking about the dark helladay you know...so let us reflect on that most memorable day in our history...
The Great Halloween Massacre...
Enter my Hella-vision. A massively evil orange pumpkin-man, the size of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from that classic Hellaween movie, Ghostbusters. What other figure could simultaneously cause explosions of laughter, and screams of terror, from children everywhere? They all watch in contorted confusion as the Hellaween Evil Man-Pumpkin (HEMP) comes crashing through their neighbourhoods to steal their candy, decorations, and any child dressed up like a pumpkin.
Panic ensues on Hellaween as children everywhere see the massive pumpkin-man moving toward their city - not knowing what was happening, who it was, where it came from, and why it was orange and as big as the sun. The screaming would echo out through the night as trick-or-treat'ers began their mad dash home while the HEMP took over the terrified population, summoning ghosts and ghouls from the depths of graveyards and morgues.
Eerie bats, who make that WEEE WEEE WEEE sound, fly out from caverns deep in the mountains...vampire bats, swooping down on unsuspecting children picking them up and carrying them into the lair of the evil HEMP. A dark and dirty lair where he passes the time munching and crunching on their delicate bones.
Screams and wails come from all corners of the globe as children race to change their costumes into something other than pumpkins, so that the HEMP will pass them over. Parents quickly smash all of their carved pumpkins into the street, not only in protest and defiance, but so the HEMP wouldn't see the carved mockeries of his next of kin. Orange lights on houses would quickly be replaced with black, so the HEMP couldn't see the scared children hiding behind fake tombstones and witch statues.
HEMP would smash tall buildings, rip out rows of trees, break darns causing huge floods (I'm trying to limit the "language" I'm using - so just say thank you), throw cars around like little toys, express copious amounts of cloudy gas from his pumpkin butt, and generally irritate anyone in the vicinity. After an unnecessary number of hours, the government would be forced to declare a state of emergency.
"The HEMP must be stopped! We must send in armed guards dressed in orange camo! We must send in hella-copters and tanks! We must smite the HEMP and protect our children from the dark helladay!"
But the HEMP was too powerful for the tiny army to defeat (that being the army that was left after the rest of them had been sent across the world to smite a secondary and lesser evil that wasn't even there in the first place) and so the people of the country would unite together against HEMP on their own! (there would be a special referendum that they would vote on, to abolish the HEMP) (and yes I realize that unite together is redundant but this is a hella-story ok?)
"DOWN WITH THE HEMP, DOWN WITH THE HEMP" they shouted, as parents and children armed themselves with pitchforks that were stuck in haystacks in their front yard decorations, and carving knives from the pumpkin carving set, and torches burning bright to illuminate the city in the unnatural darkness of Hellaween.
HEMP crashed into the center of the town, surrounded by an angry mob and blasting his cloudy gas. He grabbed for the children who hadn't had time to change costumes and shoved them hungrily into his gaping, toothy mouth.
The angry crowd chanted, "BURN THE HEMP, BURN THE HEMP, SMOKE HIM OUT!!!". Flames erupted around the HEMP as he tried to jump up a building and get away from the flames, but the force of the parents and children in costumes overpowered him, burning his tender orange flesh. Dark black smoke filled the air on Hellaween, blocking out the last rays of the smouldering sun. HEMP came crashing down in a blaze of glory, a Hellaween bonfire if you will, that sent children and parents dashing through the darkness with costumes and capes blowing behind.
The HEMP got hotter and hotter - he started to expand and bulge, and then suddenly he exploded sending bits of pumpkin and freshly baked seeds flying across all corners of the earth, smacking children in the face and blowing them miles away with the force of the seeds. Ghosts and ghouls flew in every direction with faces full of cooked pumpkin. Showers of orange splattered houses and buildings, trees and mountains, and filled the lakes and rivers with an orange soupy gunk.
At last the explosions stopped. The angry and scared people stood dumbstruck at the carnage around them. People dripped with pumpkin, wandering about looking for loved ones, on this the Great Halloween Massacre. But as the rebuilding process began, and as parents found their children, still in costume but scattered far and wide, they realized that the day had been saved, and joyous cheering erupted from every mouth (along with bits of seeds and pumpkin rind).
"HURRAY, HURRAH, the HEMP IS GONE!!!!!"
