Taste Trip

Miracle Berry Tablets:  Miracle Fruit (Synsepalum dulcificum) Tablets are guaranteed to contain extract from first grade Miracle Fruit berries. Fresh miracle berries are freeze dried moments after being picked to produce powdered Miracle Berries with the same effect as fresh berries. The powder is then compressed into Miracle Fruit Tablets for easier usage.  They contain no artificial additives (such as colorants, acids or preservatives).


Buzz Buttons:  Buzz Button™ flowers grow on the Acmella oleracea or Spilanthes oleracea plant. A member of the sunflower family (Asteraceae), Buzz Button™ flowers are also known as sechuan button and toothache plant.
The bright golden yellow bud of the Buzz Button™ flower is oval to round in shape. It has a slightly tart grass like flavor though its real oral appeal lies not in its taste but the electrifying sensation it produces. Eating the bud of the Buzz Button™ flower has a numbing and strong tingling affect on the mouth, the more of the flower consumed the more intense and longer lasting the sensation.


Have your own Taste Trip!

Sin Jones

Beware of the Broken Doll










Ode to the Broken Doll, by Sin Jones

Beware of the broken:

Broken dolls are never the same they once were. You may mend the cracks, but once broken their wounds are ever present. There is no amount of glue, nor spackle that can put them back together again.

Broken dolls are survivors, with each break they put on the mend, it only gives their brokenness continuity. They may even make YOU their glue.

Mount their heads upon the wall, to remind you: Broken is Broken.

You cannot save them from themselves.

You may take pity on them, but if they fall apart you have only yourself to blame when the pieces fall in your lap.

Take heed the warning… Beware of the Broken doll!

Sin Jones

Messages from the Avellenau

Whether you enjoy the 1973 or 2006 rendition of The Wicker Man film, there’s some underlying messages throughout the symbolism that may be lost to those symbol-illiterate.  How lost will you become?

Is Avellenau the Isle of Apples, a goddess of Apple Orchards or the warning of Merlin the Great in the Welsh poem Avellenau?

The Black Book of Carmarthen XVII

Thirteenth Century

Sweet appletree, your branches delight me,
Luxuriantly budding my pride and joy!
I will put before the lord of Macreu,
That on Wednesday, in the valley of Machawy
Blood will flow.
Lloegyr’s (England’s) blades will shine.
But hear, O little pig! on Thursday
The Cymry will rejoyce
In their defence of Cymimawd,
Furiously cutting and thrusting.
The Saesons (Saxons) will be slaughtered by our ashen spears,
And their heads used as footballs.
I prophesy the unvarnished truth –
The rising of a child in the secluded South.

Sweet and luxuriant appletree,
Great its branches, beautiful its form!
I predict a battle that fills me with far.
At Pengwern, men drink mead,
But around Cyminawd is a deadly hewing
By a chieftain from Eryri – til only hatred remains.

Sweet yellow appletree,
Growing in Tal Ardd,
I predict a battle at Prydyn,
In defense of frontiers.
Seven ships will come
Across a wide lake,
Seven hundred men come to conquer.
Of those who come, only seven will return
According to my prophecy.

Sweet appletree of luxuriant growth!
I used to find food at its foot,
When because of a maid,
I slept alone in the woods of Celyddon,
Shield on shoulder, sword on ,
Hear, 0 little pig! listen to my
As sweet as birds that sing on Monday
When the sovereigns come across the sea,
Blessed by the Cymry (Welsh), because of their strength.

Sweet appletree in the glade,
Trodden is the earth around its base.
The men of Rhydderch see me not,
Gwendyyd no longer loves nor greets me
I am hated by Rhydderch’s strongest scion.
I have despoiled both his son and daughter:
Death visits them all – why not me?
After Gwnddoleu no one shall honour me,
No diversions attend me,
No fair women visit me.
Though at Arderydd (Arthuret) I wore a golden torque
The swan-white woman despises me now.

Sweet appletree, growing by the river,
Who will thrive on its wondrous fruit?
When my reason was intact
I used to lie at its foot
With a fair wanton maid, of slender form.
Fifty years the plaything of lawless en
I have wandered in gloom among spirits
After great wealth, and gregarious minstrels,
I have been here so long not even sprites
Can lead me astray. I never sleep, but tremble at the thought
Of my Lord Gwenddoleu, and y own native people.
Long have I suffered unease and longing–
May I be given freedom in the end.

Sweet appletree, with delicate blossom,
Growing concealed, in the wind!
At the tale was told to me
That my words had offended the most powerful minister,
Not once, not twice, but thrice in a single day.
Christ! that my end has come
Before the killing of Gwndydd’s son
Was upon my hands!

Sweet appletree with your delicate blossom,
Growing amid the thickets of trees!
Chwyfleian foretells,
A tale that will come to pass
A staff of gold, signifying bravery
Will be given by the glorious Dragon Kings.
The grateful one will vanquish the profaner,
Before the child, bright and bold,
The Saesons shall fall, and bards will flourish

Sweet appletree of crimson colour,
Growing, concealed in the wood of Celyddon:
Though men seek your fruit, their search is vain
Until Cadwaladyr comes from Cadfaon’s meeting
To Teiwi river and Tywi’s lands,
Till anger and anguish come from Arawynion,
And the long-hairs are tamed.

Sweet appletree of crimson colour,
Crowing, concealed, in the wood of Celyddon
Though men seek your fruit, their search is vain,
Till Cadwalad comes from Rhyd Rheon’s meeting,
And with Cynon advances against the Saeson.
Victorious Cymry, glorious their leaden,
All shall how their rights again,
All Britons rejoice, sounding joyful horns.
Chanting songs of happiness and peace!

