Like aliens, there is no definitive answer regarding the afterlife. While it is certain we will all dies, what happens after is pretty much speculation and hearsay until. This scientific approach allows us to see we're most likely not alone this universe and since this is the case, believing in ghost is both logical and illogical. However death is mankind's greatest battle. Death is a thought that plaques humanity. When will I die? How will I die? What happens afterwards? Is there a heaven or hell? What does this mean?

A a child I was fascinated with aliens and ghosts, which stems from either seeing one, engaging in an out of body experience, or simply having my wisdom teeth removed. My fetish for ghosts were fueled by growing up in Richmond Virginia, being haunted by history, and having the Civil War flows my veins. Some close family friends lived in a historic house composed of a former tobacco plantation and several colonial revival renovations. Their home functioned both as a battlefield and hospital during the civil war. So as a kid I was accustomed to them speaking candidly about Charlie the wounded Civil War soldier hanging out in their house. The couple recalled seeing Charlie at the foot of their bed on their wedding night, while their children and later grandchildren were desensitized to his presence. Now I never saw him, but maybe its because I wanted it so badly.

It seems like everyone has a ghost story. There is something so exhilarating about the being scared, maybe because it ignites some innate human emotion stifled and suppressed by comfortable lifestyles. I'm sure those fighting Ebola and involved in the Syrian War aren't up for good horror flick, but I could be wrong. The feeling of fear is fun, but there is also the the desire to explain the un-explainable and a longing to communicate with the dearly departed. 

In 1890 Elijah Bond invented the Ouija board originally named was the Nirvana Talking Board but later took the combination of Oui (yes in French) and Ja (yes in German). The Ouija board was originally conceived as a parlor game but after several years people around the globe have created a dialogue with the dead, or better yet their subconscious. Sure, it always seems like someone is pushing the planchette (heart shaped pointer device) but deep down some part of you wants to believe. Since the dawning of mankind, we've tried to communicate with the dead through seances and elaborate funerary processes. 

The Ouija board is the first known device to facilitate communication with the dead. Some say it's harmless while others say it's the hand of the devil. Josh Tucker said the Ouija board instructed him to murder, while Stephen Young's case was retried because his jury was caught surfing the Ouija board. The Ouija board has been featured in a few horror films to TV shows such as the Exorcist, American Horror, to Paranormal Activity. Lucky for us, Ouija is the star of it's first full length motion picture. Critics hate it, but viewers love it. After watching the trailer it could be a crap-shoot. It's clever in that it has a backstory but it follows suit with the blood, guts, and gore of Human Centipede or Saw IV. Just because it's disturbingly gross doesn't make it scary, i.e. the Ouija girl who has her lips sewn shut with dental floss by a ghost. Maybe the mind is our best and worst enemy, meaning maybe using the Ouija board is better entertainment than the movie; certainly cheaper. So go out their live your lives, communicate with the dead, tap into your inner psyche, or imagination. 

So every morning I awake to sounds of three rambunctious children fighting. I imagine this is what is like to be a parent, however I am not. In this instance my neighbors have 3 kids, and lucky for me my bedroom wall happens to meet their. Rest assured anytime I have a "company", my neighbors' kids go bezerkers seemingly like they're trapped in the closet or wall unbeknownst to my guest. It's like Children Under the Stairs meets Sex in the City. Not a good look. 

Now I want kids, if that is in the stars for me. But right now I'm enjoying my "me" time which includes watching my neighbors slowly convert from the once party animal CBGB gutter punks into to kale-growing granola-eating commune hippies. Obviously, like all parents, this is all for the love of their beautiful children. We all have to make sacrifices, although in this instance I'm not sure I'd have ditched Wall Street to become massage therapists and dulla. Obviously I am no authority on anything related to pregnancy or parenting, but one thing is for certain there is plenty of money to be made here, as well as plenty of room to indulge. Sometimes when I'm feeling generous I babysit my neighbors' kids. This is always greeted with a deep looks of uncertainty, exhaustion, and relief. Somehow fatigue overrides fear in this circumstance. Which means I'd be the first one to judge you when I see your toddler with an iPad, but I'd also be the first one to give them an iPad at 2AM to silence their 48 hour bloody-murder yell-a-thon. 

