The opiate.

Forty Lent Suggestions

Ah, Fat Tuesday. A day that makes my Louisiana borne blood wish for bouncy jazz and bouncier tits. The grandiose parades, the crazy costumes, the people who normally would never be seen in by others in their skivvies dropping trow and raising shirt for plastic trinkets that will be lost before stumbling back to the hotel for two hours of sleep before round two begins.

However, that is just what I like about Mardi Gras. That and those wonderful Packzis, which I can enjoy now that I have found a baker who eschews lard. And which I can eat by the dozen thanks to my unique metabolism and general non-chubby state. Sorry, I am getting of track, thinking of boobs and Packzis can do that to you. What Mardi Gras actually is supposed to be is an advent of Lent, right? Please forgive me, I am a horrible reformed Catholic. All I really can say about Lent is that you are supposed to give up something you like for forty days. I am sure that is a rather glib and flippant interpretation, but that is just what it is sometimes, Jeeves.

I have been encountering friends, Catholic friends, whom have been wondering what to give up for Lent. None of them have liked my suggestions, some have even been a bit offended. That gave me an idea. I should write out some of my ideas here. Maybe even try to get forty of them.

Forty Things to Give Up for Lent:

1) Chocolate
2) Caffeine
3) Sugar…ALL sugar
4) Meat
5) Combing or brushing your hair
6) Swearing
7) Television
8) Sex
9) Brushing your teeth
10) Driving
11) Washing your hair
12) Work
13) Bathing
14) Showering
15) Bathing and Showering
16) Bacon
17) All red foods
18) Deodorant
19) Cosmetics
20) Nose picking
21) Justin Bieber (automatic entry to Heaven if you give him up forever)
22) Beer
23) Alcoholic beverages
24) Smoking (if you can make forty days, congrats! You are a non-smoker and have extended your life. Tell me how you did it so I can do likewise)
25) Masturbation (Or is that still considered sinful, and should not have been something to give up in the first place?)
26) Pickles
27) Standing in line (Simply tell people you have given it up for Lent and move to the head of the line. It will work out well. Trust me).
28) Facebook
29) Your mobile device
30) Being negative
31) Smiling (Your dourness would impress the most ardent of Stoics!)
32) Looking at breasts (If you chose this one, you have already blown it.)
33) Jealousy
34) Any weapons you own (What could possibly go wrong in those forty days?)
35) News media (Just the major news, go indie, baby!)
36) Vice
37) Shaving (This includes: face, legs, armpits, back, etc.)
38) Underwear
39) Your technology
40) Using paper

Enjoy the next forty days.

Friday Night with Charlotte

Last week was quite a week. It started with scandal and ended with an ugly attempt to discredit The Foundation. The scandal was a bit of ugliness involving The Foundation’s war elephants. While it seems that the issue should have been over quickly and with a few payouts here and there, that was not to be. Fortunately, I had a fun night out with Charlotte the Friday before the treacherous attempt to ruin your beloved charitable organization.

I could go on and detail the incidents that led to the horrors of the weekend, but instead, I have decided to go the honest route and provide the transcript of a local news programs morning interview of yours truly.

Bert Berterson: “Good morning. I’m Bert Berterson appearing on this special edition of ‘Samurai City Saturday Morning’ with local mogul, Xavier Rothe…”

Me: “Mogul?! What the fuck did you call me? I am not a snowy lump on a ski slope! Nor am I some brandy sipping curmudgeon sitting by some fireplace in some cavernous, drafty, Victorian mansion. I am a humble orchard operator and general all around nice guy. I am really tired of your slander and libel. You really need to get over that camera incident with Manthony.”

B.B: “No, that is not the issue. True, there have been ‘incidents,” but they aren’t what this interview is about. We are here to discuss the elephant rampage that you and your associates with The Rothechilde Foundation are responsible for causing, avoiding, and admitting no responsibility.

Me: “Berty darling, that is exactly what I am talking about! Okay, so unfortunate things may have happened. People may or may not have been allegedly had the misfortune of standing where an elephant may have been walking. Whatever the case, there is no need to start throwing around faulty, unproven allegations that could result in a hefty lawsuit or potential burying in a shallow grave in Nevada or somewhere.”

B.B: “Did, did you just threaten to kill me and bury me in Nevada?”

