If any poor schlub who wants to get any minimum wage job is required to take a drug test, why not the candidates for the so-called most important office in the land?

Aristocrats ... First!

Three missionaries — a Catholic priest, a Rabbi, and a Buddhist — are working zealously to convert a fierce isolated native tribe in the remotest jungle. 

After some time spent trying to get the natives to convert to their respective religions, the chief gets fed up with the lot of them and has his warriors apprehend them.

The chief turns first to the Rabbi and says, “You have offended me and my people with this religious nonsense. You are wasting our time and are distracting my people from important duties of hunting and collecting food. You have two choices: Death …. or the Aristocrats.”

The rabbi says, “Well, I’m certainly not ready to die . . . and, while I don’t know who these Aristocrats are, I’ll take the Aristocrats.

Instantly, thirty of the fiercest warriors in the tribe come running over, each one more fierce and stronger than the next. One by one they begin violating the rabbi in the most heinous and unspeakable ways. This goes on for hours. And, finally, the rabbi is left in a heap, completely wasted. Just a small step away from his death.

The chief then turns to the Catholic priest and says, “Okay, now it’s your turn. Do you choose death ... or the Aristocrats?”

The Catholic priest says, “Well, I’m no stranger to this sort of abuse, I have to atone . . . let it be the Aristocrats.”

Again, the warriors come racing out. And again, they decimate the unfortunate priest in the most vile and depraved fashion. Hours pass. But eventually, it’s finally over. The priest is left unconscious and unrecognizable. But, alive.

Lastly, the chief turns to the Buddhist, who is understandably repulsed by what he has just witnessed. “Now it is your turn,” says the Chief. “Which do you prefer, death ... or the Aristocrats?”

The Buddhist responds, “I believe we are here on this earth for a short time, and a little extra life means nothing to me. I have just witnessed a horrible, unspeakable spectacle, and I would rather die and keep my dignity than to choose life at the cost of hours of inhumane torture and humiliation. All is illusory and transient anyway . . . I choose death.”

The chief nods. “I understand and accept your decision. You are a brave man, and I grant you your wish. You are hereby sentenced to death.”

“But first ... the Aristocrats!”

But, first ... the Aristocrats!
Come on Down*! There's a place I know ...

*And, by "Down" we mean down and dirty. 

Yes, in the all but certain soon to be presidential reign of one Mr. Donald J. Trump, in a world were political correctness will be banished, Dave's Dirtie Boogie Cafe is the place to be.

At Dave's, bad behavior is not only condoned, it is expected. Otherwise, take a walk! And, anyone found taking offense at anything seen or heard on the premises will also be shown the door. 

But, as the sign says, "JUST KEEP THE PANTS ON".
OK, ladies. I get it about that female empowerment.

But ...

Call me an old fashioned kind of guy, but when a lady coordinates well ... well, I like it.

And, don't even get me started on those gloves. When did gloves not become part of being well dressed?

Even, scantily clad there's such a thing as showing up prepared and empowered:

Image result for fembot gif
There's a Clock in the Window

Out for a stroll early Sunday in the old part of town a tourist sees a shop with a big clock in the window. It's open. The fellow's watch is broken, so he decides to go in and have it fixed.

“I don’t repair watches,” states the proprietor. “I am a mohel. I perform the ceremonial circumcisions in the Jewish tradition.”

Flabbergasted, the man rejoins, “But, you have a clock in the window!”

“So, mister, tell me ... what would you put in the window?”

How To Meditate


Special Note: Unless you have the flexibility to sit cross legged effortlessly, it is recommended that you sit on a flat firm surface like a wood chair. Like the gentleman pictured below ...

Outside / Inside

I may appear to be outside your inside. 

But, that outside is my inside.

And, it includes your inside ... and, your outside.

For the Fascia Studies Reader ...

Fascia's Self-Healing Mechanisms?

Source: Leon Chatow Facebook September 11, 2016

Next Friday, at the Dutch Osteopathic Conference in Utrecht, I will be presenting on a topic related to treatment of fascial dysfunction. One element of that presentation will involve discussion of new research (Dittmore et al 2016) that has identified fascinating aspects of fascia's self-regulating/self-repair mechanisms.
A brief introduction to this is also given in my next Editorial in JBMT:
Here's a sneak mini-preview:
" Dittmore et al (2016) have described evidence that collagen operates a self-healing process involving what they term “cleavage-vulnerable binding regions”. These vulnerable sites are arrayed periodically at ∼1μm (one millionth of a meter) intervals, along collagen fibrils.

