Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Some people know how to enjoy fine literature. Girl Scout cookies, Mexican beer, and a healthy bowel movement are the perfect accompaniment to thought provoking passages written by one of this generation’s, nigh, any generation’s, finest authors. This is on the authority of the green lantern corps, if they existed. Don’t question, just imbibe.
The one thing about those little blue guys, though, wait, were they blue, not like smurf blue, they were more aqua, was that they were very high fallutin’, they thought they knew everything, which of course they did, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. Maybe that’s why all those robots wanted to kill them and then sneak arsenic into their dog food and ice cream sauce.
I won’t say anything about last nite’s sopranos because it’s so overdone. Not the show, but the commentary. Let’s just say I’m aware and I approve. Of what, well, you know, the whole dillio, the way the show is going. I like it. Now that you’ve read that and understand you may adjust your viewing habits accordingly.
That guy from wings will do a good job as the sandman I think. Someone remind me why I write this crap, again? oh yeah, to push the book. It’s all about the book. Buy it. See how happy that guy looks? He’s taking a crap and reading. Reading this. Er, this when it was better. Back in those dark ages known as 2002 thru 2004. man, if only I could impart to you how good it is. Be a part of the movement. It’s not about money, it’s about crap. The good kind(s). Salud.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
It’s too late to change the sheets, and she’s almost organized. Words of wisdom from the source. I’m the man, er, no I’m not, I’m a man. The transcriber of horse shit from the brain. Someday I’m gonna get out of this Podunk, er, glob.
Congrats to Tracy for getting a kick ass poem published in what appears to be a kickass literary online entity. Kudos and, um, wait, candy bars, no, fuck, I dunno, I really don’t know. There was violence outside and I ran. Hey, shit, I’mma be a pops, I don’t have time to get involved in this guy beefin with that guy over 83rd and the 9th, it’s just not in my parameters. Yup, you heard correctly, parameters.
Marmaduke says hi. Wait, no he doesn’t. heatchliff is on payroll. The millionaire’s grandson, not the cat. Not that you thought that. And by cat I mean feline, not cool and composed character from some other decade that may have never existed. I mean, do you have proof? But what do we have proof of? Exactly. Nada, mein freunds.
Sometimes I feel like it’s just run its course. This shit. I mean, really, what the fuck am I doing still pumping this shit out on the non regular? What is the goddamm point? Nobody reads balderdash except people looking for Dan Cortese, and that’s cool & the gang, truss me, not complaining, I mean, I never thought I’d see the day that flavor flav would be reality showing it with hoochies hooched out and chuck just shakin his head and knowing nature of the beast notwithstanding, and there’s no reason that I shouldn’t have thought that, but for some, whatever reason, at the time, I thought it was our shit, or their shit, I didn’t have any preconceived or misconceived or falsetto or whatever notions about my place in this shit, ie none, but I mean, I just thought that, this was some shit that would never get coopted, even though it was already happening, but I didn’t think they’d be blatant about that shit, but maybe it’s just the pawn or the bishop tricking you into thinking that the queen is in charge, when the whole time the rook is sitting up on that balcony in the Hollywood hills laughing at us all.