Stoned Willy's Guide to Valentine's Day

Stoned Willy Poonhound's Guide to a 

Poontastic Valentine's Day

Wassup Bitches n' Mutts! It's Spoven Weedle's Spiritual Sherpa here to lead ya on a journey to the land a breast milk n' fine honeys. Let a true hound show ya how its goin down.

Ya may not like his music, but the ugly bastard bagged Beyonce. Respect the poonhound game.

Not only is today the 84th anniversary of evrybody's favorite Prohibition Era massacre, today is also the day some fools long ago decided to designate as a celebration of evrybody's favorite activity: bumpin uglies. Ya know, doin the freak nasty, the ole in out, in out. Gettin sum stank on the hang low, a lil of the old how's your father, some hide the salami, pack the pepperoni, guzzle the gabba gool, pork the pig. Im talkin bout some body rockin knockin the boots, rockin out in the nappy dugout, swimmin in a sea of shag.Yeah that's right, lovehounds,  it's Valentine's Day, the Hallmark Holiday that the US Greeting Card Association wants to remind you is extremely important to the person or persons yer currently bonin, so make sure to buy em a lil sumthin nice this year ya heartless bastard.

Now before I go revealin some of my best tricks to landin that pretty lil sumpin sumpin ya had yer eye on since you quit World of Warcraft n' finally left yer apartment, lemme break down what type 'a tradition it is we're actually carryin on here today. Back in the day when Rome was runnin shit, they had a lil celebration from February 13th to 15th. Just like any typical Roman party, they started by sacrificin a goat n' a dog (A DOG? YOU MOTHERFUHHHH RRRRRR GRRRR GRRRRR GRRRR ok calm down calm down all the Romans are dead, hubris and an overextended central government did em in, yer okay yer okay). From there, the party got a lil more awesome for the Romans and a lil less awesome for the Ro-womans. After the animal sacrifice (grrrrr fuckers) evrybody got naked 'n drunk, then the women made their own sacrifice: they waited in line as the men took the dead animal hides and whipped the shit out of em with the carcasses. Next, men drew women's names from a hat 'n got to diddle the fiddle of whoever they picked for the rest of the celebration. Women actually encouraged all this cuz they thought the ritual made em more fertile.

So, what does this mean? It means that since the beginnin of time, bitches n' mutts have done some wild shit to bust a nut.

A poonhound must know how to use this knowledge to his advantage.

Heed my words n' yer gonna be chillin with bitches way outta yer league n' knockin em up like a drunken Seth Rogen. Or if ya prefer, you'll be knockin fly honeys off yer collar like that special powder knocked those fleas off my collar last spring. By the way, just to officially end all the rumors, those fleas came from a pile of grass I rolled in at the park and definitely NOT from that lil Pekingese bitch from down the street.

Ok, so if ya didnt plan in advance for this lil national celebration of the beautiful union of two souls, all week ya been lookin round yer class or office or local bar for a warm body to spend Valentine's with so you dont have to act like yer celebratin "Singles Awareness Day" which should never be referred to in its acronym form (SAD) because the resulting irony would be so intense it would cause a black hole to form and tear the very fabric of our existence. At this point, chances are ya got slim pickens. The general poulation is about 10% date-able and you already nanaged to scare off another 5% with those facebook pics you were tagged in at last week's house party with yer cousin Chuck (what were ya doin with his gerbil anyway? Weird, man).  Here's a helpful poonhound hint: give that quiet lil chicadee at work or school wearin the conservative dress and her hair in a bun a holler. Ya never know, it could be a She's All That situation and ya could end up with Rachel Leigh Cook idolizin yer nutsack cuz ya asked her out when nobody but Steve from Sales with the wild dandruff would give her the time of day. More importantly, that lil shy dove in the office could be a screamin cockatiel in the sack, survivin on a strict diet of her man's testicular love juice.

So when ya finally got a lil date, pay attention to the bitch. Or at least pretend. A few simple nods and "yups" and "really?"'s really make her nipples push thru the light fabrics she's wearin. Askin questions about whatever type a female drama she's talkin bout will cause her thighs to slowly spread throughout supper, and if ya can somehow tie the convo into some shit she was talkin about in a previous convo, her vaginal canal will turn into Mega Maid and suck the air outta yer scrotum right thru yer urethra.

