The Ruby Slippers. The Red Shoes. The Glass Slipper. The other shoe... But what about the banana flops?

Personally, I think the banana flops rank higher in history, or should, than any other aforementioned fairy tale footwear. These opulent yellow clogs are considered by the masses - okay, the majority - well, at least a good crowd - alright, a definitive minority possibly almost every once in a while - okay, at this very second at least one crazy surprise i know you're ticklish here kinda chick is sitting at Los Angeles airport considering these obtrusive rubber toesy covers in fact and indeed, majority or no: official Magick Slippers.

Even on the most unforgiving Sunset Blvd, covered in yesterday's Bubalicious and women who would be homeless if it weren't for their stilettos, these vivacious sandals spoil one's heel with an Army of Squish, eliminating repetitive impact from our doomed biped joints, allowing the spine to reach full height, the hips to rotate freely, the knees glide effortlessly like a hot engine burning biofuel. These shoes feel like magick to the avid walker. But that is not the basis of their name.

The color: yellower than yield, surer than sunshine, brighter than Big Bird, more distracting than the itsy bitsy tiny weeny. Upon entering any room, one becomes the carnival that came to town, the clown that actually got sent in, the submarine we all wanna live on. Obscene silliness is a direct consequence of engaging in los zapatos amarillos, but glowing footprints too, are still not the foundation of their legendary powers.

In the study of Chaos Magick, where rules are arbitrary beyond the extend of their usefulness, belief deconstruction is a widely recognized spiritual practice. "Deconditioning" keeps reality flexible and in a state of Not Knowing (warm clay aching for shape - the charged battery, ever-ready). Let the Christian Scientist heal broken bones through prayer, let the raw foodist live to a healthy 120, let the Native American dance rain into the desert - heck, let this massive 747 fly me from LA to Detroit - all advancements in human evolution, all social revolutions, each and every little daily miracle emerge from a gap in the system structure. Experience is the box we are trying to think outside of.

So instead of tossing the banana flops out on the corner for one of Hollywood's sequined wearing street people to have a peek or a pee at, I, in my long anticipated escape from LA, in an attempt to avoid overweight luggage fees at the airport (super hero cape: gotta go, squirt gun arsenal: not so much, magick botanicals: a natural priority - I have a very safe place reserved for these). Yes, on the eve of their demise, I put the nerf ball footies on for one final squish - only then was their true power thus revealed. Systems shattered, beliefs crumbled, and power grew with each step, for not one preoccupied actress busy looking fabulous, not one Beverly Hills pooch leading their owner around on diamond leash, not one "that's not your natural color?!" greasy record producer/Save On cashier did not break, double take and reconsider their entire perspective on life. Smiling at absurdity, giggling in appreciation, I used other's perceptions of me to shape my reality, open up a space for ever-ready possibility, become the non-threatening well-liked ray of sunshine they offered me to be and walk right through airport security (keeping certain places very safe as they were intended to be).

Now run to your closet, dig through the drawer - you know you have Magick Slippers too. Put them on, like you shouldn't like you're not sure you can like you're not supposed to, but do it anyway because doing more of what you've always done will get you more of what you've always had. It's time to throw a monkey wrench in and let the machine ask you how to run.

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