I'm going to be a great parent! Or at least I think... although whenever I see parents in any store it's like their kids turn into complete assholes wanting, touching, and yelling at everything.

Before they're even born parents are inundated with baby books, maternity clothing, birthing centers, birthing experts, personal trainers, and dietitians. You have in-home birthing stuff, which if you want you're living room decor to consist of a kiddie pool full of internal organs and shit, more power to ya. Now if you want to scare the shit out of a soon-to-be older sister or brother, there are birthing books and dolls demonstrating the natural process. But after birth, if you're truly vulgar you can grill up mom's left over placenta for a tasty treat. Or if you want to truly embarrass your kids later in life, have your placenta made into a teddy bear. Heck while you're at it don't forget to keep the umbilical cord and foreskin. Barf. There is no better way to bond with your baby than breastfeeding, which is why Mr. Milker makes it a viable option for both sexes. Now the only obstacle is to get society better acclimated to breastfeeding in public. So close your eyes pervs, keep them open conservatives, and close your bra mom breastfeeding anything with teeth. Besides breastfeeding, another important parental decision is whether you prefer paper or plastic, oops I mean cloth or plastic. Heck the latest movement involves no diaper at all. 

With all the decisions to make, having a bald baby shouldn't be one of them. Baby Bangs are wigs for kids and insecure parents need to notify their kids gender. But with the influx of Toddlers and Tiaras there is now a market for baby high heels, bikinis, fake tans, fake teeth, false eyelashes and hair extensions. It's basically a smaller version of Hollywood. If this isn't the route you prefer there is something for every parent; expensive bathing buckets that emulate the womb, rolling toys that vacuum, bookbags that function as leashes, finger puppet birth announcements, a gerbil-cage like water dispenser, and the iconic Peekaru a Snuggie for mom and baby. Which brings us to the conclusion, they say a parent spends close to a million on one kid. If that is the case, don't forget the big picture, the closeness and love you wish to obtain, how you want to earn love, money doesn't buy happiness or manners, and the fact your kids will love you no matter what, even minus the iPad.

You remember that scene in ET when Elliott find's ET lying in a ditch or creek wrapped in a white sheet. Then their entire house is quarantined like a giant bubble, hazzmat suits everywhere, and Elliott and ET are locked the bathroom. Well this is the future folks, between monolithic and microscopic aliens we're all pretty much doomed. Sure this may seem pesimistic, but get it while the getting is good.

While some of us are used to silence and others noise. Many of us thrive in urban arenas while some burgeon in rural roundabouts. Ebola has infected Williamsburg and of all holy places the Gutter, Halloween approaches, the weather chills, the harvest moon was in full effect, we can only contemplate whether or not are we're the only life in this vast cosmos? Luckily thanks to Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson we have a broader perception of our universe and beyond. Sure many people out there still believe the world is flat, and was created in 7 days to only to be fooled by Eve the femme-fetal fatalist. But the question still remains; is the city or countryside scarier? 

Sure the city has the constant threat of terrorism, bioterrorism, bombings, nuclear radiation, shootings, getting run over, Ebola, Swine Flu, Bird Flu, Mad Cow Disease, rape, STDs, bed bugs, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, and a random AC falling out a window. But the truth is New York City's crime rate is much lower than much of the country, especially compared to Richmond Virginia where I hale from. Other rural areas are more susceptible to car accidents, drunk drivers, psycho serial killers, radical religions, avalanches and mudslides, animal and bug attacks, as well as hunting accidents. Sure it is all fun and games until someone gets hurt, but sometimes boredom and nothingness can lead to overall weirdness. So while I do like to escape, I like to think in the city keeps me social, in touch with mankind, like we're all in this together, me and the homeless man vs. Ebola.

Personally being in the middle of nowhere, alone, whether camping, hiking, living, and especially swimming are beyond terrifying. Which is why I've invested in an Alien UFO-O2 magnometer. Yes for $50 bucks I can test the magnetic radioactive waves around me and see into the unknown, the only requirement is electricity and aliens. Sure this is slightly impractical for camping, luckily I have multiple apps on my mobile phone. Unfortunately this is also slightly irrational because without cellphone service I'm screwed. Now I'm confident I'm a sure fire lure for martians, since I vaguely recall seeing them in my room as a child and at the dentist office when I was having my wisdom teeth extracted. Obviously it was an out of body experience meets alien body abduction. So based on this experience and the fact we are the only lifeforms out there, I've lined my entire apartment in aluminum foil and decided to dress entirely in aluminum so the aliens and government can't detect my wave lengths. Sure it cost a fortune, plus I'm covered head to toe in cuts and going to bathroom is nightmare, but they're arn't about to rain on this beautiful brain.