• Collagen fibrils contain billions of minute sites that are vulnerable to buckling – if internally or externally derived forces fail to maintain optimal tension.
• Buckling exposes collagen to specific enzymes (MMPs) at these cleavage site, allowing the enzyme-related degradation and subsequent repair process.
• Dittmore et al explain that these dynamic molecular changes in collagen structure – that were previously not detected by means of conventional structural investigation - were readily observed through tracking of enzyme binding, which “may be on the order of single atoms” 1
• The presence of strain-driven defects may have general and widespread regulatory repair and maintenance functions in self-assembled biological (collagen) filaments – with the possibility that externally applied load - via exercise, or the imposition of compression/shear force/stretching etc-being capable of influencing this apparently constant process.
• It is of interest to note that these self-regulating processes operate via mechanisms that are independent of the nervous system. In reality the process is dependent on force transmission/load transfer, fluid dynamics and mechanotransduction mechanisms (amongst others)
Dittmore et al describe the significance of their findings as follows:
“Collagen fibrils resemble nanoscale cables that self-assemble and constitute the most prevalent protein structure in the body. Our experiments reveal unanticipated defects that form along collagen fibrils. These defects are the initiation sites of collagenase activity and represent a strain-sensitive mechanism for regulating tissue remodelling. The emergence of defects, their spatial periodicity, and fluctuations are quantitatively accounted for with a buckling model in which defects spontaneously form, repulsively interact, and self-heal."

The Dittmore et al findings have important clinical implications for manual and movement therapies, and raise a number of questions, such as:
>>> In what ways may internally generated forces – for example – associated with rhythmic pulsations, contractions, peristalsis, respiratory activity etc – influence the tension-status of associated collagen?
>>> How does force transmission, via muscle-fascial connections, influence the tension status of associated collagen?
>>> In what ways might exercise, and/or movement therapies (Yoga, Tai chi, Pilates, Feldenkrais etc) influence the tension status of associated collagen?
>>> In what ways do externally applied loads, via manual therapies (massage, osteopathy, chiropractic, physiotherapy etc) influence the tension status of associated collagen?

Some answers are already emerging....

Chaitow L 2016 New evidence of a dynamic fascial maintenance and self-repair process http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jbmt.2016.08.013

Dittmore, A et al. 2016 Internal strain drives spontaneous periodic buckling in collagen and regulates remodelling.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (2016): 201523228
"When the heart is right ..."
Seeing to that, it's a thing, you know.

When the shoe fits, the foot is forgotten.
When the belt fits, the belly is forgotten.
When the heart is right, "for" and "against" are forgotten.
No drives, no compulsions, no needs, no attractions:
Then your affairs are under control.
You are a free man.
 ~ Chuang Tzu

DIY Dave ...

As you will see from the accompanying video there's a proper way to do your duty. 

DIY Dave just wants you to know that you have options when it comes to devices to raise the level of your poopiness.

Cousin Rosko

Second Cousin Rosko Wronski was a recording artist. Quite famous actually. Looks-wise, he took after his dad: Harry, aka "Horndog Harry". While pater wasn't much upstairs ("Brains painted on", per Grandma Wronski) — downstairs, if you get my drift, was his metier — fils, while similarly endowed, hung his shingle in the music biz.

You may have heard of him, but doubtful. He was wildly popular among a certain segment of the listening audience. The girls in Hollywood couldn't get enough of Rosko. Oh, to be sure, he got enough. Plenty. We offer an old family photo as proof of what otherwise would seem like a piece of pure fiction. You can't make stuff like this up, folks.

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations".

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.

Here we have Polish Great Great Uncle Wronski — spelled in his adopted motherland of Russia thus: Vronsky — with his buddy Leon Tolstoy. Rumor had it that friend Leon gave one of his famous fictional characters the name Vronsky after his buddy. My Great Great Uncle!

Interestingly, Uncle did have some similarities to the fictional Vronsky. What with all the hanging around with Tolstoy, the missus would make a big fuss about how he was never home; and she with the chores, and all. Back then the clothes were dried outside on a string.

Lore has it Uncle and Leon liked to meet up regularly, whiling the hours, dicoursing over strong coffee and the occasional snort. Of snuff, that is. Oh, yes. And the more than occasional snoot. Of vodka, that is. 

Uncle made his own snuff from leaves grown in his Grandmother's dhaka. Babcha would harvest the leaves in their prime in late summer and hang them to dry and ferment through the bucolic fall days in a well ventilated barn with just enough dappled sunlight to give her leaves a pleasant chocolaty hue. Then to mature over the winter packed tightly in oak barrels Dzadza had made by hand just for that tobacco.

Come spring the pungent leaves would be cracked out of the barrels and broken by hand into as small pieces as possible. Then ground painstakingly to a fine powder in a huge natural stone mortar with a heavy marble pestle.

Why, you might wonder, all the emphasis on the snuff. Well, it was pretty, pretty, pretty good stuff. And, as a matter of fact, you should also know that originally Vronsky was indeed the namesake for the feckless nobleman in one of Tolstoy's yarns. He was a Count, in fact. Wronski liked the idea of his name in a novel. He insisted on being called ... Count. Until, that is, he read the tale. What a cad the one in the story was. So, Uncle took it back and it was some time before he lived that one down. He opted to be known for his snuff.

Fortunately, he is fondly remembered — to this day — for that snuff. Some vintages survive and fetch staggering sums. In his home town of Yasnaya Polyana even today when someone sneezes the custom is to say "Vronsky!" It's like a "God Bless You" or a "Gesunheit". If you've ever taken snuff, you know what I'm referring to. 