The government, satisfied that the HEMP had been abolished, went back into hibernation.
The people, however, gathered round, bringing bags of brown sugar, salt, baking soda, and nutmeg to enjoy freshly baked pumpkin pie in celebration of the defeat of the HEMP. And then suddenly, they realized that the HEMP wasn't all that bad. Yes it had caused some destruction of city property, and yes it had caused people to run around screaming and laughing and doing foolish things, but there had also been a wonderful byproduct of the HEMP...this delicious and wonderful pumpkin pie that they were now enjoying, and the fantabulous baked seeds that they were crunching.
Gradually the crowd turned their wonder into song - "LONG LIVE THE HEMP, LONG LIVE THE HEMP!!"
And so even today, on this special dark helladay, as we remember the sacrifices made by the people during the Great Halloween Massacre, we are reminded that the HEMP really wasn't all that bad.
Happy Halloween everyone, and enjoy that pumpkin pie .
Boo!
Coloured bats, and Prickly cats
Halloween is just around the corner...so here's a spooky little ditty...
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Coloured bats, and prickly cats,
walking down an eerie path
noises fall on dying leaves
children's voices in the eves.
The prickly cat turns left and right
the coloured bat looks through the night
the forest calls them, deeper, deeper,
to the house of Forest Keeper.
Coloured bat sees no one home,
so prickly cat begins to roam,
round and round the house they go,
the children are ready to start the show.
Buzzing gnat flies past the bat,
and lands right onto prickly cat,
the prickles bite and tear and chew
and buzzing gnat is gone too soon.
Prickly cat and coloured bat
grow tired of listening to this and that
so out of the forest they walk and they fly
and stare up into the deep dark sky.
They wonder aloud, what was it I saw
but an empty house and the morning thaw
or did I see something so magic and keen
that nothing before or after has seen?
The Beast
I duck under cover
as the beast comes around,
I breathe very soft
and make hardly a sound
but his powerful smell
and his wandering eyes
will certainly find me
under soft starlit skies.
He's got furry brown hair,
and his teeth razor sharp
and his claws bent so fine
like the strings on a harp,
and he watches and waits
letting no one come near
is he scared of the dark
or perhaps of my fear?
So I watch and I wait,
for his breathing to slow
and his eyelids to close
blocking out falling snow
For it's hard to be brave
with something so rare
but I'm protected tonight
by my soft teddy bear.
Easter. A history.
By popular demand, I present my Easter monologue.
In the spirit of multiculturalism and diversity that has spread through our wonderful country like wildfire recently, I have chosen to dedicate this special blog to the Christian holiday, Easter.
What is Easter? Where did it come from? Is it a religious holiday or a celebration of all things small, furry, and blue/white with big floppy ears?
As a child I remember trying to stay up as late as I could the day before Easter (Easter Eve), so I could catch a glimpse of the Easter Bunny (wasn't it supposed to be a resurrected savior? - never fear, they've now combined the two).
Finally when my eyelids would no longer stay open, usually about 8pm, I fell asleep. After arising the next day (also usually 8pm), I would race to my bedroom door to see what Jesus had left for me. Who knew that Jesus could turn a loaf of bread into a basket of multi-coloured eggs?
I think that's why I'm gay. No, not because a god performed a miracle with the chicken and the egg, but because the rainbow flag was bestowed on me at such an early age. The eggs were red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ocre and peach, ruby and olive and violet and fawn, cream and silver and purple and gold, russet and white and pink and orange and BLUE!
Ok, so I didn't really have THAT many eggs, but those were the colours on Joseph's Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat and they sure were pretty...anyway.....eggs. The basket was full of them. But not just ordinary eggs. These eggs were plastic! I wasn't sure what you did to an egg to make it plastic, but I'm sure it involved a lot of boiling.
Needless to say, I wasn't very careful with them because I knew there was no yolk to spill. What I didn't realize though is that instead of yolk, Jesus had put money and candy inside these eggs! The money was obviously meant for me to put in the offering plate at church, but the candy was all mine!
Jelly beans of every colour imagineable, jujube's, candy corn (I thought these were only for Hellaween!), marshmallow duckies with sugar on top, raindrops on roses and noses on kittens, bright yellow packages tied up with string, these are a few of my fav...whoops! got a little carried away there.