Here's how a typical Slick Willy Pimpin conversation goes down:

Fine-Ass Bitch: "So this chick at work is really gettin on my last nerve, I swear to God."

Me: *nods, looks deep into her eyes very understandingly* "Yeah?"

Dime-Piece Bitch: "Yeah, and Im not puttin up with it much longer."

Me: "What's goin on?"

Perfect Ten Bitch: "I worked too damn hard. I mean....(indecipherable babblin for three to sixteen minutes)...She swears she's better than me."

Me: "Kinda like that chick from yer yoga class right? The one ya talked about the other day."

Westminster Dog Show Blue Ribbon Award-Winning Bitch: "Yes!" *looks at me with wide eyes* "Yes, oh my god I cant believe you remembered that." *gently puts her paw on mine, lettin her eyes roam nonchalantly from my eyes to my crotch and back to my eyes* "Let's fuck."

And that's how it go. So either start carin about these bitches or start takin acting classes. Either way, when ya got the "thoughtful and carin individual" thing down, yer precious jewels will be sucked up by that vacuum-poon soon enough.

And when she goes from "suck" to "blow"? Mmmmmmm....

Since it's Valentine's Day and even the most jaded of bitches will still appreciate a gift, givin gifts is a good idea. Just dont half ass it. Unless of course yer in a long term relationship n ya established yerself as a poonhound who doesnt believe love can be expressed thru material goods n what not n yer love is so infinite and deep it could never be cheapened by gifts so ya dont exchange anything besides maybe on chrismas and every other birthday. In that situation, ya can stop at the highway underpass n grab a few roses n balloons out the back of a beat-up Plymouth Voyager and yer bitch will flip out 'n give you an unsolicited beejer cuz yer so thoughtful and spontaneous. But most of ya aint on that level of poonhoundery yet. It takes years of giftless holidays and anniversaries to establish that mindset in a bitch.

So for the rest of ya, avoid the last second gas station or CVS gifts. If ya end up empty handed at the time of the date, tell her ya got a surprise n then go to the bathroom and find some tickets or sum shit on yer smartphone. Hell, get nothing, it's better than 7-11 roses. And if ya get her 7-11 roses and she appreciates it, watch out, ya probably got a crackhead on yer hands. Then again, if shes the type that likes to wrap her mouth around a glass tube that used to hold gas station flowers and suck in crack cocaine fumes, ya know yer in for a real freaky Valentine's. 

If yer not ready for A Crackhead Valentine, chocolate is a good alternative. But fuck those bullshit assortment heart boxes with their three good caramels and maybe a peanut butter fillin' and the rest filled with some pink goo that oozes nastiness between yer teeth. Ya end up throwin half the box away cuz ya took a bite of 8 pieces and every one was cherry gel or bullshit coconut. Nah, spend a lil extra and get a shitload of specific chocolates she likes. If ya dont know what she likes, get milk chocolate, caramel, and peanut butter. If she dont like those or at least one of em, she gets no joy from life and aint worth yer time anyway lil homey.

Flowers are aite but they're played out. Plus, now she gotta find a vase for em, maybe even cut the thorns and stems, water em, all that other nonsense, and they still die quick. So get her sumthin that will at least increase her sexual desire, like chocolate, or get her somethin a lil more memorable. Tickets to some kind of event are always good. VIP tickets are better. A personal, private show in Alicia Key's limo parked in a lot overlookin the Grand Canyon at sunset is even better, but that's Weedle Level 6 and ya got a long way til ya reach that state of consciousness.

Now, ya dont gotta go crazy. Sometimes a thoughtful lil gift is better than a big ole expensive whatever whatever. Remember, pay attention to her (or pretend) and listen for lil hints that she drops when yer with her. And she will drop em. While walkin down a typical city block, a woman will spit out the phrase "Ohh that's nice" or "That'll look good with my red heels" or "I should get those after I get my income tax check" or "Yeah that diamond-studded double-ended dildo looks fun" on average at least 7 times. If ya can remember just a few of those instances, yer gonna have plenty of ideas for a gift that's sure to induce a wet bob on the knob.

