The Fine Print of Compassion

At the time of writing... more precisely when I started this blog... Fred Phelps, one of the most revolting pieces of shit ever lived, was on his way to meet his maker and be judged accordingly. In case you don't know, Fred Phelps was the founder of the hate mongering cult Westboro Baptist Church. They are a group of abominations who picket at funerals of soldiers and victims of high-profile tragedies, with their infamous "God hates fags" and other equally despicable signs. In fact, they are so obsessed with homosexuals that makes me wonder if behind those closed Westboro Baptist Church's doors is non-stop gay sex amongst their male members, while their female members bake cookies or something in between their tasks of making ugly hateful signs.

Naturally there were calls for picketing at this asshole's funeral. It only makes sense, right?

Take the high road or go for the thrill of revenge? Is compassion free for all, even those who seemingly don't deserve it? Are you a better person because you are compassionate unconditionally?

Rewind a whole bunch...

I had a lengthy chat with my buddy Jesus about compassion and forgiveness. Jesus has been a long-time advocate for compassion, even for those who literally killed him... yes, I know, Jesus came back three days after his brutal murder, talked to his bros, flew to heaven, yadayadayada, but that's a different story... anyway, you can imagine how traumatized Jesus was when he heard about the Fred Phelps and his rabid preaching of hate... all is done in the name of Jesus.

"That ain't what I said, Fred!", said Jesus. "I don't hate! I hate people who hate! I love everyone! Take my name off your bullshit! Baaaaaaah!"

When I asked Jesus about compassion and forgiveness, he said "don't mix those up and don't ever freely dispense them."

"Buddy... I mean Jesus... could you be more specific?"

"Naaaa, the sarcastic one, you'll figure it out... hey Peter! Stop sniffing my dirty athletic supporters!..."

Fast forward slightly...

My parents are special in the wrong ways, particularly my dad. It's a miracle that I turned out to be such a sweet, loving person. But this blog isn't a rant on child abuse or bad parenting, so let's just say my dad is an asshole. Naturally I had the kind of upbringing that induces resentment and anger, which has become the force behind my acidic devotion to love and compassion, particular for assholes. Yeah, right.

My dad had a stroke a few years ago, so he has trouble with his speech and sometimes drools uncontrollably. One day he went on his typical yelling tirade on some unknown shit. That was my queue to have a shouting match with him. But I couldn't understand a word he was spitting out. I was distracted by his drool flying uncontrollably in all directions.

At that moment, my resentment and anger towards my dad had strangely disappeared. I didn't say anything and simply let him blow off his steam... mostly vapour from his drool.

Fast forward some more...

Yoga has been an important part of my life for the last 800 years. I'd fly all over the place to do workshops and immersions. I even completed a 200-hour teacher training while I had no intention of becoming a yoga teacher, though I eventually became one. It's fair to say I have spent a few pretty dollars on learning from our dear friend John the asshole guru sans testicles. When our dear friend John turned out to be such an asshole, the nuclear explosions and meltdowns that followed were of epic proportion. His new vital coven angels are relentlessly preaching for compassion and love, while spewing out fecal matter on anyone who challenges his latest recycled gimmick "bow spring yoga", or whatever shit he's calling it now.

I wonder... if our dear friend John the asshole guru sans testicles or any of his coven angels were on fire, would I piss on them?

The goddess of compassion, our dear friend John Sans Testicles

Fast forward a whole lot...

Do you have Ex-girlfriend Syndrome?

Back in my yoga teaching days I used to keep a journal specifically for my class. I'd write down anything from sequencing to heart theme, to alignment focus, and to self reminders such as "don't look at that woman who wears white spandex to a yoga class"... my journal was full of gems like that. Since I retired from teaching yoga, my journal was swept under the door mat like an ex-girlfriend. And like an ex-girlfriend, my journal shows up every now and then just to remind me of that period of my life.

Rewind so slightly...

Uncle Bob wasn't my real uncle. He was actually my friend's friend's uncle. I don't even know how it started but it did: he would visit us from Toronto in the summer and we'd all go for brunch with him. He was a frail little man who was full of sparks. He always ordered a glass of white wine with his breakfast which was always barely touched. It was a running joke in our annual outing.

Uncle Bob's health deteriorated in the following years, to a point where he could no longer fly because he needed an oxygen tank to breath. So my friend and I would meet for brunch with Uncle Bob's family here, and we'd literally talk and joke with him via Skype.

2011 February 28 was Uncle Bob's 80th birthday. It was also the same week of the 3A Yoga Inc. advanced intensive in Miami.

Oh shit! I mean, I really wanted to go to that advanced intensive thingy and study with the asshole guru John Sans Testicles. AND the host was none other than the princess of tasteless Crusty Nono Myass. Like seriously! How auspicious would that be, the asshole guru and the princess of tasteless in the same room!