Me: “I have done no such thing! I was merely stating things that could happen to a person. I have never gone to Nevada. The sand would destroy my wardrode, I believe. Speaking of which, I have been experimenting with adding color to my wardrobe…”

B.B: “Let’s not get off topic, Mr. Rothechilde, Xavier, may I call you Xavier?

Me: “I would not if I did not want to get ‘punished’ severely.”

B.B.  “Ahem. Before we begin, let’s refresh your memory. Ronald, roll the footage please.”

At this moment, a clip was played that showed a large group of people hanging about Downtown Samurai City. In the background, the Foundation Thunderdome stood majestically in the background. In the foreground, more people. Then the clip cut over to the ass-biscuit that I was currently being tormented by in this interview. Mr. Berterson was interviewing people who were “Occupying Samurai City.” Yes, the wave of civil unrest and general unhappiness of the populist poor had spread to Samurai City and the occupiers were occupying various areas of the city. This was exactly why we at the Foundation came up with the idea to have the war elephants. The occupiers had not come as far as the Thunderdome, but a group of counter-occupiers had begun to head in our direction. These counter occupiers were those who supported the one percent or something like that. Berterson interviewed a few of them as well. Approximately two minutes into the clip, a wave of people could be seen coming toward the camera. In the background, the image and sounds of a herd of elephants rapidly approached the news crew. Fleeing to a safe area (who knew there was a safe place from a herd of stampeding elephants?), the camera still recorded, Berty-baby’s panicked reporting in the background:

Bert: “This is Bert Berterson! A herd of elephants is now rampaging in downtown Samurai City! People are running everywhere as complete and total pandemonium has erupted! Oh my God! An elephant just tossed a police car into the side of the bank! This, this is terrible! Absolutely terrible! Hey! Someone grab that little girl! What the hell are you talking about? You do it! I’m Bert Berterson! I’m not getting stepped on by a freaking elephant! What the hell?! Is that elephant wearing a monocle and a tophat? My God the police have shot the elephant in the tophat! Tophat elephant is down! Holy shit! That elephant has that old lady by the neck! Wait, wait…the elephant has gently set her down. People we have a miracle, the elephant just set her…Shit! He kicked her! The elephant kicked her! Oh my…oh my…she’s, she’s barely moving. Paramedics are trying to help her. Okay, she’s giving the thumbs up. What? Headed where? Oh shit! Run! Ruuunnn!!!

And the clip ended there. To be honest, I was very upset by that footage. There was not one mention or shot of Sister Constance and the nun-wranglers coming in, taking down the rest of the pachyderms with tranquilizers and getting them safely back to the Thunderdome. Two elephants were slaughtered by the man on that tragic day. The monocle and top hat have been turned into monuments in the arboretum.

B.B: “Now, Mr. Rothechilde, clearly you could see what a tragic series of…hey! Are you texting?”

Me: “Yes, you were boring me with that biased video footage. There was no mention of the nuns and their success at bringing this unpleasantness to an end. Not to mention you subjected me to having to witness the brutal slaying of the vainglorious Lord Phant, a pachyderm of distinguished character and with obviously superior fashion sense. I was consulting our legal team to be sure that my comments will not be taken out of context and that the video delay is sufficient for Foundation security personnel to edit out any sensitive information before this hits the airwaves.”

B.B: “What?!”

Blue Boy?

Me: “You know, like they do on awards programs to filter out the potty mouths. Anyway, about fashion. As I believe we were discussing briefly earlier I have been experimenting with making changes to my wardrobe. I have been adding color. Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of me in the lavender and purple, or gold-brown-black, but I do have a picture of me in blue. Ronald, show the clip, please. As you can see, instead of my trademark black and white two-piece combination, I am sporting a stylish three-piece suit. I even have on a blue tie. Blue! And took a picture that I did not insist be made black and white or some sort of old-timey sepia look. Eventually, I will have some photos of me in the other color schemes soon, and I may come back to your program to discuss them again at that time. However, thank you for the interview, it has been a pleasant…”

B.B: “Excuse me, sir! I tell Ronald what to do around here, and we weren’t discussing fashion. We’re here to talk about your reckless unleashing of elephants on our fair city and what exactly you plan on doing about it! You have some things to answer for sir!”