Alright mutts, thats enough Wisdom of the Poonhound for one day. Peep my words, yes my heavenly words, and you'll have bitches locked up like 73rd. Word to big Ruck.

And bitches, understand that Im doin this for the benefit of the finer, sexier-in-a-summer-dress gender. I want ya all to be happy and Im tryin to teach these young hounds how to provide the happiness ya deserve. Yer welcome for that. Also, I dont leave anybody out when Im droppin knowledge, so Ill drop one last gem for ya bootylicious selves. This is very important and its somethin to keep in mind, especially durin these lil holidays when dudes buy ya that diamond-studded double-ended dildo and think they got a free access pass to all yer erogenous zones. So on this Valentine's Day, remember bitches:

Now go out there n celebrate yer sexual desires.

-Stoned Willy Poonhound, SWP World Ambassador

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Well! That was interesting! I hope you can take something from all this...on second thought, maybe you shouldn't take anything from this. Ever.

Peace!

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Spoven Weedle Presents... A True Hollyweedle Story

"Wise Up" by Aimee Mann

Spoven Weedle Presents... A name that symbolizes greatness achieved through peaceful chaos. Although the name and the movement itself is world renown, the origins of the phrase are known to only a select few. Here is the story of Spoven Weedle Presents...

SWP was born in the late 20th century. It all started when two freshmen crossed paths on a Friday night on the Storrs campus of the University of Connecticut. They exchanged greetings and one asked where the other...ok wait. I was going for the third person omniscient, but these mysterious pronouns aren't working. It's me and Nick Jake. Our brothers had been roommates at UConn for two years before we got there. My brother graduated, his brother had one more year. Jakiel and I knew of each other, but we had only met once before, randomly, when we both played for a summer league all-star baseball team. Then, on the first weekend of college, we ran into each other, again randomly. I told him I was going to an ice cream social, he laughed at me a little, then told me to come hang out with his brother and friends at their dorm. I hesitated. It was free ice cream after all...

That night Jakiel and I split a bottle of Goldschlager and Blackberry brandy and we been chillin ever since.

Now let's fast forward a couple years before this turns into a bad best man speech. We were living in Apt. E9 in Barbara Manor (later Cedar Ridge) at UConn with two other roommates and many other unofficial roommates. One thing that has always connected me and the majority of my friends is movies; even when we disagree on quality, it's great to argue about movies with friends. During my time at E9 I probably watched more movies than any other time in my life. Certain movies entered the regular rotation, and we would watch these movies an inordinate amount of times.

I like all types of movies, but most of my favorites illustrate the complexities and absurdities of life; one movie from my college days does that better than any other movie I've seen. The movie was so powerful and enjoyable to me that I even bought the soundtrack, which features nothing but songs from a female folk singer, and Supertramp...and I love it. Magnolia uniquely showcases the inter-relatedness of all living beings: it reflects how all individual organisms are part of a greater whole; everything is connected, and oftentimes that connection is manifested in extremely bizarre ways. 

I bought the VHS (that's right) simply off the strength of Tom Cruise's performance. Remember the time when people looked forward to seeing Tom Cruise in a movie? I also wanted to analyze the movie. It was very intriguing, but I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. Then I watched it again with Nick Jake, and after the second time I knew: this movie would be with me for the rest of my life. Jakiel loved it as much as I did and it entered the movie rotation. One of my other, much Skinnier roommates refused to watch it out of pure spite; he didn't want to admit we had good taste in movies because he had such objectively horrible taste. When he finally did watch it, he couldn't deny its greatness. Call it irony, karma, full circle, or whatever, but after he had talked so much shit about the movie, the fact that he loved it (and actually admitted that to us) was something right out of the movie itself.

