It Is and It Isn't

I feel irrationally confused, entirely separated, and desperately searching.

Blank slates are the most terrifying of them all. Find a something from the nothing? I shudder and retreat to comfort in things known and overdone. Humming in the invisible distance is the rock of my lowest depth, but until I bear it raw and tangible witness I may as well not hear a thing. Do you ever reminisce of your life, and suddenly experience a montage of the entire course of choices you've made, fearful and blissful, genuine and plastic? Sometimes I do, although it usually coincides with a healing dose of psychedelic substances.

My present in-the-moment selfhood is like eating a birthday cake. I yearn for a wholesome bite of contiguous lovely, yet the spongy, airy interior pales against the sickly and favored icing. Clearly, the meat, the core, the foundational necessity of my lifecake exceeds my fickle drizzling of circumstantial thirst. But I rarely peel away the icing and thank the cake itself -- the cakey bit that truly makes it cake.

Woe is me, I wail from an oasis of luxury, ease, and apparently cake.

I peer at that inner "-ness" to my existence once in a blue moon, twice if I'm distracted (most of this admittedly brief, pretentious, and uninformed journey I've spent in a trance of consuming desire and distinction). In these times I wish to roll carelessly down grassy hills and frolic and dissolve and weave. I speak with my friends as though this is my overriding state of mind and action.

Look, I'm a faker, and a pathological liar to friend and foe and self alike. Don't pity me for that, though this may feel like a desperate fishing pole in such murky water. Connect with me because you feel it too. "It", the awareness of your imperfect and haphazard performance against your brilliant essence -- not against the dance of dull influences and self-righteous pressures -- and the contrast represents your current location.

Sometimes I fret about how other people see me. Sometimes I stare at my reflection in the mirror for longer than I imagine I should. The greatest narcissistic devilry of my life has been the unctuous hawking of a persona I could never really embody. But I have seen glimmers of what happens when I shut the store down and quit selling this bullshit, and I want to get more off-hours, so to speak.

Jeez, do I tire of whining and self-doubt.

Maybe that's why I so readily turn to vice and pretense as a pass of time. Maybe I oughta pick up knitting, or talk to my mom more often. I absentmindedly hunt in the dark with a blunt knife, hoping to subdue a demonic ego that constantly wanders a step behind and in front of me. Aware that I'm surrounded and not confidant, I can only stay the course.

Blank slates are terrifying because the thought of erasure and renewal means a thorough assessment of what I have and haven't done. So I'm afraid of heights but I want to jump off the only cliff worth jumping.

Teach me and hug me and explore love with me. You who would do so are the brightest stars in the sky; the others are helplessly distant in a seemingly infinite space. I wonder how far I shine...there goes that dang demon again! I'd better hop off this loathsome soapbox so I can binge it away. It's never worked before, but hell, I'm shooting for the long con.

I'm lonely and bitter
unless there's a listener

Whelp,
Fuck

Wod a Day

Well, well, and yes, also well, what have we here? A wet sandwich? Two pieces of soggy leavened bread embracing a limp and veiny cake of meat? Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself...when I say "what have we here," I of course refer to a "here" of which the likes of you noble nibblers know hardly the least. So let's have at it, shall we. Shouldn't we? Won't we?

It all began -- well, I suppose most of it began -- really, honestly now, only a small portion of it began -- thinking cosmically now -- the grand It -- you must understand, no? -- this Tuesday past. Riots were practically shitting out of the Earth's crust, and I hadn't even had my morning self-asphyxiating masturbatory eulogy. But enough of my home life. Tuesday brought with it riots: people, human beings, and fucking assholes were up in arms (although I could have sworn the assholes didn't have any) regarding some event. And if it weren't for Shabbeus Duntwod, I would have been nun the wiser.

Yes, good Shabbeus "the wodster" Duntwod, made sure to proclaim my inferior wisdom of nunnery that day, that fateful and vaguely-reminiscent-of-toast day. Y'see, it seems that all these protestations were shaking the faith of the faithful, what with their paradigm-shifting vigor and ethos-shattering stench. I was delousing my third cat for the fourth time (if you know what I mean (knowing wink)) when The Wodster broke me the news.

"Thhhhglhuuub," he exclaimed.

I nearly started. Certainly came. And forcibly farted.

"Sez who? I know my rights as a nun of the Catholic Cornhole and I say that other people's bullshit doesn't matter. If they want to grumble, let 'em. It's a free goddamned country," I thought to myself. Then I addressed Shabbeus:

"Who let you in?"