Here's a very obscure fact about Uncle Vronski. You probably know well the Battle of Vienna. It was at that skirmish where one General Sobieski defeated the invading Ottoman hordes. The victors demanded the vanquished also divulge the secrets of their legendarily famous cuisine. Wronski was honored — the General liked the snuff — with the secret recipe for Baba Ganoush. Which, the Wronski family to this day continues to prepare according to that delicious Uncle's original recipe. 

And, which Sobieski happens to be the name of one pretty, pretty, pretty good Vodka. Drink it as ice cold shots with a beer chaser; or, better, a homemade dill pickle.

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations".

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.

That would be our beloved Cousin Jake Wronski. Aka, "Jake the Wrake."

He insisted on telling his own story ...

His words ... "Hey, Girl. How ya doin'. See anything you like? Do you? Well, that's just the tip of the iceberg. And, by "tip" I would be referring to ... "

OK. OK. I have to interject. That was going to go way out of line.

Let's just say if that's where you want to go, Girl, Jake is your ticket.

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations".

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.

You should know Uncle Vincent "Vinnie" Wronski [pronounced Vronsky] was as sweet as the sound of his name. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But, hey, what works. No complaints from the ladies, that's for sure.

Also, referred to by a knowing few as "Triple X". How come? Who knows. One can draw inferences, though.

Not saying if, and not saying not; but he is often cited as the Father of the Lap Dance. That is, in conversations among the cognoscenti in that Babylon of the West. That would be ... Hollywood C-A.

And, the girls back in those Golden Hollywood Days loved to call out his name in the most cherry-on-top flirtatious sing-song way. And, of course, he ate it up. A lot of cherries were, ahem, consumed.

Here he is seen with an aspiring starlet in an intimate moment ... "el flagrente dilecto"(?). Just also to say Old Vinnie had quite the magic touch. No double entendre intended, please. If you are up on popular goings on you may recognize that fulsome cutie. She would later become a world famous cultural icon. Yes, Uncle had a hand in that. Again, no double meaning there either. It might apply, but the full list recounting the depth of his devilish doings did not survive the destruction of Casa Vincenzo which was due owing to a mudslide one dark and rainy evening in the Hollywood Hills. So we won't say what we can't prove. Just to add, his ill fated autobiography had the working title, "I Got the Whole World on My Lap".

As much as he had the Kavorka, he wasn't too much in the keppe. Great Grandmother — we called her "Vooycheey Booycheey" [why, I don't know] — said, "That idiot might just as well have his brains painted on."

As you can tell from the photo, that was not much of a problem for Vinnie.

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations".

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.

Let me tell you the tale of Uncle Wojzsczek Wronski. Everyone called him Woody. That nickname wasn’t from his given name Wojzsczek, but from his penchant for being quite the boychik with the ladies; a real “woodsman” if you know what I mean. Woody was a seafaring man, plying the China Trade in the late Nineteenth Century in the Tall Ships.

Once he was Shanghaied and woke up in Rangoon, only to be whisked off and left for dead in a penal colony in Macau. He escaped Papillion-style and in a lost weekend of drugs, drink, and “woodsmanship” in an obscure port city of Qingdao he met his match and fell in love. Unbeknownst to Wojzsczek, a baby boy came into the lonely world. That little bastard would grow up to become none other than the famous Charlie Chan of the movies.

Father and son were reunited at long last. Funny story, but true. Charlie Chan always got his man. He tracked his biological father down one day in his tackle shop, Woody's Woims, on City Island in the Bronx.

Still heartbroken after so many years the jilted mother sued Woody in court for breach of promise. “Your honor he promised to take me to America, Florida in fact.” In his defense Wojzsczek rebutted, “Honest your honor, I never promised to take her to Florida. All’s I said was that I wanted to go tamper with her!” That Uncle Woody, true to form every time.

I could go on but you can rent the movie and see for yourself. Wojzsczek is given a “producer” credit, if you know what I mean.

[Say the name Wojzsczek quickly tree times loudly in public and you’re sure to get some “gesundheits” and “God bless you’s”.]

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations".

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.

My California Uncle Szchelekzso Wronski, seen here early in his show business career. The story goes that he was the original “Hollywood Heart Throb” and was first in line for the romantic leading role in The Sheik. Alas, the eyeglasses were the deal breaker. We all know about what that role did for that wimp Valentino. But Uncle lived the life of The Sheik for real. The lovely Barbara Stanwyck (seen in this dusty old photo admiring him from off stage) was reputed to have been just one of his legions of conquests.

Leaving a failed film career in Hollywood, Dear Uncle became the "Sensation of the Catskills" after changing his name to Shecky. His trademark was the pants pulled up way too high and the plastic pocket protector with too many pens. And, of course, who doesn’t know even now about his signature opening line, "Heeeere's Shecky!" The lawsuit with Johnny Carson over stealing that line was settled satisfactorily. Shecky bought the hotel where he played for so many years and died on stage to a full house. Big finish, don't you think?

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations". 

Or, for the full bore hystericalicity CLICK to go to this page.
Feeling Stuck? 

The Victim?


This'll clear it up ...

"The moment when you really experience that you have created yourself being whatever way you are, at that same moment you will never have to be that way again" — Werner Erhard