Perhaps the Ignorant shouldn’t eat of the Pythagorean Pentagram found within the Apple.  It will no doubt be their un-doing…

Apples have been used as metaphor and allegory for thousands of years.  The English translation of The Apple Trees seems to lend more evidence to the meaning of Avellenau as a metaphor vs. a literal ‘Goddess’.


From the Movie Script:


“My friends, enough now.

We shall all reassemble outside

the town hall at : sharp…

and then process through the

village and the countryside,

down to the beach below the stones,

by the route which has

become sacred to our rite.

This year at the procession’s end,

as has already been proclaimed,

a holy sacrifice will be offered up jointly to Nuada,

our most sacred god of the Sun,

and to Avellenau, the beloved

goddess of our orchards,

in order that we may furnish

them with renewed power…

to quicken the growth of our crops.

– Hail the Queen of the May!

– Hail the Queen of the May!

Hail the Queen of the May!”

There’s a good reason, that I too use ‘The Poison Apple‘ to embody a set of ideals and I’ve been known to hang around the May Pole


Merlin speaks of The Apple Trees, compare it to the themes in The Wickerman, and tell me if you still believe it may be a Goddess of Apples, vs. a symbol to represent ideas, and what ideals you believe they represent.

The Queen Bee leads a procession of proverbial bee-keepers to indulge in the Apple Tree. A Devil’s Apple?  Perhaps…  What sacrifice is made when those made to live behind the veil, dwell there without ever having the courage to pass through it!

Man banishes his gods to other dimensions then allows the fear and guilt to shame him into humble servitude.  What is in worship of the Avellenau?  Why not serve yourself?  You can cut the apple in half and see the pentagram, but beware of the seed.  It’s poison will no doubt kill you, a cyanide of awakening if you dare taste it’s sweetness.

Like King Arthur awaits in Avalon (Avellenau) waiting to be released to bring forth his dream of Camelot, the gods of the Apple Orchards await for you to release your inner-god.

Would you go down on bended knee to a goddess of the Orchards?  Or would you grow the Apple Tree strong and tall?  The spring bears the fruit, but you must sow it to reap.

The May Pole Song: (The Wicker Man 1973)

In the woods

there grew a tree

And a fine, fine tree

was he

And on that tree there was a limb

And on that limb

there was a branch

And on that branch

there was a nest

And in that nest

there was an egg

And in that egg

there was a bird

And from that bird

a feather came

And of that feather was

A bed

And on that bed

there was a girl

And on that girl

there was a man

And from that man

there was a seed

And from that seed

there was a boy

And from that boy

there was a man

And for that man

there was a grave

And from that grave

there grew

A tree

And on that bed

there was a girl

And on that girl

there was a man

And from that man there was a seed,

and from that seed there was a boy

And from that boy

there was a man

And for that man

there was a grave

And from that grave

there grew

A tree

And on that tree there was a limb

and on that limb

There was a branch and on that

branch there was a nest

And in that nest

there was an egg

And in that egg there was a bird,

and from that bird, a feather came

And of that feather was

A bed…

Sin Jones

Happy New Year!

“Happy New Year!” That’s what they say anyway but it’s the same shit just  different flies.  People don’t change, events change.  What has really changed about them?  Nothing, as far as I can tell.

People still act like retarded zombies.

Does a shaved head always mean you have Cancer?  Apparently it does. I assure you, my tits are in tact.  They are quite stellar.


Living your life on your own terms doesn’t mean you have somehow changed the way people think, or view the world.  Mostly, they react like programmed robots.

A woman with a shaved head means, she must have cancer.  Breast Cancer.  I have a nice rack, it doesn’t mean I’ve had a boob job.  I’m 100% all woman.  Though, I imagine it a compliment at my age.  I’ll be 39 in two days, and the girls are still sitting at attention.  Pretty impressive, I suppose…

Get a grip people.  Women have been removing the hair from their heads voluntarily for thousands of years.  You’d think in the 21st century it wouldn’t make you bat an eyelash, but it still does.  I’m constantly checking my proverbial watch for the century.  Last time I checked, Corseting was an option, no longer a requirement, often times it’s even a kink.  I’m reminded of that 65 year old woman with a waistline the circumference of a CD. Amazing!  In our modern society oddities like that even make the Guinness Book of World Records.  What an accomplishment! *snark*

You people are a bunch of weirdos, and they say I’m strange!  At best I’m eccentric, some would say neurotic but you know what?  I’m the most sane and normal person I know.  People around me are the nut bags!!!

When you gather to ring in the New Year, you’ll bump into old acquaintances and those you haven’t seen you in a while.  The sympathetic stares, the whispering in the back corner of the room… And for what?  The bitch ain’t got no hair!  Deal with it.

For me, I don’t let people get away with being stupid and reactionary.  I walk right up, and engage them.

“Soooooo, you wanna know about my bald head huh?  Here, let me fill in that the hollow you call a backbone…”

I suppose the scar on the back of my head adds to the stigma.  For me, it’s an opportunity to peddle cupcakes and tell tall tales, and they fall for it every time.

I can tell these fools I got into a car accident, had brain surgery, or cracked my skull chasing after Santa on Christmas and they’d believe me.

Funny thing is, the truth is far weirder to them than some tragic tale of cancer eating away at my gray matter.

I can’t outgrow my genes, but I can certainly surpass them.  This chick, always goes out in a blaze of fire.

Androgenic Alopecia

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