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------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.
----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.
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“And Lot’s wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.
So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes.”
- Kurt Vonnegut Slaughterhouse Five
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I wrote a lot of stuff that they never used on Scooby Doo. I had the gang joining forces with the Buddha on one episode and when ever they would come across a clue they’d talk it out and ask the Buddha what he thought and he’d always shrug and say, “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.” and the audience would laugh.
I also had Scooby and Shaggy kinda making fun of him by acting all pious and meditating. Shaggy would look at Scooby and say, “Hey Scoob! Whats the sound of one hand clapping? and then he’d swallow a whole banana cream pie and say “Yum!” and Scooby would snicker.
The end involved the Buddha being chased by a mechanical gorilla in a pink tutu.
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notebook - 5.11.12
and of all this glorious bright sighing
that the commercials are blarbling on about
who are these people having so much fun?
Hey does anyone remember some J-E-L-L-o commercial from a year or so ago?
There were three women in red dancing
They had become so overwhelmed by the taste of J-E-L-L-o that they broke into spontaneous dance in a Deli and knocked over the salad bar. And then everyone just started busting shit up. The anger spilled over and politicians fought openly on the congressional floor and bears openly made love on mainstreet in front of God and country.
in front of all the nice people we forgot to fuck and kill
who’s gonna buy alll these reasonable priced entry level sedans
if we don’t play nice
You idiots wouldn’t know how to drive a Suburu even if you did have the balls.
A stranger called me and asked what kinda car I thought Teddy Roosevelt would drive. I instantly thought a Chevette because Teddy seemed like the kinda guy that didn’t need to drive a fancy car to feel better about himself, but I figure its the feds on the other end and they’re looking for commies so I act dumb and say “I dunno, a Lincoln?!”
The Buddha uses incense sticks to light the dynamite.
I bring my coven of blood to class in a Tupperware bowl. I always offer it to others and then I sip it coolly from its hard plastic tomb.
- my old geometry II teacher wrote a book and its really kinda fucked up. Now he’s rich and famous and he drives around in a big truck that looks like it was designed by ZZ-top.
Back in the days before free 24 hour internet porn men where forced to masturbate to this old King Kong Jessica Lagne clip. Not that I would know anything about it. I think I read it in a news article somewhere or Rrrick told me about it.
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pic from coitusandcarnage:Killer Nun, 1978
“I sure hope god is a woman and when I get to heaven I sure hope she punches me right in the nuts while the audience laughs.”
- Bob Barker in some interview last week
(Source: mazohist)
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various notes on 5.9.12
Hey, our black president just said gay marriage is cool.
I jotted this down and then laughed and cried for about twenty minutes thinking about what Miles Davis would think about all this. I betcha he’d say “Its a real motherfucker.” and Dan Rather could be seen, nodding off camera.
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In the end you will lose everything, even your self. I know everyone tries to console one another with ideas of consciousness and rebirth and enlightenment but stop being a fucking whiner for just one second and think. Do you remember before you were born? Was it painful? Did you have a good job? or is it just kinda a strange happy blur?
DO you feel anxious about that time you didn’t exist or does it feel ludicrous, like you’ve always existed.
holy shit
you
are
so
hot.
- cursed the one eyed god
What most people do is they look at faith through the spectrum of time. Like your consciousness is gamblin on the the future being optimistic or some such. No. Faith exists eternal. It eternally is. meaning its a state of being… holy fuck I’m really high… sorry guyz derp derpy derp.
SO lets turn the above story into something else lets see - death - who you were before existence…
Who were you when the rivers were being born
when the curtains where being torn
and time had a lil’ thing for bestiality
Who where you when sin up and died
and your mother cried that, “God lied”
and impregnated the dual hides of a lion
and the mayor from Cincinnati.
Wow, the Knicks fuckin suck.
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Soon we’ll all be dead and tumblr will just keep rolling and scrolling
some eternally strange homage to TV and memes and ideas of love
What will the archeologists say about
the shy chubby girl happily exposing herself to everything
the 60 dollar bottles of vodka that taste like nothing
the cute torture of endless possibilities that never turn into anything
What will they sing
to the little ham sandwiches at our funeral
— Ghengis Khan
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I’m writing a blog about a story I’m gonna write, because studies show the internet loves meta.
Anywho, I’m writing and old crime noir story about a cop that’s investigating a rash of suicides.
The deceased are all middle aged to older men who have purchased cyberlife companions, you know, sex robots or cyborg wives or whatever you want to call them. Upon further investigation all the cyborg companions are highly sophisticated and modified versions that may or may not belong to the feds. I’ve been told not to talk about it as there are highly classified elements in play.
Anyway, men are killing themselves and no one knew why until we began hacking into their robot companions. Its revealed a sad and twisted tale. The men were being blackmailed by the company that built the robots. The men would sign what they thought was a fixed 30 year contract and after a hefty down payment and 12 monthly payments, BAM!, their monthly payment would double. They’d all unwittingly signed contracts with an adjustable rate, so there was no legal recourse. If the owner did not pay the robot could be disposed of anyway the company saw fit as it was rightfully their property. If they didn’t pay the robot was programmed to self destruct. To make matters worse the women robots all told the men beforehand that they were killing themselves because the men obviously didn’t love them. In some cases, the grief stricken men killed themselves before the robot ever had a chance. Records showed that many of the men could barely afford the robot spouse as it was, doubling the payments had literally killed them or that’s what I was out to prove.
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Here I am, very much the Kurt Vonnegut fashionista plate, deciding just where to target market this voluptuous chunk of man-flesh.
Nice work Jimmy! Note to self, next time make t-shirt with plunging neckline or maybe a half shirt. Then all the sexy time belong to me.