Something had to be afoot, for if we had nothing to be a foot, how would we walk? On our hands? You fool! Moreover, I hadn't expected to grace mine rheumy eyes with The Wodster until Thursday, and yet here the devil was on Tuesday. Boy, was I in for a treat. Or a trick. Dun-dun-dun...it was Halloween night the whole time! Betcha didn't see that coming. Anyways, turns out Shabbeus turned out to turn out real good turned slowly over a fire -- that reminds me, Shabbeus is (was) a pig. Now he's on the list of my many bowel movements, sewers away, fertilizing babes or poisoning minds, whatever those whelps call it nowadays.

Right. The whole riot/protest/people outside my head bit was still biting at me, as I'm sure it nips at you now, hmphyesindeed. I hadn't the slightest clue where to begin my search, so I instead opted to make some toast and toss it at the elderly -- something I do when struck with deep ennui or fright-induced erections -- but I picked the wrong fuckin' day to do that, believe you me. You believe me, right? Because if any of this yarn be true, Tuesday past was no time to be lobbing crispy bread bits at the less fortunate (let's be honest, the elderly really drew the shit straw). Yea, it was mostly terrible to watch: gangly sacks of meat were just lumbering around out there in the street, some kinda hominid-badger hybrid was barking out orders on a sousaphone (kinda like a megaphone but for Italians), Greg was shitting bricks onto Joe who was crapping ass into Ma who hadn't shat in years, and there I was, grinning like a madman and sharing my toast with them all. You can imagine what happened next!

Whaddya know,
Heh

Get Reel, Norway!

And who can say what our true callings are? An eternal search, I think. The balance between accepting where you are and yearning for a place you've never even imagined.

There are some days when my connections to other humans are ineffably the only things that matter, as if the very persistence of my existence were predicated on those to whom I've dedicated portions of life-love. Only one of myriad tensions which yank me this way or that. Too many directions point north... I wish that we fulfill such desires (the core desires, the ones that beat gravely quiet rhythms in our hearts, not the boisterous and fleeting ones that can wreck psyches, homes, and species, but the ones that always whisper truths) before our planetary performances pitter to their penultimate pulses. Until then, I can think of no wiser route than to Kung-fu-death-grip onto the directions that offer mindful peace, a sort of joyful unrest.

The Salty Scum

There is a sham, a charlatan among us! This, my friends, I will not stand for, and so I sit  now while I enumerate the various and costly taxes which such a presence imposes upon us good, hardworking folk and up-standers (or up-sitters in some cases).

You fecal fraud, sitting in your ivory tower of filth and dismembered copies of Orwell's "1984" - smiling down with all the charm of a fairly bad-tempered swine that had recently taken to eating old boiled eggs! You have given nothing but grief to those around you - the good-natured, hygienic swine of my flock. Sneering, you spit upon their pristine asses and comment on the utter depravity they live in! Such talk is best left to the cows.

Your mighty declarations and incantations insight revulsion, yet an odd, awful amazement we cannot help but have given the sheer audacity of your position! Surely, we might think, one who acts so brutishly with no good cause or justification has just, in the very act, justified oneself as worthy of the self-bequeathed position! The position on the tower.

Aye, stay there, we say! Look down with scorn and contempt; contenting yourself with the drivel of your mind and the dribbles from your nose. All the easier, I say, for us to topple your fat, floppy rolls to the ground with an earth-shattering thud. And you, defying the very laws of nature, or perhaps simply filled with only your own inflated sense of self-worth, will bound into the sky - a rocket! We now find our awe had been placed rightly, for only you, you gluttonous, gaudy Gregorian, could so beautifully and so perfectly burn into dust and gas as you smashed ass-first into the atmosphere.

So here's to you - salty scum of the earth. For your inevitable destruction has made life just that much more worth living.

Doing Cool With Us -- And You Will Too!

"And then god or whatever came down in the form of the angel Gabriel and a smallish sized goat wearing a toupee. And both of them were certainly Our Savior, Undercover Be His or Her Name-O." - Pope Francis

"Back in my day we didn't have dildos poppin out our eyes and shit crawling off the walls, nooo-no sirree, we played our poker and we drank our tea, gently. But thems were strange days. I suppose it's different when you're raised by assorted rodents." - Ben Roethlisberger

"Crunchy...but yet also slimy. What's...it..is that a...hint of sudge I detect?" - Emeril Lagasse

"All I can say is that Halloween is the Lord's day, and I'm really quite fed up with all you naysayers." - Laura Bush

"Mondays are the worst. What else in life can give you the intensity of the squirts with the tenderly paced cringing of a well-constipated turd?" - my mother, dad

