Current Projects: The Genesis Chronicles and Fatso: Dialogues with Myself.

flying spaghetti monster

The Genesis Chronicles: The Emergence of Life on Planet Earth as reported by Interstellar Anthropologist Baxeedexatlic IV

I am currently decoding and translating an ancient text I found buried in the ground in Oregon near a site where UFOs have been reported for decades.  Here is what I have discovered so far.

Once Upon a Time, a long, long time ago, I mean, WAY back 6000 years ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth a young man lived in a beautiful garden (or maybe a cul de sac) located in what was to become upstate Missouri.

One day, a mysterious entity named Big Daddy tore a rib out of the man’s chest, threw it to the ground and yelled “Shazam! ., and in the first instance of cloning, the rib turned into a young female, who had a lot of questions.

“Where am I? Who are you? Where’s the bathroom? What’s your name?”

Stunned by the barrage of questions, the young man stammered.

“Uh, uh. Adam,” he replied. “The chimpanzees call me Adam, which means ‘Ugly Red Clay’ in Hebrew. They said they get angry and embarrassed whenever other animals think I’m a chimpanzee.”

“Adam, said the woman, “I’m going to call you Red, and you can call me Eve because I think we’re on the eve of destruction of an old world and the beginning of a new one.”

Researcher Footnote: This researcher suspects that the Barry McGuire song “The Eve of Destruction” was written with this woman in mind.

Anyhow, the couple was betrayed by a sinister snake named Lefty, and had to leave the garden, along with their three children, Cain, Abel, and Bernice. Cain accidentally killed Abel with a barbecue skewer fighting over a roasted rabbit prepared by Adam’s first wife, Lilith. Bernice, sporting a lovely snakeskin halter, shorts, and snakeskin sandals, invented the fountain of youth, and she now lives on a ranch near Cupertino where she works for Apple. It was Bernice who designed Siri.

My research includes true stories of early humans, including Cain’s marriage to Lucy, the first proto-human, the tragic methane explosion that destroyed the dinosaurs aboard the second Ark, and probably the most fascinating story of all, whether Jesus of Nazareth was an alien, a zombie, or a zombie alien. Spoiler alert!! The truth about Jesus is…

No spoiler alert here. The answers to this and other questions will be found in my book, The Genesis Chronicles: The Emergence of Life on Planet Earth as reported by Interstellar Anthropologist Baxeedexatlic IV FSM

I am also working on a memoir titled Fatso: Dialogues with Myself  Here is an excerpt from the opening chapter, Just Ask Oprah giving you an idea of what it’s about.

Just Ask Oprah

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from…

(From Little Gidding by T.S. Eliot)

I was channel surfing with some friends in December 2014 when I came across a trailer for yet another Barbara Walters interview of Oprah Winfrey. Towards the end of the trailer, Barbara posed a question for Oprah.

“Before I leave this earth,” she said, “I will not be satisfied until I…”

“Until…,” replied Oprah, “I make peace with the whole weight thing.”

“WHAT?” replied Barbara, along with my companions and probably 10 gazillion television viewers. “WHAT!!?”

This enormously successful woman, one of the most influential people in the world, philanthropist and the only African American billionaire in the U.S.A., beloved by tens of millions, was now 60 years old and still needing to come to peace with her “whole weight thing.” Unbelievable?

“You’ve got to be kidding,” yelled one of my companions at the screen.

Like many people in America watching this, my buddies were incredulous at this confession and began dissing Oprah, whining about how “poor , poor Oprah” with her gourmet chefs, support staff, yada yada yada, can’t manage to keep the weight off. Poor, poor billionaire.

As I listened to her, however, I said nothing to my friends. But I thought to myself, “Of course, Oprah. I understand completely. Hell, I started dieting shortly after you were born, so I have a clue as to what you have gone through.”

However, like most men with weight and body image issues, my struggles occurred in the privacy of my own shame and self-loathing. Oprah, on the other hand, has had to battle it on a national stage, with her “successes” and “failures” playing out in front of millions of viewers who loved her.

For example, there’s Oprah on the cover of Vogue magazine in 1998, looking gorgeous, though she was ordered to drop another 20 pounds before the photo shoot. During the shoot she admitted

I mean, I’ve been fighting weight all my life, definitely never even thought of myself as an attractive girl. So why would I be dreaming about Vogue?” She starts to laugh. “Vogue is the big house! Didn’t think I’d be sittin’ at that table!”


At the same time Oprah appeared on the cover of Vogue, I was lying down whenever I could, suffering from severe foot pain as a result of following exercise recommendations by Oprah and her ever-present trainer/huckster Bob Greene. I had watched what seemed to be the success of Oprah, her good friend Gayle King, and others on her team lose weight and firm up by exercising most days. When I followed suit, I ended up damaging the metatarsals on both feet and have spent almost twenty years recovering; but more about that later.

In the years since the Vogue cover photo, Oprah has gained and lost and gained and lost and still failed to find peace with “the whole weight thing.” In my book I have no answers for her, only compassion and the wish that she’d free herself from the destructive advice she continues to receive from hucksters like Bob Greene and Dr. Oz, who are willing to blame Oprah rather than themselves for giving her impossible eating/exercise plans that are doomed to failure even as they generate big bucksters for the hucksters in books and speeches.[1]

A basketball court could be filled with the articles and interviews and books documenting the heart-rending struggles women have with their bodies, with their self-confidence, with battles with dysmorphia, with waking in the morning and looking into a mirror before I pee, looking into mirrors a dozen times a day and finding something to criticize and loathe, looking into a mirror with a feeling of defeat just before going to sleep. But it generally comes as a surprise to women than men suffer from the same kinds of problems; they just don’t talk about it. Recent articles have pointed out that over 50% of men don’t like pictures of themselves, and who don’t like to look at themselves in mirrors. I’m one of those men who, as recently as April 2015, wrote the following prose poem about my relationship with mirrors.


Stand before a mirror wearing the blackest clothing you possess.

The left profile is always the most flattering.

It makes you look thinner.

Hold that image in your head as long as you can.

Remove your clothes away from the mirror.

Rush past the mirror into the shower.

Take your shower. When finished,

run past the mirror quickly.

Never look in the mirror after you’ve taken a hot shower

because the steam warps the mirror and makes you look twice as fat as normal.

Put on clean black underpants, black T-shirt undershirt, black pants, and black polo shirt.

If you start yelling at what a bloated fat miserable gluttonous out-of-control slob you are when you look into a mirror,


If that doesn’t help, drive out to your condo in Newport.

It has better mirrors.