Rockin’

noticePlease do not feed the rocks. They can lose their fear of human beings and become dangerous. Yes, I know they look cute and cuddly, but they are wild creatures, not pet rocks. And if you feed one rock today, there will be ten rocks waiting to be fed tomorrow. It may seem as if you’re doing a good thing, but it’s not healthy for rocks to become dependent on human handouts. They are not like birds, who can simply fly away to another bird feeder when you tire of them.

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falling rockI’m sure you’ve all seen the signs warning motorists about falling rocks ahead. Have you ever wondered how the highway department, which needs help just to get across the street, can predict the future so accurately? The answer is, these rocks have fallen before. They’re repeat offenders. But rather than get tough on them and lock them away, where tougher criminals have been known to actually break rocks to pass the time, we continue to let them terrorize our nation’s highways. This permissive, rocks-will-be-rocks mentality is emblematic of a culture of tolerance run amok. Today it’s falling rocks, but tomorrow it may be legalized necro-bestial butt sex. You can say “it’s gravity’s fault” all you want, but explaining behavior isn’t the same as excusing it. Plenty of other rocks grew up in the same circumstances, but somehow they managed to avoid the temptations of gravity and become solid, moss-gathering citizens.

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Do Not Touch RockAre you a rock addict? It’s never too late to quit and turn to the true Rock, who is ourlordandsaviorjesuschristamen. Some people will tell you that once the crack starts, falling is inevitable, and then nobody will want you. But the rejected stoner is to be the cornerstone of the temple, says the Bible. Peter means “rock” and Saint Peter guards the pearly gates, and once you penetrate that you’re pretty much free to rock in the bosom of Abraham, as I understand it. So Rock is a touchstone of sorts, only you mustn’t touch it if you can possibly help it, because it will lead you into sin and hellfire instead of into the arms of ourlordandsaviorjesuschristamen.

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave's writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the "share alike" provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

19 Comments


  1. pretty funny dave! I LOLed.

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  2. bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!
    Thanks Dave, I needed that..
    mmmm, it does explain a lot though.
    I confess. I touch rocks. I just don’t touch them, I bring them home. I hide them in the folds of my cloth, and in the dark places of my camera case, and shield their wickedness within the pockets of my jeans.
    I let them enter into the house of my dwelling and place them upon alters of idolatry.
    They sit upon my hearth and my mantel, and their wicked countenance beams forth from my window sills, dresser top and bottom of my washing machine.
    My children upon returning from their own dwellings to visit my humble cabin, nash their teeth and bemoan my wicked ways as the stumble over the rocks at the entry way to my porches (both front and back) and rail loudly at my blasphemous habit.
    “Mother!” they cry, “those rocks, you have them everywhere, they will be your downfall and ruination, one of these nights when you are out doing your pagan ritual of adoring the moon in all its glory, you will return into your dwelling house in darkness and stumble for your last time upon your piled up rocks of sin!

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  3. But Dave, what of the pebble? You of all should know the power of the pebble. Your name sake and all.

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  4. I’m a rock lover too… and find myself in good company. Fun read.

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  5. I was wondering just what you were using when you wrote this. Hopefully not a rock of crystal meth.

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  6. When we moved into our house here, we discovered the previous tenant had abandoned a litter of rocks in the house. We put them outside (it was spring, after all), but they were petulant, spoiled house rocks, and their whining and door-scratching kept us awake, so we gathered them up, took them down to the creek, and set them free in their native habitat, to sink or swim. I’m surprised to hear you have similar problems in the Keystone State.

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  7. Thanks for the comments, y’all.

    quiet regular – “LOL” can be verbed?!

    Brett – Sure, take all you need. I’m not using them.

    marja-leena – Maybe not. I think photography is permitted.

    Cady May – You may be a pagan and a blasphemer, but it sure sounds as if you’ve paid your dues slogging through those OT prophets. Or maybe all the old-time religions just sound alike, eh?

    I’ve always wanted to erect a megalith or two in my front yard.

    Keith – Namesake? You mean David with his sling?

    Tall Girl – Thanks!

    bev – I’d suspected as much.

    Joel – Hell no. That stuff is an environmental scourge.

    Rebecca – I hope you made sure the burlap sack was securely tied shut before you heaved them into the river.

    Yes, we’re all Keystoners here, aren’t we? Good point.

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  8. Petrophilia

    Those years I walked on River Road
    Avoiding rocks there falling
    I didn’t realize right then
    There was a higher calling.
    Their sign said, “Watch for Falling Rocks!�
    I knew I should avoid ‘em
    But little did I know the cost
    Of mingling with those fallen.
    But now you’ve shown
    They can’t be touched
    I realize my sin.
    You never know exactly where
    A fallen rock has been.
    And if I should be tempted by
    A stone with quartzy glitter
    I’ll quickly cast the thing aside
    As so much useless litter.
    Though all that glisters is not gold
    It still would bring me down
    To know I’ve had some dealings with
    The rocky sort in town.
    So I’ll stay on the beaten path
    And vow I will not teeter
    But when I die I pray
    The current gatekeeper’s not Peter.

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  9. Here’s hoping you get an onslaught of Google hits for “legalized necro-bestial butt sex.” That would so totally rock.

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  10. Absolutely hilarious! Of course, my response might have something to do with living in the country’s arguably most conservative state. Rock on, Dave!

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  11. leslee – Thanks.

    Joan – Are you sure you don’t want me to set up a blog for you? It would be so much fun to read! (Not that I don’t like reading your light verse in the comments threads here and at Riverside Rambles, of course. I’m honored.)

    You never know exactly where
    A fallen rock has been.

    Indeed.

    Lorianne – That would be cool. Google is already the single biggest source of visitors to this site, as you can imagine, but it would be nice if bestiality fans had somewhere to go other than just the “Hot raccoon sex” post.

    Carolyn – I hear that stoning is the usual punishment.

    mb – Glad to hear this plays well in Idaho! I can actually see myself moving there someday. I always feel uncomfortable when I’m surrounded by other people who think like me. There’s little danger of that there, I guess.

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  12. So many permutations of the word “rock”! Nice essay, Dave!

    I’ve tried to convince Joan to start a “blog of her own” (like Virginia Woolf’s “a room of one’s own”) , but she seems to prefer to respond to blog postings like mine and yours.

    That’s okay; we all get to read her verse effusions, which are blog comments elevated to another level! Perhaps the idea will catch on!

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  13. Yeah! The only problem is that it can be difficult to go back and find those comments later on. I’d love to see a WordPress plug-in that would allow me to send the best comments here into some kind of archive that could be displayed on the sidebar.

    Reply

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