You may have already won $10,000,000! or How shall we deliver your money? In an armored truck or straight into your bank account for the rest of your life? Just go home and wait for the mail.

It is heartbreaking to think that millions of people buy into this everyday, either your slightly senile grandmother or your hopeful husband. It is also ironic that elderly icons like Ed McMahon and Dick Clark were the faces of the shadiest sweepstakes in the United States. 

Although somewhat forgotten today, there was a moment in time when junk mail didn't apply to your email.  American Family Publishers and Publishers Clearing House were vicious in blowing-up your mailbox. Now if you were new to the game, you might actually open up the envelope and realize you're a millionaire. At first your heart flutters, like an adult version of Willy Wonka's golden ticket. However after reading between the lines, one can only hope you realize the entire thing is a hoax, proceeded by ripping the letter to shreds. Now this last part might not come so easy to those who can't distinguishing between fact and fiction, who believe everything they read, and those lacking a healthy dose of skepticism. 

A 78-year-old woman, so convinced she had won put a welcome sign and ordered a cake to celebrate her great fortune with friends. Like so many others with the average consumer's age of 74, many suffered from cognitive and perceptual impairments along with a generation of trusting people. It is a shame.

American Family Publishers, 50% owned by Time Inc. was primarily devoted to the ripping people off with the additional accouterments of selling magazine subscriptions. There is much debate as to whether people actively had to participate in-order win, but the most interesting fact is that this investigation does not stem from archives but from landfills where garboloy-gist study trash to decipher evidence. Supposedly the company awarded $77 million in cash and more than $250,000 in smaller prizes since it started in 1977. But after much litigation, the company was required to clarify it's game rules such as consumer guarantees and no purchase necessary, however this along with their name change didn't advert bankruptcy. As a result, 32 states received a$1.25 million dollar settlement of which New York received $750,000 and distributed to 12,000 New Yorker's who subscribed to AFP. Sadly this money comes from their sale and rental address of 349,542 people age 55 and older, who bought magazine subscriptions in Florida alone.

Unfortunately the grey area still exists, Publisher's Clearing House claiming their moral hierarchy are still in business. The director advertising claims that since the companies founding in 1967 it has given away $11.25 million. Many are announced during the Superbowl continuing to over a 100 million viewers. Sure they give money away, but the chances of winning $1 million are one in 1.3 billion, but 1 in 223 for $5-$50 bucks. Their website says they have daily drawing of $1.00 Amazon Gift cards to $2,500 cash. Twice a year "hundreds of prizes" are awarded ranging from $1,000 dollars or a prize, followed by $10,000 awards chosen "nearly" every month, with the $1-$10 million big bucks awarded "at least" once a year. If only we could be so vague claiming and paying taxes? 

Obviously this is life, and just another factor or test in Darwin's theory of natural selection. However it's your widowed grandmother living on a fixed income, it still really hurts. So if you ask me don't subscribe.

When King Tutankhamun (Tut's) tomb was discovered by Howard Carter in November 1922, little did he know it would take him 10 years of clearing and cataloging to archive it's contents. It is crazing to think that in a couple thousand years or so, someone or something will be excavating our graves and landfills, possibly mistaking them for time-capsules. King Tut's burial jewelry included bracelets, anklets, buckles, scarabs, pendants, necklaces, earrings, collars,and rings; along with headdresses, chariots, weapons, musical instruments, and so much more. 

It would not be shocking for someone to unearth Michael Jackson's tomb underneath the Neverland carousel to find him covered in slap bracelets and silly bands. Given his overall popularity he would have been the ideal spokesperson for both the bracelets and the bands. In the 80's and 90's he could have promoted Thriller themed slap bracelets. Followed by hocked silly bands in new millennium in part to his kids love for them. Slap bracelet were invented in 1983 by Stuart Anders a high school shop teacher. Anders went on to make millions, and is an icon of the American dream. On the other hand Silly bands were invented in 2002 by Passkey Design in Japan. Originally they were an innovate design approach to curbing wasteful rubber-band use. Not that this was a prominent pollution problem. But as a result of this environmental endeavor, the entire thing backfired, creating worldwide hysteria and need for these fashionable bracelets. Funny how their original purpose went completely out the window where silly bands became detached from any notion of use.