I came to see Magnolia as a representation, a meditation, on life and all its beauty. One scene, and one quote in particular, became a favorite of ours.  Whiz Kid Donny (William H. Macy) is at a dive bar, sitting next to the old man from The Burbs. As Donny rambles on about his miserable existence, the sarcastic-but-wise old man states, "We're all just a spoven weedle." It is almost inaudible and Donny continues talking as if he doesn't hear. He finally stops rambling and asks, "What does that mean, a spoven weedle?" To which the man replies, "Things go round and round, don't they?"

When Nick and I first heard it, we couldn't make out what he was saying. After rewatching it several times, we both agreed that he was saying "spoven weedle." We didn't know if those were actual words, but we figured it was some obscure or foreign phrase. We knew the gist of it; the explanation was clear ("things go round and round," we had enough college philosophy and bad 80s music to understand that concept) so we just accepted the phrase and made it our own.

To us, Spoven Weedle represented synchronicity, the way events will sometimes align in meaningful yet unexplainable ways; it represented the way in which life progresses in a circular motion, so what happened in the past reverberates into the present and the future.

"And the book says, 'We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us.'"


To Jakiel and I, the entire meaning of the movie (and to an extent, life in general) was encapsulated in those two words: Spoven Weedle. It was a beautiful phrase that reflected the deep, complex philosophy behind the movie. 


And it never even existed. The guy was saying "spoke in the wheel," not Spoven Weedle. It must have been the 36th viewing when we both realized that we had based an entire philosophy on a misheard quote. 

Although we felt like idiots, it actually reaffirmed our stance that the quote encapsulated the movie's message, as well as our own view on life. Much like when our other roommate finally succumbed to watching the movie and ended up loving it, we felt like this was something that would only happen with this movie. The entire movie consists of "stories of coincidence and chance, of intersections and strange things told, and which is which and who only knows?" It only made sense that watching the movie would cause some strange, ironic, coincidental occurrences in real life. It also made sense that I shared such an experience with this particular roommate, considering the intersections and strange things that led to us being roommates in the first place. 

We continued to use the phrase to describe our outlook on life, constantly adapting and evolving our philosophy as we experienced more of what life had to offer. The actual phrase "spoke in the wheel", was incorporated into the definition as well: we are all individual spokes in the wheel of humanity, and although we all have our own hopes and aspirations, the inevitable and powerful force of change causes us to follow along with the rest of humanity, continuing the cycle of existence. That's basically what we meant by Spoven Weedle anyway, just a little bit more comprehensible.

The term itself continued to evolve into something bigger, yet the central tenets of "peace" and "chaos" always remained. When trying to come up with a name for our groundbreaking, game-changing, league-energizing beer pong team, we decided on Spoven Weedle Presents... (Shout out to Jeremy for the suggestion! Weedle is always a collaborative effort.) SWP became similar to a production company, with a new, unique team name every week of game play. So we had names like "Lunatic Stare Defense" or "The Electric Weedle Acid Test" on any given week, while maintaining the overall group entity of Spoven Weedle Presents... 

Spoven Weedle Presents... Lunatic Stare Defense

Spoven Weedle Presents... The Electric Weedle Acid Test

Since Spoven Weedle essentially represents change, the revolving team names was the perfect meta-joke (in my humble weedle opinion). It also allowed us the opportunity to make our inside jokes public. We could take our views and philosophy to the next level; little by little, like a virus, we would spread our philosophy throughout society, slowly gaining momentum until it became a commonly accepted, mainstream point of view.

WE ARE NOT A CULT!

Soon, a loyal mascot/disciple/ambassador was born into the world, like a modern day Pinocchio (who never left Pleasure Island).

And the world was never the same...

T-shirts, hats, stickers, blogs, facebook profiles, origin stories...Stoned Willy Poonhound and Spoven Weedle Presents... were everywhere. 

Spoven Weedle evolved from a misheard quote into a philosophy, and ultimately, a way of life.

An entire universe was created, consisting of real heroes, cartoon icons, mythological beings, and various other characters. This parallel universe exists to reflect the beautiful chaos of our own universe, acting as a mirror to inspire positive change.

