Friday, March 20, 2009
If a snail was rolling by in a yugo in which the battery had died and he was waiting for the world to shift in paradigms enough to surreptitiously somehow roll it down an imaginary hill it would still be flying by and kicking ass in a clark barry fashion versus the current velocity of this day, that is inching (centimering) along in a style unknown since the byzantantians byzantined with chains around their ankles and blissful opium den induced nightmares in their hearts.
At least it’s Friday, which means, uh, urkle’s on in some alternate universe in which jerry ford is still president and he ordered, despite ratings in the tanker, and despite jaleel going fictitiously bald, that the show should continue ad infinitum even if they had to digitally incorporate that guy’s belly after he went on slimfast 8000, developed by Hester Prynne Inc. that was revamped and given precedent over Dupont in the landmark Knute Rockne vs. Curt Connors case in which lizard monsters playing football were forever vilified by the socialist revolution of 1997, an odd side note involving corporate restructuring, origins unkown, but don't worry capitalists, 2 days later Ronnie ray-gun came in with about 83 thousand uzis and frank castle slash rush limbaugh diatribes.
This insane universe's (but is it really that different from our own, quoth somberly) Reagan & Ford like to smoke mad cigars and watch the horses from the pressbox (the reporters sit in the infield and exchange horror stories) and then once the cigs are out they retire to an ultra elite luxury suite and draw tripped out impressionistic paintings of what they think everyone on the premises (jockeys, fans, horses, employees, mobsters, winos) look like. some days a ubiquitous tapestry is created that if left for future generations might bear fruit to the meaning of all creation, but more days than not, worried about being mistakenly misrepresented politically by their massively arcane modernistic capacities, they take a quick polaroid, light the parchment quilt on fire, and discretely file the snapshot in an album locked in a secret vault in a secret cave on a secret mountain.