It is difficult to bring philanthropy and fashion together. The campaign bracelet attempted just that, with 80 million LiveStrong bracelets sold between 2004 and 2013, they unquestionably brought awareness, however in the end, the world was duped by Lance Armstrong. Even though we were all hurt, it was and is the LiveStrong Foundation and their constituents that are the true survivors. First and foremost, it is rather ironic Armstong, a cancer survivor and seven-time Tour de France winner, would use the same medical practices (blood transfusions) to partake performance enhancing drugs. All the while aware of the deception, Armstrong created  a non-profit to try to defeat cancer. And in doing so they use 100% synthetic silicone bracelet which may in fact be somehow linked to cancer, either via the material's composition or the it's manufacturing processes. Whichever the case, it is too bad Armstrong didn't opt for sustainability. But based on the silly bands, such might not be the case. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Or in this instance, beauty is is only skin deep. Whether it's fitting-in or standing-out you're concerned about, Subdermal Implants or Doughnut Head might be the option for you. 

Tattoos and piercings are so passé, while nose jobs and breast implants are also rather cliché. If normal isn't for you, why not give body modification a chance. Sure you thought pierced and sliced tongues were bad, but they have nothing on the Japanese fashion trend of Doughnut-ing. Although pioneered in North America, the trend has become an underground sensation at Japanese fetish parties. Approximately 400 cc of medical-grade saline inserted into the forehead over the course of a few hours, which results in a bagel like formation, complete with a hole in your head. Luckily you don't have to commit to the look since the saline dissipates in a day. Now if you've ever considered a hospital saline drip as a solution to your raging hang-over, Bagel Brain might serve you well. Now try this every weekend, and your eyebrows might become your eyelids. 

If you're seeking a more permanent approach for creating a stir, Subdermal Implants (3-D implant, or pocketing) are you're ticket. Surgery has never felt better, when you shove a bit of rubber just under the skin. Some practitioners create their own decals, while others just mold together some old bathroom caulking. Since this field is completely unregulated, most insurances don't participate, however for a mere $1000 you can coax a stranger into shoving a silicone star-studded skull onto the top of your sternum. Sure you might prefer a fake ear on your elbow or devil horns, where at first it might seem cool to look like a reindeer or a centaur, but one day that might change. Risks included unlicensed surgeons, infection, and your body's own natural rejection. But perhaps you're more interested in switching professions like the Lizard Man and if that is the case nobody should stifle your creativity. So give it a shot, shove a golf ball into your chin flaps and fill your arm wings with marbles.  

In all honesty what is the difference between this and breast implants and circumcision? They're superficial yet society has fully embraced some rather than others. Surgery itself is beyond nauseating (especially if you've undergone some serious shit), but no pain no gain, right? Just as the Church of Body Modification says in their mission statement; aim to practice body modification rituals with purpose, to unify mind, body, and soul, and to connect with a higher power. 

When it comes to farts, they're funny. And although farting is far from classy, pretty much the opposite of any etiquette, they constitute much needed comedic relief. Now if you're in the line of fire, where I often find myself, farts might not be the best thing in the world. However there is something nauseating yet appealing about the release of a hot stinky one from your little butt bubble. On average a person farts 14 times a day, most of which occurs while you're asleep.

Now why anybody would want to recreate a fart beats me, but in fact is the whoopee cushion was invented between 218-222 AD by Roman Emperor Elagabalus Varius Avitus Bassianu. Elagabalus got his kicks from watching others squirm, where the whoopee cushion prototype came in quite handy. Dinner guests were often encourage to sit upon small inflated pillows that released a squeal. He also instructed slave boys squash the cushions upon the floor. His overall tenacity for practical jokes and human suffering, forced guests to eat rocks, witness and succumb to torture, enter rooms filled with wild animals such as poisonous snakes, mice, and tigers. Elagabalus appetite for overall human degradation branched over into his sex life, where during his short reign he married 5 women and took countless male lovers. It was even rumored he ranked his body guards by penis size. Either way, this goes to show you humans share a love of humor and phallics.