Eggs. Candy in the eggs. So of course I had to eat all the candy in the 2 hours before church. By the time we got to god's house, and what a fine pad he had with a loft and track lighting and candles from Pier 1....anyway...I had a tummy ache. Let's all thank the lord for these gifts which give us gas.
We sang some songs about a tomb and a rock, well, a boulder really, a monolith in fact, Ayers rock if you will....and then something about rising from the dead, but I didn't see what that had to do with candy so I didn't sing along. Finally church was over and it was time for the Easter Brunch. I don't know why they call it Easter Brunch, because by the time we got there it was well after noon, which practically makes it Easter Dinner or maybe Linner, or Dunch.
To further confuse the issue we had exactly the same food as we'd had for Thanksgiving Brunch/Dinner. Apparently the holidays are related, though I don't know why anyone would give thanks for dying on the same day every single year and being put in a cold rocky tomb, but who am I to judge another lifestyle?
So Easter Ludinner ended, and my tummy was even more sore - because now the jelly beans were combining with the baked beans, and the juxtaposition of the two in my stomach was creating a very unpleasant ride home. Somehow I managed to survive the 2 mile trip from cafeteria to bedroom, where I lay on top of the covers moaning in pain. All the while thanking the heavens for the blessings bestowed on me this day.
After a few hours I started feeling better and decided to revisit the Easter basket to see if I had overlooked anything. Anyone who has seen an Easter Basket knows how easily things can get lost in the green plastic grass strips.
I dumped the cash out and stuffed it in my piggy bank and started digging through the Astroturf. Low and behold and ye verily, the mother lode appeared!
Apparently Jesus appreciated me going to church to celebrate his death, because what to my wondering eyes should appear (no not a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer, honestly we should just consolidate all these holidays into one big HOLIDAY, Celebrate! If we took a holiday, took some time to celebrate, just one day out of life, HOLIDAY!)
Logo is Copyright the most wonderful Cadbury
The Cadbury Creme Egg. The epitome of egg. The creme-de-la-creme of egg. The Alpha and the Omega of egg. The great I AM egg.
I held the egg gently in my fingers, careful not to warm it too much so that the chocolate would melt in the wrapper. Slowly I peeled back the foil which held it so tight, revealing the true meaning of Easter. Liquid sugar encased in chocolate.
Forget about all this death and dying nonsense. This was my reason for living. My salvation, my rock. This precious gift from above was to be savored, worshiped, praised. And so like a good boy, I praised it like I should.
In one gigantic bite I split the egg apart, showering my taste buds with the rich and creamy goodness that could only come from such a precious gift. I let the liquid sugar and chocolate melt across my tongue, washing away any leftover taste of brunchinner.
Softly and slowly I swallowed. Always wanting to remember this very special Cadbury Creme Egg, and to never forget the true meaning of the holiday.
Then I promptly ran to the bathroom and showered the god who sits on the white porcelain throne with all that I had been bestowed.
* Easter, like Christmas, is a blend of paganism and Christianity. The word Easter is derived from Eostre (also known as Ostara), an ancient Anglo-Saxon Goddess. She symbolized the rebirth of the day at dawn and the rebirth of life in the spring. The arrival of spring was celebrated all over the world long before the religious meaning became associated with Easter.
A Pair of Shorts – Volume 1 now available
A Pair of Shorts, by Heath L. Buckmaster - featuring two short stories from the collection is now available exclusively on amazon.com. It's readable on your Kindle device, or any computer with the free Kindle app!
In Volume One we present: The Peregryn, and Midnight.
The Peregryn: Marvelous and wonderful things often happen when the night is cold and the moon is shrouded in a deep and winding fog. A light mist of rain can even set the mood for magical and spiritual events.
On my night, the night when these marvelous, wonderful, and according to the barometer, magical things would happen, my luck brought me here to this deserted and lonely place in the middle of the park.
From author Heath L. Buckmaster, The Peregryn takes us on a cold and mystical journey, when the unnamed main character receives a strange letter in the mail. The letter reveals the presence of a watcher, a stalker perhaps, who wants a meeting in two days, and offers mysterious services.