Me: “I do no appreciate your tone, little man. Now see here, if it were not for those stupid one percenters parading about in their diamonds and smelly perfumes, the elephants would not have gotten upset and that misfortune would never have occurred. The elephants were simply a part of a parade that The Foundation was sponsoring in support of the “Occupy Samurai City if You Want, But Stay the Fuck Away from the Thunderdome” rally. As you can see the rally was a success, the Thunderdome is untouched and still stands as a glorious symbol of compassion and beauty. And we are not even going to sue the city over our beloved Lord Phant. Although it has caused Sister Constance a great deal of sorrow. We had to give her an extended vacation, pay raise, and purchase a new elephant, monocle, and top hat to alleviate her lust for revenge.”

B.B: “Are you saying that the life of that elephant is worth more than the hundreds of people that were injured in carnage laid out by your elephant horde? Are you seriously equating humanity with lower animals?!”

Me: “Well, hypothetically, my statement would appear to be putting elephants above the rest of humanity, but then who needs to be splitting hairs here? Besides, no people were killed, and only a few were maimed or otherwise seriously injured. Further, the occupation business was horribly bad for the already weakened economy. Those people should have been out working and those one percent counter-protesters should have been out subjugating masses or otherwise managing some means of economic oppression. The fact is, those protesters were in all likelihood unemployed; do we need to show the world on the national news that we are a nation of corpulent, unemployed people? No sir! No, I say! If our impoverished looked like those pot-bellied Ethiopians, then maybe we would have something to bitch about. However, we are a corpulent nation that sits on couches and and gets to watch seventy-seven different versions of ‘Law & Order.”

B.B: “Mr. Rothechilde! That is completely reprehensible! Do you even hear yourself? Listen, the Vice President of The Rothechilde Foundation has even come out and said that mistakes were made…”

Me: “Yes! Mistakes were made. Many mistakes! Chief among them was letting that bastard out of the dunge…er, basement during the protests. Had he remained sedated and properly confined, our efforts to fix this bit of unpleasantness could have come to an end much sooner, and I would already be enjoying the adulation of the citizenry of this fair city instead of sitting here and subjecting myself to this horrid interview from a man with the fashion sense of a Mogwai.”

B.B: “What are you talking about?!”

Me: “Your suit is terrible. I know a guy, let me help you, baby.”

B.B: “You’re obviously out of touch. With me and the citizens of Samurai City. They don’t love you, no one loves…”

You are very welcome

Me: “Oh my! I ought to shoot you right in your ugly face! You smug son of a…excuse, what is it? Yes, I understand. Excuse me, that gentleman was one of our attorneys, he suggested, and smartly I should add, that by ‘shoot you right in your ugly face’ that I actually meant “write you a sternly worded note of disapproval, perhaps an email cc’d to your station’s management. As for the love thing, surely you are mistaken For example, take a look at this lovely bit of art; Ronald, show the picture please.”

B.B: “Now see here! Ronald is not one of your lackeys…”

Me: “Obviously, the artist appreciates me and felt that I was worthy of being immortalized in one of her brilliant creations. And then there is Sister Constance. For a nun, she really does go out of her way to accommodate my eccentricities (I am ignoring your lackey comment, by the way. Manthony with surely discuss that with you.) Then, and not the least, there is my personal secretary, whom does me an innumerable amount of service in great variety, and makes sure that I can function on a daily basis. And Charlotte! Dear Charlotte! Why just last night, we went out to a local titty bar…”

B.B: “You can’t say that on public television and this has nothing to do with the elephant incident.”

Me: “I believe I did just say that, and this has everything to do with the elephants. There is nothing better to ease the pain of a deceased elephant friend and huge publicity hit like going out to see some boobs. And this was a great night. There was s lady there named Suzie Malone. She did some classy burlesque dance, magic tricks, and she swallowed a sword. Man, that gave me ideas, I tell you! She even danced around with fire. Fire! Strapped around her waist and in the shape of hand fans she danced with fire. I even had my picture taken with her. It is a topless picture. I am not topless, she is, or else I would have brought it to show. I am not opposed to showing the boobs on television; I just do not want to share them with you.”

B.B: “That is all well and good, sir. But what does any of this have to do with the damage you have brought and the poor people that are suffering because of your mistake?”