An perfect example of poor taste and foul humor, is the placement of comedian Woopie Goldberg's face upon the Whoopee Cushion. Irony? Like Elagabalus, Goldberg also likes the cock, although unsuspectingly. Given her love of casual attire and support of the LGBTQIA community, it easy to see the misconception. But let's not forget her love affair with Ted Danson, as well as her three other husbands, where today she is a mom, great-grandmother, and grandmother. And although I'm defending her today, Goldberg is not shy from farting on camera where she let one loose on live TV while hosting the View. So there you have it, some things never get old, real farts or fake farts for sure.

In the film I Heart Huckabees, environmentalist/activist Jason Schwartzman try's to save a rock and it's natural habitat by reading a poem "you rock, rock."  The movie is poignant post-modern tale exploring existentialism and nihilism, and although slightly high-brow it finds humor in making fun of the worlds greatest philosophers. Humans continually seek a deeper understanding of the world and the unknown, which is why the ancient practice of crystal healing and crystal gazing still flourish.

Throughout history, indigenous populations used stones and shells as a form of currency, where today we still recognizes precious metals and stones as a form of capital. The early Egyptians thought Lapis Lazuli symbolized royalty, honor, god, power, spirit, and vision. Six-thousand years later the stone still retains it's spiritual poise by enhancing memory and intelligence, activating a state of higher being, along with stimulating knowledge, truth, and understanding. The physical healing properties of Lapis Lazuli are endless from treating ear, nose, and, throat, to thyroid glands, vertigo, oozing eyes, and  lumbago. The stone cures brain disorders, ADHD, autism, and Asperger's syndrome. So put down the blue pill (Adderall) and pick up the blue rock. 

If only it was that easy, we would've saved billions in medical research. Instead you have Dr. John of God profiting the cure-all Crystal Therapy Bed which conducts physical spiritual surgery. The bed, composed of a massage table, has suspended quartz crystals illuminated with specific frequencies to perfectly align and radiate upon the seven human energy centers known as chakras. You'll never feel better midst the Himalayan rose salt mood lamps emitting negative ions otherwise seen as positive energy waves. Now if this isn't you idea of a spiritual cleanse, you can purchase your very own crystals amid the aroma of marijuana and grill cheese on any Shakedown Street from Haight Ashbury to a simple Phish concert. Sure they might be wrapped in wire or hemp, but you'll save a boatload compared to Dr. Wackadoodles spiritual surgery. Plus you can clamp the rocks to dreadlocks to perpetuate the healing process. Sure they might get a little heavy and there's the added risk of knocking your teeth out, since you literally have rocks in your head, but think of the positive aura you're creating everywhere you go. In the shower, in bed, in the office, etc. 

Aside from their medicinal therapeutic purposes, crystals balls and seeing stones have been used to predict the future and interpret the past. As early as 1900 it was published that crystal visions revive memories, tap into the subconscious, create telepathic messages, clairvoyant prophesies, and are known to communicate with the supernatural. With special stones Joseph Smith was able to interpret the reformed Egyptian used to compile the golden plates or Book of Mormon found under a rock. Although no one ever saw the gold plates or stones they instilled such a profound faith still practiced by 15 million Mormons worldwide, close to 6.5 million in the US alone. And although Smith's seeing stones didn't cure any physical ailments, they did save countless lost souls. I wonder if any psychic saw that coming? 

So whether it is your body or soul that needs saving, get yourself some rocks, even a pet rock counts.

There is nothing cooler than a dude on a motorcycle. Wind in your hair, the purr between your legs accompanied by the essential leather jacket, Frye boots, dark denim, and aviator sunglasses. Whether it's a nostalgia for the rock-n-roll lifestyle or a mid-life-crisis derived from a movie. The truth is that Tom Cruise never looked better than Top Gun. He peaked here, thus better explain his need of personal affirmation found in Scientology. Either way, riding a motorcycle is the tits, in one moment you've never been so close to fully living or fully dying.