Midnight: Reality can sometimes be more terrifying than a dream, especially when a scream wakes you from slumber and against your better judgement you leave the house to investigate.
Enjoy!
Music Makes a People Come Together
I originally published this in 2003, and it's long, so grab a soda and sit for a while. I felt that during this critical time in our country, when separation is becoming the norm, instead of inclusion it might be time to remind everyone that Music Makes a People Come Together. Because look around...everywhere you turn it's heartache, it's everywhere that you go...
Ma ma se, Ma ma sa, ma ma coo sa. Some of the most expressive words ever put to music (note: these words should not be mistaken for mecca lecca hi mecca hiney ho, which were expressive, yet never put to music).
I want to spend a little time discussing the meaning of this phrase, this poetry in motion as it were and if you will, and the very critical place it holds in the balance of our universe. (note: for the unenlightened, this phrase comes from the great Michael Jackson)
As I am fond of doing, let me first consult the book. I am, of course, referring to the Alpha and Omega of books...Merriam-Webster's Unabridged Dictionary (note: I am sure there will be those of you who are sons of preacher men, and will wanna be startin' somethin' with me for referring to this as "The Book", but nothing you could say could tear me away from my god, my god, because literally, if god was one of us, or if god is a DJ and life is a dancefloor, I think he/she/it would be ok with me making reference to multiple sources of lyrics).
Additionally, I find it valuable for us to slightly condense and/or modify this set of words, to help clarify the denotation, for you the reader. What we would come up with as a more apropos representation of the phonetic is "mama say, mama SA, ma ma coo ça." While the difference is subtle, it will allow us a more cohesive representation of the true meaning of the phrase.
Those of you who were with us back on Mother's Day, learned the origin and meaning behind that very special day and the word mother. This is the term we will begin with. Mama. While technically slang, or baby talk, as seen in the definition below, mama is a perfectly acceptable replacement for the colloquial mother (note: not the mother superior, who is a nun and not a real mother).
Main Entry: ma·ma
Variant(s): or mam·ma /'mä-m&, chiefly British m&-'m[a']/
Function:Â noun
Etymology:Â baby talk
Date: 1579
1 : MOTHER
Who could dispute that some of the most important words of our time would include a reference to the holy and wonderful mother of creation, the mother earth? No one, that's who. And if they did, then they obviously don't believe in life after love and aren't a part of this great and wonderful boogie rhythm nation that we call the United States. Because we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy. (note: the attentive reader will notice that mama is a noun, and we all know that a noun's a special kind of word, it's any name you've ever heard, and you might find it quite interesting, a noun's a person place or thing.)
Next, let's schlemiel and schlimazel our way over to the word "say". While you may think you know what this word means ("Why yes, I do! It's the present tense of the action verb to say, meaning to verbalize thought through the mouth!"), you really don't. The book defines say as:
Main Entry: say
Pronunciation: 'sA, Southern also 'se
Function:Â verb
Inflected Form(s): said /'sed, esp when subject follows s&d/; say·ing /'sA-i[ng]/; says /'sez, sometimes 'sAz, esp when subject follows s&z/
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English secgan; akin to Old High German sagEn to say, Lithuanian sakyti, Greek ennepein to speak, tell
Date: before 12th century
transitive senses
1 a : to express in words b : to state as opinion or belief
You will notice, no doubt, that this verb stems from numerous languages, and is therefore an important word in the world. Expressions and beliefs are some of the founding notions of our information society. The first amendment of our constitution provides for the ability to freely express our beliefs, without retaliation or condemnation, no matter how divergent those beliefs may be - it's an up thing. Kinda makes you think...Baby, I'm the lucky one. Obviously, society has found the great value and importance of the verb, say.
(Editorial note: I had to pause at this point because my phone was ringing...it was Rhiannon from Vienna calling...)
Next we see that the reference to the holy and wonderful mother of creation is so important, our phrase repeats it again.
So next up is "sa". If you were to capitalize both letters to "SA", you might wind up with the city code for San Antonio, Texas. You may be asking yourself at this point, Who's Johnny? Or you may ask yourself, what does our phrase have to do with Texas, being that we're talking about words of IMPORTANCE here? If you were to ask yourself these things, you'd be talking to yourself, quite possibly sharing the secrets that you keep while you're talking in your sleep, which is a sign of insanity, and you obviously have too much free time and are probably sitting around on the beach drawing circles in the sand. But what else could these two letters mean or represent? Again, let us look to the book.