SWP represents a movement for positive change; our mission is to exert positive energy, activating constant elevation while acknowledging and increasing the chaotic tendencies of the natural world. Spoven Weedle represents all that is, was, and ever will be, encompassing the eternal essence of existence, transgressing all ideologies.

Spoven Weedle Presents... Get with the movement.

"And we generally say, 'Well, if that was in a movie, I wouldn't believe it.' Someone's so-and-so met someone else's so-and-so and so on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes, and so it goes." 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

SWP: Origins Chapter 2

So, as the title of this post subtly implies, this is Chapter 2 of SWP: Origins. It is a work in progress. Feel free to share, comment, critique, bash, revere, or simply enjoy.

Chapter 2

The two men stood outside of the door, looking down at the floor. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, one man reached his hand upwards and knocked gently on the glass panel of the door.

There was no answer. He knocked again, slightly harder.

Nothing. The men looked at each other with a look of confusion and panic.

Just as the man reached to knock for a third time, a voice from within the office called out, “Open the door and come in.”

They looked at each other and opened the door. Inside was a large, open office with one oversized desk at the far wall. Sitting at the desk was a white haired man in a dark suit. There was a large, black phone on his desk and an ipad, which he was staring at intently. He did not look up as he addressed the men.

“Well?”

The two men looked at each other. Neither of them wanted to speak, but knew what would happen if they made their boss repeat himself.

They began at the same time, “Sir, we think…”

“One at a time, morons. I can barely understand you cretins as it is.”

They apologized and stood silently for a few seconds before the one who knocked on the door finally spoke up.

“Sir, we think we found the wreckage.”

“The wreckage? What the hell do I need with wreckage?”

“Well, it could lead us to...”

“Are you kidding me? This is a joke right? You guys are playing the jesters because you know I’m in a bad mood.” He stood up from behind his desk and walked slowly toward the two men, still looking at his ipad. “That’s the only explanation I have. Because why would you come in here telling me some shit that doesn’t help me one bit? Some shit that I already know because I keep up with goddamn technology!”  As he spoke the last word, he quickly swung his hand holding the ipad forward. The unfortunate bearer of bad news dropped to his knees as blood gushed from his nose.

The white haired man turned to his second visitor and stared at him intently.

“Now, unless you two dumb fucks have something to tell me that I didn’t already know, get the hell out of my sight. And from now on, if you have something to say to me, send a goddamn email. I don’t want to see your crooked eyes and this bastard’s busted nose ever again. It makes me depressed. Lock the door on your way out."

He walked back to his desk, wiping the blood off his ipad on to his pant leg. As he sat down, the black telephone started ringing. He picked it up on the first ring.

“Give me something.”

The voice on the other line was almost drowned out by static.

“Sir, there are three teams spread out over a 5 mile radius. There’s no sign of any life out here. And it’s below zero. If anything did survive, it didn’t last long.”

“Did you find what I asked you to find?”

“Well…sir…no, but...”

“So you’re making an assumption. You called me to tell me your assumptions, is that what I’m hearing?”

“Sir…it’s just that…”

“It’s just that you want to get out of the cold. You didn’t find shit, and you don’t want to freeze your tiny little nuts off, is that it?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Shut up. Shut up now. If you didn’t find them, they are not there. And if they are not there, he has them. And if he has them, then you need to find him and kill him so I can get what’s rightfully mine.”

He reached to put the phone back into the receiver but stopped. He put the phone back to his mouth and shouted, “And kill that fucking dog, too!” then slammed the phone down.

Back on the mountain, the man with the cell phone turned and addressed the 7 other guys waiting for orders in the tent.

“Well, gentlemen. Looks like we’re here for the long haul. Boss says they’re alive and that you-know-who’s got them.”

The men started mumbling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“I know, I know. But you try telling that to the boss. Thousands of miles away and he still swears he knows exactly what’s going on. Well, it’s no use sitting here talking about it. Let’s start walking and find these fucking things.”

The men zipped up their jackets, put on their gloves and masks, and headed out into the cold. Each one of them believed their efforts were in vain, but they knew arguing would be even more pointless. As they left the tent, the man with the cell phone stopped and turned to address the other men.