I didn't have to make a Sophie's choice because there was only one option: I'd go to both. 

Make the choice that allows you to say "I'm glad I did", instead of "I wish I did". That's my motto. Too often you are given only one chance. Miss it and regret it.

The trip to visit Uncle Bob in Toronto did cost me extra arms and legs, but at the end it was worth it. Uncle Bob passed away shortly after. I'm glad I was part of his 80th birthday celebration.

In case you wonder, the trip to Miami turned out to be that epic trip with a local yoga teacher Miss No-forehead. You can read about it here. WARNING: I had some unkind words to say about Miss No-forehead. Some yogis are just assholes.

Fast forward...

It's been two years since the meltdown of 3A Yoga Inc. As expected the ex-girlfriends and the Vital coven angels are coming out of yin yang to make their PR rounds, and to remind the world what a bunch of boorish classy ladies they are. The asshole guru named John Sans Testicles also did an interview with some online site that nobody gives a shit about. He auspiciously told us how great his newly avant garde yoga system thing is, his bastard child 3A Yoga Inc. is really old news, his addiction to drugs and anal beads is nobody's business, it wasn't his fault that those women forced their vaginas onto him... he literally dumped 3A Yoga Inc. like he dumped the princess of tasteless Crusty Nono Myass. Ironically, Crusty is now the champion of 3A Yoga Inc, oh that poor thing...

These people are still loud and repulsive, but nobody seems to look their way any more. They have become day-old bread, a cup of lukewarm coffee filled with cigarette butts, or that dried up piece of parsley left on the dinner plate in a truck stop diner.

Fast forward...

I am saying NO to 2014 winter Olympics in Russia

I will NOT support or watch the 2014 winter Olympics, which is hosted by the asshole Vladimir Putin government in Russia, and this is why:



Best wishes to the athletes though! Have a great game and a safe trip! If you have the chance, please respectfully tell Vladimir Putin that he's an ignorant, self-hating, likely a closeted homophobic homosexual diva princess... respectfully, please.

Clairvoyance of reality: do you see what I see?

At the time of writing, that annoying thing called Christmas was still going on. But I am no Grinch! First of all, I wish I were a mean or lean one like Grinch. Second, I do not have disorderly eyebrows like he does. Third and most importantly, I don't sneak around people's houses without my pants. Seriously, why doesn't Grinch ever wear pants, even when he dresses as Satan Santa? Imagine sitting on the lap of a fat bearded guy who has no pants on, and he tells you that you've been naughty... that's just a little too kinky.

And to further prove that I'm not some skinny green man with no pants on, I will lovingly start this blog with a quote of a song generally perceived as about the birth of Jesus:
  

"Said the night wind to the little lamb 

Do you see what I see? 

Way up in the sky little lamb 

Do you see what I see? 

A star, a star dancing in the night 

With a tail as big as a kite" - Noël Regney

Seriously, you have to be on acid to think that you're the night wind and ask a lamb if it sees what you see. A kite as big as the tail a comet? That's just trippy. And unless you're high on something, who would fly a kite in the middle of the night while talking to a lamb?

The reality is: this song is about LSD. I can only speculate why people want to do LSD around Christmas time.

Rewind a whole bunch...

I joined a mentoring program at work a while back. I asked my mentor to give me constructive feedback without sugarcoating, and boy oh boy did he ever. He even picked on my clothes because I dressed "too casual" for work. Before I unleashed the sarcastic beast on his bitch ass, he explained that perception was everything. I should be cognizant of others' perception because their perception becomes their reality.

Instead of making fun of his choice of wearing white sports socks with ugly black shoes, I decided to do a little experiment and teach him a lesson later on the detrimental results of making fun of my avant garde fashion sense.

I bought a bunch of shirts, pants and skirts for business women from Victoria's Secret. Oh, I bought some power suits, too, designed for business women of course. I began dressing like a sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman... I think I was actually reenacting the movie "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion", or perhaps I was trying to imitate Karen Walker from "Will and Grace"... anyway, I noticed the tone of my cowokers' voices began to change. They also responded to my emails faster. When I needed something done, they never missed a deadline. My new look as a sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman seemingly had made an impact on my coworkers.

Note to self: I need to get more miniskirts and blazers with huge shoulder pads.

Sarcastic Yogi in his wondrously sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman attire

Fast forward a little...

The C in Christmas: Santa comes more than once a year

It's been a while. I know. My asana practice has been scaled back to an all time low so my recent inspiration has been heavy on sarcasm but light on yoga (pun intended). It was partly because of the many piles of fecal matter dropped in the yoga community in the last few years. Google these words to find out more: john friend bikram lululemon yoga scandal

But don't worry, I plan on making a comeback in the yoga world next year. Yeah, bitches!