This past weekend I witnessed a man drive his motorcycle onto a populated sidewalk and into the back of a parked car. It happened so quickly that with the bat of an eyes, I went from idolizing this guy to rejecting him. My experience with motorcycles has been somewhat limited, beside the fact my mother and father actual owned an rode them in their youth, I've only ridden passionately with some guys I've dated.

This nostalgia is nonexistent when referring to the minibike. Similar to children's jet skis, snowmobiles, and go-karts, minibikes were brought into this world by bike enthusiasts experimenting with spare parts. Because these bikes maneuver tight pit roads so easily it was only a mater of time before a mini-powersports field was created in the 1950's. 

Although uncommon, these crotchrockets have been known to make an appearance in Brooklyn where just recently I saw one speeding through Williamsburg. Ironically the minibike has a long history with Brooklyn, where the son to John Gotti, godfather of the Gambino crime family, Frank Gotti was killed while while minibiking in Howard Beach. He was only 12 years old, however the murderer John Favara was found not guilty. Allegedly the mob took maters into their own hand where Favara's disappearance and death, where thought to be apart of The Hole a mafia dumping ground excavated on Ruby Street on the border of Brooklyn and Queens. And although bodies were found, his remains remain missing. Lore has it that he was dismembered with a chainsaw and fed to the fishes, dissolved in acid, and stuffed into a barrel and sank at Sheepshead Bay. 

Aside from the menacing mafia, minibikes pose their own risk to life and limb. And although minibikes are not allowed on most public streets, they are still prevalent in Brooklyn where it seems like anything goes; you mopeds, electric bicycles, ATVs, Golf Carts, motorized unicycles, 3 Wheel Cars and motorcycles called. Spydrs. Only 19 of the US states require riders to wear a helmet, not to mention overall motorcycles account for 14% of all auto fatalities in 2012. Luckily 

Not only can it slice and dice, it can poach and puree, stew and spew, peel and heal, fry and die, noodle your poodle, churn and sperm. Yes  folks you've seen it all, the first and only only kitchen device to toss both salads. So look further as seen on TV, Crate & Barrel, William & Sonoma, Sur La Table, Bed Bath & Beyond, Walmart, Duanne Read, and the Dollar Tree. Not suitable for children, may cause cancer, however can also render both forms of tea bagging.

It is only when you loose one of your most important kitchen devices that you realize how much useless crap you have in the kitchen. No I'm not talking about you Vitamin Mixer, or your Black & Decker mixer, not even your La Spaziale or illy expresso machine. Forget the plates and silverware, heck even the copper coated pots and pans. You'll have no need for your cast iron skillet and Boche stove. Everything relies on your refrigerator, that fine line of cold and frozen, to moldy and rose. You can forget about it once your fridge is 86d, get used to as scary cooler and take out. On up side think of it as an opportunity to clean out your fridge, on down side why did I have to go to the market the day of. 

Which brings me to my larger point of kitchen krap (crap). I've have the privilege of knowing and dining with several remarkable chefs. The only thing I ever see them use is a sharp ass knife, maybe a hand towel or two, a cast iron skilled, and a decent baking tray. It's not about the gadgets and gizmos, it's about the food. My stomach doesn't give a shit if you used a digital thermometer or a Sous-vide, so long as it taste good. Man has been cooking ever since Eve ate that apple. However mankind has purposefully and continually invented accoutrements to aid in the etiquette of eating, such as a proper table setting or a formal tea service. stuff such as the celery vase or escargot tongs.  

Yet Adam and Eve weren't thinking about garlic peelers, banana slicers, avocado protectors, or orange juice suckers. There were no George Foreman Grills, Chop Magic, Bacon Bowls, EZ Yolk, or Magic Bullets. It naturally progressed from a raw vegan diet, into the paleo diet, with the microwave processed fast food craze toward the end, to end up right back at the paleo diet. Where today you have Fruitarianism where people only eat the fruit once it falls from the tree as to harm the tree; otherwise on the opposite end of the spectrum you have a camping deep fryers that allow you to fry that catfish after killing it. My only thought now is what does it all mean man? Without a fridge my juicer, hibachi grill, salad spinner, pineapple slicer, Jello mold, pizza tile, potato peeler, can opener, cheese grater, strainer, meat masher, muffin tins, Le Creuset dutch oven and turbotière are practically pointless.