Keith: As we all know, contributor D.R. Monroe is a committed practitioner of Diamond Way Buddhism, and a respectful follower of Lama Ole Nydahl. With such an extraordinary resource at our disposal, we’ve decided to conduct an intellectual roundtable on some of the most inspiring and misunderstood aspects of this extremely pious ethos.

Adam: Yeah, like do monks have sex?

Dan: (sigh)

Adam & Keith: (silently wait for an answer, Adam eventually humps the air from his chair)

Dan: (exasperated) If they live in a monastery, they have no sex.

Keith: Wow, what if they don’t? Can they have sex?

Dan: Yes, like the Dalai Lama can have sex because he has no home,

Adam: (interrupting) The world calls that a “bum.”

Dan: (ignoring) But Boddhisatvas that live in Tibet temples cannot.

Keith: The Dalai Lama doesn’t live in a monastery?

Adam: I want to be a monk who isn’t religious and has lots of sex!

Dan: No, he doesn’t.

Keith: So he just lives in a hotel or something?

Adam: I think he goes back and forth between L.A. and Manhattan.

Keith: Oh right, I heard he does a verse on the new Beastie Boyz album.

Dan: He does, he created the Beastie Boyz out of lotus petals and some flour. He travels constantly… like the lama in my lineage has no “home.”

Keith: Okay, but do they pay taxes then?

Adam: Can the Dalai Lama 69?

Dan: I think he can, if he knows what that is. What kind of taxes?

Keith: Income?

Dan: I don’t think he has an income. He depends on “alms of kindness.”

Keith: So he is a bum!

Adam: How come I have to be religious to not pay taxes?

Keith: So, if I gave him a Snickers as my “alm of kindness”, would he eat it?

Dan: Yes, he would.

Adam: This is all very confusing.

Keith: What if I offered him a big steak and potatoes, or a Big Mac, would he eat those things?

Daniel: Probably, I’m not sure if he’s a vegetarian or not.

Keith: Wow… sweet gig.

Daniel: Not every day or anything, he has to be ascetic.

Adam: “If I gave the Dalai Lama a snickers, would he eat it?”

Dan: Haha, of course.

Keith: It’s not “of course.”

Adam: I don’t think he can… I mean, I’m no expert, but…

Keith: Neither do I. What kind of a “holy man” can eat a Snickers?

Adam: If the Dalai Lama can eat a Snickers… well, count me out!

Dan: Sorry, I didn’t mean to patronize, but he definitely can. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not gonna go out and buy one.

Adam: He can’t, he has no money!

Dan: I read a book about this exact fact, that a lot of scholars in the 80s went through this phase where they thought bums became monks just to not be labeled “bums.” Because when you become a monk, you are freed from your wife and children and job with no repercussions and you are considered as a projection of goodness.

Adam: If I ever lose all my money, that’s the day I become religious!

Keith: It’s a good idea.

Dan: It’s actually pretty weird, because all these Asian bums were becoming Monks and they were shady folks and actually gave 100s of followers AIDS, and they were “banished” to Western Europe.

Adam: I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dan eat a Snickers, now that I think about it.

Keith: The Dalai Lama is a “successful” bum.

Daniel: It’s a little more complicated than that.

Keith: Not really. He’s probably got a lot of money.

Daniel: He drives a BMW.

Keith: He only talks about math and science, or “the government”, just like any other bum I’ve ever met.

Dan: Very true, but you are accumulating some bad Karma here. The Dalai Lama will send you to hell.

Keith: Not if I offer him a Snickers.

Dan: Do it. He’ll take it, but he’ll be cautious like a squirrel.

Adam: He probably eats, like, one bite a day.

Dan: Are we finished here?

Keith: Yeah, I think that about covers it.

Adam: (humps the air)

A dapper, extremely articulate middle-aged man who frequents art museums and routinely recites insightful commentary about all the works, but who also reeks of gasoline.

A zany network television sitcom about Dave, a late 20s middle class urbanite, and his roommate, Karl Marx:

Dave: Kaaaaarl, do you have to host another International here tonight?!
Karl: (shouting) The tyranny of the Bourgeoisie is unceasing!
Dave: But it’s Tuesday and I have to be up early for work in the morning…
Karl: (shouting) You have nothing to lose but your chains!

    It was noon, and the center-most part of this large area of jungle still smoldered.  The chest-high grass and thin, looping trees had just been through 7 straight hours of landscaping by high powered, 21st century artillery.  Uncharacteristically, at this moment Grabber realized he never got to enjoy a quiet moment with a pristine jungle forrest.  His “moments with nature”, if he even had any, always had to come at times like this: when the smells of gunpowder, blood, piss and fear were still in the air… the last earthly remnants of whoever it was that had just crossed his path.  Grabber took all of this in with a gigantic inhale, and turned around to find the worshipping gaze of thousands of indigenous eyes, all joyous in their new found freedom and also silently pleading for their hero to stay and lead them.  But Jack Grabber isn’t a leader.  He much prefers landscaping.

    “Fuck these guys,” was the last real thought he had before making his move.  Sure, he kept on thinking, but it wasn’t anything that could be expressed in words.  A man can realistically only devise how to disable 6 men by himself, 7 tops, depending on their alignment.  Grabber knew beforehand how to take out the first 11 of these bastards, but after that it would be all improvisation.  At this point things would be totally out of his control, just the way he liked them.  The 4 or 5 bullets he’ll have inevitably acquired wouldn’t mean squat, he’d barely notice them.  It was what to do about the 12th, 13th, 14th, and so on.  But you can’t think about them.  Well, maybe you can, but it’s just, “Fuck these guys.“