Anyway, this blog is brought to you by my latest Facebook profile photo:

Not sure how it happened but it did: I update my Facebook profile photo on an almost-daily basis. It is meant to be funny and provoke conversations at the same time. If you are one of the three followers of my blog, you will have seen my collections of Jesus and bacon art photos.

Fast forward a little...

There are many reasons why I am not a fan of this thing called "Christmas".

Obviously it's not really about the birth of Jesus. Trust me, Jesus and I have talked about it many times and we couldn't figure out the exact date of his birthday, particularly because we're not sure if we count twelve days of Christmas as twelve or as one. I mean, on the eighth day we have eight maids a-milking. Eight! That's sixteen breasts, seventeen if one of them came from Chernobyl. Goodness gracious me, that's a lot of breast milk! Oh, I can't wait for the eleventh day of Christmas while eleven pipers a-piping... that's gonna be one hell of an orgy.

Light on Sarcastic Yoga

Yes, I know. It's been a while since I posted a blog. A lot of yoga drama to be had in the last little while, I mean steamy stinky scandalous shit. Then I began a 28-day fitness challenge which distracted me from my usual yoga practice. It's not a bad thing though, because it felt like I needed a break from yoga, if that's even possible. I do miss the good ol’ days of yoga when it simply involved asana practice, kirtan and unassuming philosophy discussions, and none of the ridiculous drama, gold digging hidden agenda, or sex scandals.

Rewind a little...

There's a ton of goodness in the yoga world, so don't get your panties in a bunch and say "oh, you are just mean and negative". But the steamy stinky scandalous shit can't be simply ignored. Speaking of steamy stinky shit, once again I was honoured to have the opportunity to exchange blessings with Crusty Nono Myass, who did a great job in representing steamy stinky shit. Her high horse is seriously dead and she really needs to get off it. It's no longer fun to make fun of her. I hope she gets help for her obvious anger and self-hate problems.

Fast forward a bit...

Two big piles of steamy fecal matter were dropped in the western yoga world recently. There were a few more piles dropped elsewhere, but my plate is just not big enough for so much chocolate pudding.

Bikram Choudhury, the founder of Bikram yoga, was once again getting sued for failing to keep his little Dickram in his short shorts. You can find out more here. This isn't the first time his little Dickram got him into some hot water and will unlikely be the last. I'll say this though: this guy is a serious douchebag.

Another pile of steamy fecal matter was excreted by YogaGlo. In the name of "I own this shit", YogaGlo attempted to obtain a patent on the placement of a camera in an online yoga class and tried to shut down any online yoga class that put the camera in the back of the classroom. They even tried to stop any patent application to have "glo" in the applicant's name, like "Globox" which is a DVD rental company, or "Glow Hockey" which is a game on mobile devices. A few notes to self:

• Cancel YogaGlo subscription. I cannot support its non-sense bullying tactic to snub out competitions because it goes against all teachings of yoga.
• Sign the petition to stop YogaGlo's bullshit here.
• Get patents on these words: yoga, om, Surya Namaskar, namaste.
• Get patent on placement of toilet paper within 2 feet of any toilet bowl. If YogaGlo can get a patent on where to put a camera in a classroom, why can't I get a patent on where to put your shit tickets? Imagine you have to get a license to put toilet paper within 2 feet of your toilet bowl. Every time you wipe, I become richer. 

In case you wonder, the long-standing pile of tired old fecal matter called John Sans Testicles is still churning out load after load of poop with his coven angels and pole dancers. But that's nothing you don't already know.

Fast forward...

Are you ready? *drum roll*... this is Chapter 1 of the teacher training manual of Sarcastic Hatha Institute of Tantrika Yoga or S.H.I.T. Yoga! Yup, y'all been voluntarily enrolled in the most beautifulest transformatively avant garde hatha yoga system paradigm... just kidding.

Best of my Facebook profile pictures: Jesus, dino and other awesome stuff edition

Y'all know Jesus is awesome! Thanks to those Creationism folks like Kirk Cameron, whose drag name is Anita Dayly Bukkake, for their unconditionally selfless non-stop divine immaculate inspiration, I present to you another Best of my Facebook profile pictures, the Jesus, dino and other awesome stuff edition!

Y'all welcome!

Jesus riding his favourite teacup T-Rex, allegedly created by Leonardo DiCaprio da Vinci! 

The epic battle between Jesus and the evil unicorns, this is also the real story behind the seriously marvellous Avengers.

Check out my badass tats! Team Jesus and teacup T-Rex FTW, bitches!

Jesus makes love, not war, with a unicorn. 

Jesus living everyone's fantasy: doing it with twins!

This is like total Sridaiva!