Main Entry: SA
Function:Â abbreviation
Latin sine anno without year, without date (everlasting, eternal)
Well of course! The holy and wonderful mama, who speaks and expresses thought and belief and understanding and compassion without judgment, does so without end. World without end. Everlasting and eternal beliefs. Everlasting and eternal creation. The meaning is so obvious, if it were a one eyed one horned flying purple people eater, it might have bitten us.
Next we come to the doublet of ma's. While you may be tempted to attribute this to the contracted slang for mama, don't (note: at this point you probably wish you could turn back time and not give into the temptations, but you can't, so you're just going to have to face the music and hope that love will save the day). This word has rich meaning in and of itself. Once again, let us consult the book.
Main Entry: ma
Pronunciation: m[a']
Usage:Â foreign term
Etymology: French
: my
This is truly a very interesting word to be incorporated into our phrase. My. Clearly what we see here is that use of a foreign language is critical in identifying that our phrase is for ALL people, not just for those of us who speak English as a primary language (note: obviously our phrase is encouraging us to go west, and shake our groove thing all across the world).
Additionally, by selecting French as the language of choice, our phrase adds a touch of class and refinement to its meaning. Additionally, on top of the previous additionally, the word "my" represents ownership, belonging, membership, self realization. As we all know, self awareness is one of the key factors to determining life, as defined by Star Trek, so let's go Star Trekkin' across the universe, boldly going forward 'cause we can't find reverse. The ability to be aware of one's self, and one's place in the universe created by the holy and wonderful mama, is critical to the understanding of our phrase.
Next we come to one of the more interesting words in our phrase, "coo."
Main Entry: coo
Pronunciation: 'kü
Function:Â intransitive verb
Etymology: imitative
Date: 1670
1 : to make the low soft cry of a dove (which is representative of love and peace)
2 : to talk fondly, amorously (a love profusion)
You may have initially thought that this was a contracted form of cool, cootie, or Hacoona Matatta (what a wonderful phrase). It is not, so don't. This word is big, it's beautiful, and you're gonna love it! Representative of peace, love, care and fondness, one should not be surprised that the holy and wonderful mama who eternally speaks of compassion and non-judgement would be juxtaposed with this word. (And in case you didn't know, mother earth's love is better than chocolate) This word is not dissimilar to a ray of light, cutting through the darkness of the world, and illuminating us with a higher love. Love is a many splendid thing. Love, lifts us up where we belong, all we need is love. You should already see that all things just keep getting better in our magical phrase.
Finally we come to the final word.
Main Entry: ça
Pronunciation: s[a']
Usage:Â foreign term
Etymology: French
: it
You will note the diacritical mark on the first letter of this word, as again, we note the use of a foreign language to remind us of the worldly nature of our phrase. Also you will note that the word is again in French, reminding us that the French are very important in the world (Voulez-vous danser avec moi?).
A phrase can never be complete without a blend of both first and third person. As we noted before with "ma" translated to "my", there is a word which represents the self, the oneness that we feel when we look at the man in the mirror and see ourselves staring back at us with the look of love. Here we are seeing the inclusion of the third person "it", which represents not the masculine, not the feminine, but the neutral.
In the eyes of the loving and wonderful mama, we are all equal, we are family. Not created differently than anyone else, but created from one and the same. The use of the word "it" reminds us all that despite our differences, we are all uniquely unique in our uniqueness. (note: at this point you probably wish you could take one moment in time to ponder this paradox, but you can't, so keep reading)
And so, accepting this phrase as exceptional, meaningful and the whole truth and nothing but the truth (would I lie to you?), let us take a brief moment to explore some of the other musical ramifications on life. Not all music is positive and happy. While the phrase that we have recently analyzed gives us a sense of peace, life, meaning, goodness and grace, there are those bits of word put to music, which fall into the "e-ville" category.
Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand, creatures crawl in search of blood, to terrorize ya'lls neighborhood. And whosoever shall be found, without the soul for getting down, must stand and face the hounds of hell, and rot inside a corpse shell. The foul stench is in the air, the funk of 40,000 years, and grisly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom. And though you fight to stay alive, your body starts to shiver, for no known mortal can resist, the evil of the Thriller.
Ok...what the H-E-double hockey sticks is THAT?! Calgon, take me away!
(Interjections HEY show excitement YEAH and emotion WOW, they're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong: ignore for a moment that the above lyrics are from one of the best songs of all time and stay within the world of "e" with me a bit longer)
I'm sorry, but that's just plain SCARY! I hear those words and I"m no longer one of the shiny happy people. I'm in the world of terror, pain, fright, death, and am screaming lonely in my nightmare. When Thriller first came out on video, I was in my middle school days of roller-skating-mania. Every free weekend a group of kids would go over to SportsWorld (which several years later was converted to an ice rink and renamed to the Ice House, which is also a brand of really cheap and repulsive beer, but anyway), and spend several hours spinning right round baby, right round like a record baby right round round round.
Sometimes, the DJ would stop the music, tell everyone to don't turn around (Oh!Oh! der Kommissar's in town Oh!Oh!), and skate in "reverse". This was often a good thing to balance the blisters we were burning on the inside of our ankles. Down in one corner of the skating rink, was a huge movie screen that would descend from the rafters, like a Deus ex Machina, whenever they decided to play a video. Additionally, there was a huge shiny disco ball hanging in the middle of the rink, with little white lights pointed towards it, to provide a glittering light show on the floor. (note: there was also an ultra-cool snack bar that sold hot dogs, burgers, dirty pop, and cotton candy, but this isn't really integral to the story, so I won't mention it)
Being that Michael Jackson was mega-popular with the middle school crowd of the 80's, it's no wonder that the management at SportsWorld capitalized on the captive audience they had, and played the video as often as they possibly could. And this wasn't the stripped down video, this was the full length mega-video. In case you weren't aware, Thriller was the first music video to actually incorporate a plot and spoken story line into the production. In fact, the video starts off with MJ and his girlfriend (note: this may have been Billy Jean, or Valerie, who later turned into a bad girl toot toot beep beep talkin' bout the sad girl, but we don't know for sure) taking a little stroll, and coming across a very scary place...a graveyard with zombies and ghouls from every tomb, closing in to seal their doom, (note: notice how the e-ville creeps into everything, even my commentary) and having nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
The video was amazing. Everyone on the skate floor would stop to watch the hero of the movie suddenly grow fangs and start moon walking across the tombstones. Little did we know, that very early in our young lives, we were being introduced to the influence of "e" on the musical industry.
Ironically, there are those who believe that just because the former-archangel Lucifer was the former-angel of music (just call me angel, of the morning angel), that he has a direct influence on our lives by making music inherently e-ville, but that's just a big load of malarkey, and the only people who believe that are people who obviously got a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day, never lose a minute of sleeping worrying about the way that things might have been if the devil had a blue dress on...oops, I did it again and got a little carried away there...back to our phrase...
By now it should be clear that the human population should rightly hold our phrase as the new mantra of celebration and unity (and while we're at it, we might as well take a holiday and celebrate). We may not be movie stars, but when it comes to being happy, we are, and a day should never pass that we fail to kneel in front of our crosses, pentagrams, tetragrams, octograms (note: not to be confused with an octagon which would represent a stop in the name of love sign), polymorphic shrines, a father figure of a squatting Buddha, or any other icon which is representative of our own personal beliefs and gives praise to the new moon on blue monday.
I encourage all of you to get up offa that thang, reach up for the sunrise, jump for your love, and sing with me now (note: try to avoid singing this out loud at work, because with these compressed office cubes, voices carry) ...
The world goes round and round but some things never change...the joy of living, joy of life, joy of laughing, joy of sight, the joy of Pepsi in your life, the joy of bubbles, joy of fun, the joy of Pepsi on your tongue, the greatest taste sensation under the sun. La la la la la, la la la la la...
Sites
The official site of Heath BuckmasterLast Six Shorts
- Valentine’s Day – A History
- Maureen
- Silent Kay and the Night Before Christmas
- Thanksgiving – A History Lesson + Video
- The Great Halloween Massacre
- Coloured bats, and Prickly cats