“Oh, and we have to kill the dog now, too.”

After several hours of a silent, unproductive search through the snow-covered mountain pass, one of the men shouted, “Hey, Santos. Come check this out!”

A long, thin, wooden rod lay half-buried in the snow next to a boulder at the foot of the mountain. The rod was covered in blood and fur, and there was a large circle of dark snow spread out underneath it. Several footprints were visible under a small dusting of fresh powder.

“I’ll be damned,” the man identified as Santos said, picking up what was left of the arrow. “The boss was right. That motherfucker was here. And I guarantee he’s got the hound and those damn pussies with him.”

They started back towards their tent to call for back-up and more ammunition.

End Chapter 2

SWP: Origins

Chapter 1

The small plane sputtered, veering right and left as it lost altitude in the oxygen-depleted air over the Himalayas.

“We’re not gonna make it,” said the man in the co-pilot seat.

“Oh, we’ll make it,” said the man attempting to steady the dilapidated plane. “We better make it. You know what we got in back. And you know who it belongs to.”

In the back of the Cessna, one large cage sat at the tail end of the plane, bolted down. Lying on the floor of the cage was a hound dog, seemingly undisturbed by the chaos happening just outside the metal bars around him. His eyes remained wide open, not with fear, but with acute awareness. He had no concern for his own safety; his only concern was the safety of the two small creatures burrowing themselves under his belly.

Despite a valiant effort by the pilot, the man in the co-pilot seat turned out to be right. They did not make it. The sudden storm that had caused the plane so many problems had finally passed and the midday sun shone down on the metal parts scattered all over the mountain pass. There was no sound or movement from the cockpit.

There was no movement in the back of the plane, either.  The cage remained bolted down, but the door had swung open. The cage was empty.

The sun shined bright, but the wind was biting. The cold was unlike anything the young hound had ever felt before. It didn’t matter. He needed to find some food and a safe place away from any predators. He stopped to get a better grip on his two companions. He hoped he wasn’t hurting them with his strong jaws, but it was the only way he knew to transport them. They were too fragile to walk on their own, and it was his duty to protect them.

The mountain that had seemed so distant from the wrecked plane was finally getting closer. He’d try to find some hikers who might take pity on him.

The sun was starting to slip behind the mountain peak. The sun would be completely out of sight soon and the temperature would drop another 50 degrees. His companions were still in shock from the crash and wouldn’t last very long if left exposed to the harsh weather. He had to find sanctuary.

The sun barely peeked over the mountain top. The hound limped closer to the base of the mountain. There were no humans in sight. The wind was picking up and beginning to toss around wet snow and strange sounds. He couldn’t be sure if it was the wind itself moaning or something in the mountains, watching them. The hair on his back stood straight up and his fellow travelers squirmed and wiggled anxiously. He needed to rest, but he knew he couldn’t. Unfortunately, his body didn’t agree. He walked a few more strides before falling to his side. He loosened his grip on the kittens. They lay next to him, rubbing their noses on his head and pawing him gently in an attempt to move him. After a few minutes, they gave up and burrowed themselves into their favorite hiding spot under his belly.

The leopard saw its opportunity. There was nothing stopping it from getting to the warm meat lying in a heap at the foot of the mountain. It took one more look around and sped towards the exhausted dog.

The leopard never felt the arrow that struck its temple and shattered its skull.

The hound felt himself moving and groggily opened his eyes. He was slowly being dragged up the mountain on a small sled. He yelped once frantically, not seeing his companions, but he then felt their warm bodies on his back, kneading his fur with their tiny paws. He sighed and looked towards the shape that was pulling his sled. He saw nothing but a dark, human-like mass with a rope tied around the waist connected to the sled. The moving mass heard the yelp and stopped. It turned slowly; everything moved slowly in this cold. Underneath a dark hood, two fierce, bright eyes looked intensely upon the animals. The hound was transfixed by the gaze. It felt calming, reassuring. He had a sense that he and his companions had reached their sanctuary; in fact, he felt as if this was where they were meant to be all along. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

End Chapter 1

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.