Me: “You just really want to beat a dead elephant. Man. Fine. While it is unfortunate that a few people may have received a bump or two because of a few rambunctious elephants, we are not a bank, mortgage company, or publicly traded corporation with stockholders to rape and pillage. The government will not bail us out like they did the people who the occupiers are bitching about (is that what they are bitching about? or is it Obamacare, Afghanistan, gay marriage, or Rick Santorum’s tranny porn stash?). No, as always in these trying time The Rothechilde Foundation will rebuild the damaged property. We have already purchased some of the more severely damaged property and found locations for business owners to rebuild and relocate. We have even offered to allow these business to use the Foundation’s contractors for repair and construction and infrastructure at prices that are much lower than the local business clowns. We are hiring many of the disgruntled occupiers for this Samurai City Reconstruction, and all of this will benefit the local economy. Lord Phant did not perish in vain.”

B.B: “It sounds like all you are doing is making a selfishly greedy cash grab and attempt to increase your personal stake and interest here!”

Me: “And is that not the American Way? Thank you, Samurai City and good day. This is Xavier A. S. Rothechilde, signing out.”

B.B: “Hey!”

And the screen goes black…

Note: Mr. Rothechilde has always reveled in, and proudly proclaimed his status as being a hack writer. If you disapprove of the ending, then you were not paying attention to the original disclaimer. No refunds or apologies should be expected and none will be made.


Rothechilde Foundation and Trust Legal

Reading the News: A Few Items That Caught My Eye

If you are a person whom happens to be familiar with my typical blog entries, you would also now be a person whom has noticed that my posts have not been particularly “Xavier-y.” For the unitiated, or newy initiated, this means that my writings are hardly deserving of the dark, pseudo-gothic satire that it is supposed to present for your reading enjoyment. To be completely honest (which may imply that typically I may not be completely honest…but that is neither here nor there for the time being), I have been off of my game a bit as this is a new blog, and I am still figuring out the basics of formatting and establishing a group of readers; my previoys MySpace audience is non-existant and the Facebookers just avoid the blogscene methinks.

As a result, there have been few new tales of the adventures of the Foundation Board of Directors, my brushes with those who are victims of the establishment, my wonderful, black Alpha Romeo that has been tricked out to look like a coffin, etc have all been brushed aside as things slowly progress here in this new style and format. While the new tales have been few, the news has been much…and alarming.

The CNN story that first caught my eye was that of Christian Choate. Actually, the very first thing that caught my eye was a story about the tornado that decimated Joplin, MO, but I had already watched that on the news as I prepared to head to the Thunderdome and was not a part of my online news fiesta. Anyway, Christian apparently was killed by his father and step-mother and no one knew about this for two years. No one asked or searched for the kid. The siblings in the house kept quiet as their parents kept this boy caged and beat him regularly and eventually to death. The main question is the title of the article: “why did no one know the boy was missing?”

That is what gets me the most. Here in the State of Michigan, we have been banned from smoking in bars and such, it is extremely difficult for teenagers to driver’s licenses, and we get charged an extra fee for being an irresponsible driver added to any driving infraction. Basically, the government here is always in our faces. Having an economic edge keeps The Man out of my face for a minute or two, but there he is nonetheless; all up in my grill for little shit. And the Feds are not much better – The Big Brother (also The Man), is so occupied with sexual reproductive rights of individuals, regulating the private lives of homosexuals, and protecting big banks that foreclose on homeowners like crabs on a hobo-whore that important things like a little boy who suddenly disappears goes unnoticed. I understand the family claimed he was homeschooled, but if we have sat and allowed the State of Arizona to pass Nazi legislation that can demand that any person of color “show them their papers,” then at least someone could have politely asked: “what happened to that one boy who used to live here?” They claimed he ran away; I had always assumed that parents looked for their children. I guess you would not if he was supposed to be caged…

Yesterday, I wrote about the lack of the Apocalypse, and how said non-event disappointed my plans to hunt zombies. While denied the living dead skeet shoot bonanza, I was able to find out just what those who were expecting the End are now thinking since the day has come and gone and it seems that everyone is still here. Apparently, while they are disappointed )and some are probably wondering what they are to do since they quit their jobs and made plans for the hereafter), they are taking solace in the fact that the dude who predicted the Rapture was a victim of his age old foes: arithmetic and science. You see, it appears that our non-Doomsday prophet has made this assertion of the End of Days before and was thwarted by forces of reason and education:

“Camping, a degreed engineer (not a pastor) who claims to have made the Bible his “university” for more than 50 years, has experience with failed prophecies. He once claimed the world would end in September 1994, later chalking that snafu up to biblical miscalculations and the need for further study. This time around, he said earlier this year, he had no doubts.”

After re-reading that, he miscalculated something Biblical; I was mistaken in my sarcastic snarkfest a couple of paragraphs ago. However, I do feel vindicated: a man who has studied a the University of the Bible for fifty years should be above such mathematical error when making biblical calculations. And he should know enough to know that assuming he was going to be taken and not left should the world have gotten all Rapture-y is a bit arrogant, and he should have made preparations for those of his followers who gave up everything so that they could join him in going to Jesus’ crib. In the end (which, I guess it is not), Harold Camper predicted the End and left to meet that end. However, I have to ask myself if he gave up what his followers gave up in order to move on from this world. I mean, he has a job still, correct? And I am certain that he still has his cash to keep him comfortable until he dies. For those who gave up everything only to discover that you are now not getting everything in the afterlife and are staying in the here and now, take solace in knowing that throughout history, people have been predicting the Apocalypse. I am sure that you are not the first to now find themselves broke, jobless, and homeless, but still faithful nonetheless. Besides, as the article points out, there is still hope for the end to come…keep your head up.

Now, for the most exciting part of this post! So exciting to me that I just had to use an exclamation point at the end of that sentence. It just so happens that while I was getting all excited about the prospect, I may not have been accurate prepared for the plague of zombies that would have been ripe for the hunting as I was predicting/hoping for this past Sunday. I should have seen what the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had to say about being properly prepared for a Zombie Apocalypse. After reading the article, I quickly made sure that the Thunderdome was adequate prepared for an assault from the living dead and then drove back to my Estate to see if I did have the items needed should I be at home when the zombies strike. As it turns out, the only thing that I was missing were the extra gallons of water. As a precaution, there are now very many gallon containers stored in the Thunderdome basement, and the facility is fully prepared for a zombie invasion. Kudos to the CDC for raising awareness in the coolest of ways. I think that has been the most interesting thing that I have encountered online in a long time.

“It’s the End of the World as we know it, and I feel fine…”

Just when I had thought that it would be safe to venture out and about, I learned that the Rapture scheduled for yesterday never came to pass. At least that is how it seems to be going down at this time. Really? All of the preparations that I made for today have been thrown to the wind and completely discarded. Thank you Harlod Camping for ruining what would be my first opportunity to go hunting.

However, I was elated to learn that Judgement Day was at hand, according to Mr. Camping, and come Sunday morning when all of the good Christians were taken wherever they were going to be taken, there would be a host of left-behind Christian zombies to plink away at while otherwise enjoying an oddly quite day. Not being a Christian has its advantages; apparently we “nons” are ignored in the grand reckoning to come. That is, unless we are considered heretics or non-believers and therefore deserving of punishment with the left-behinders…which I certainly doubt.

So, it was this morning that I awoke to discover that everything apparently was the same as it was when I went to bed last night, and the Rapture was not late, it seemingly did not come to pass. At least that is what Christians who were down with that idea may be thinking now. I offer a different take on the subject, suppose the Rapture did come, and all of the Christians that are wandering about now are ones that were left behind. What if there is not one single Christian who is deserving of what was allegedly supposed to come last Saturday a couple of hours after lunch? What if all of the Christians walking, driving-running-biking, about are actually not fit for hanging with the J-man?

That is not something for me to say. I am a bit of a narcissist, but I am far too intelligent to assume that I could begin to know the mind of something that I would call “god.” Particularly if that god is supposed to one that is transcendent. That which is situation above and separate, can never be truly understood by that which is below. Fortunately, my view on diety does not include the requirement or dogmatic assumption that my gods are transcendent; diety walks through and with me always, it is a part of my experience and I am not one to wait around for my religion to experience me…

And the world still turns. The sun rose, the sun set. The moon glows above and the wind howls about as a storm brews on the horizon. Instead of Christian-zombie skeet shooting, I have to be content with another walk to the range. It seems that my target practice will still be inanimate bulleyes and statues of hated enemies stored and silent in the range in the back-end of the orchards. The walk ought to me a nice one: the new grape arbors look wonderful against the white blossoms that are now raining about thanks to the high wind. Man. It would have been a great night to hunt zombies.