"I love you, dad. There's no dad that dads like you dad."
- mom

"Well zippity crabbam shoohop!" - Denzel Washington

"Louis the...what was it? The ninth? Tenth? Heh?! Whaddayew sayin' over there? Get over here and say me what the freaking crap you wanna say. I'm tired and my ears smell like piss." - Gabriel Garcia Marquez on homosexual science fiction

"I've got LSD up to my eyeballs, if you catch my drift." - Copernicus 

"All we ah is scrotes in the wind. Heh." - Euripides  

Salami Adventure

"Oh what a day and what a night ahead for all of us crazy folks at the school in the territory previously the most north and the most west but now it’s just the most worth and most nest and perhaps even the best this evening and tomorrow morning could be an adventure or two won’t you join me on such a quest as bold as this while we journey far and wide and deep into the crevasses of the human soul and plunge our swords and sabers into the dark void of mystery and scavenge the remains of what could be our future. To die is but another great adventure and it could be the greatest adventure of them all. Join me on my quest for truth, for knowledge, for power, for love, and most of all; the holy salami. Kept away hidden in the lost lake of the lake within the lake of the sleeping mind and drifting away every now and then in your subconscious, there lies a cavern in which lies a temple in which lies the secret to the holy salami. Only from there can one truly find where such a delicacy of cured meats exists in the waking world and from a map that must be carved into your back we will voyage to every corner of this earth and the rounded edges too until we reach the old man with the wooden eye and he tells us, “search no farther my children, for I am the end of the road.” And then we must kill the old man and eat his eye. And then the answer will become clear as to what to do next and we will go and leave this realm for 50 years until the time is right and when we return everything won’t be the same; the world will have opened up a trench so vast and so deep that it exposes the ancient tomb of Luigi Divalesconi, the maker of the holy salami and many other magic meats. We will swim down deep and far and wide and narrow and thin and fat until we scramble in through the ceiling of Luigi’s deli shop at the bottom of the sea and he will be there waiting for you on his throne of goats. His peperoni eyes stare into your heart, his sausage fingers grip at his sword of pastrami and he begins to attack. With one fell swipe of your sword you cut him down and his delicious desiccated corpse flops pathetically into neat slices. With his dying breath he points to the antechamber of his throne room; therein lies the holy salami. You arrive at the sealed chest and break off the rusty lock. There it is. The treasure of the century. The holy salami. In the flesh. It’s glorious. It reeks. You devour it whole and absorb its mythical powers. You can feel the power coursing through your veins. Your fingertips tingle, you’ve never felt stronger, you feel like you could fight a skeleton army, you feel like you could fight mike Tyson, you feel like you could fight a skeleton army of mike Tysons. Your hair becomes long and billowing, your muscles become incredibly well toned and magic incantations flutter on your lips. Suddenly leaks spring in the ceiling and water begins to rush into the quaint undersea sandwich shop. The water is rising fast, you take a deep breath and fly as fast as you can out the way you came in. But the water is too much. The current is too strong. You are swept away and smashed into the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Your body tries to repair itself with its magical salami powers but only manages to protect you from further damage and keep your body in a comatose state while you lie in wait of rescue from your greed. Some say you are still there, undamaged by time or the fierce waters, but still preserved perfectly, just like a piece of meat."

-- A GHOST

Plato used to say that shit all the time

It's a hurdle every word you can hardly go from thought to thought garbuldigook in my ass! you garbuldigook! It is your ass! glad it's sorted out?
Bag em and tag em sell em to the store I say! I dunno, I liked it...
Butter in the oven, better on the stove
Orange trees groovin at the old tree grove
Master Disaster here I am
Beatin up the eggs, fryin up the ham
Pepper in some plastic
Don't be so salty, ecclesiastic

Have you prepared for the space Nazi invasion? How's that for a howdy-due (respect - ya know)!? More like howdy-piece'a-bag'a-shit! Yeah! yeah.. and also, additionally - yeah.

Now imagine, you're in a magical forest with pubic hair trees, with ice cream-delivering monkeys, and even the caterpillars hug you! Now imagine that magical forest is inside your rectum. Yes folks, that's right! We're offering you now, LIVE ON NATIONAL TELEVISION the chance to have your anus feng shui'd by teh ultimar best awesomest booty designer in all of town! Gary's mom is totally free this Thursday at the rec center!@askjeeves.anal_assplay (i dunno -- how do those things go?) Anyway, try-outs are being held at                          so make sure to make your reservations for the all you can           with the              and earn points by                 to even still have                more than you can shake a stick at!

It was the best of times, because it was better than all other times.

                                                                                                               -- Plato

Interpretive Dance?

Yeah, it should be. I mean, without us, figure and I? Shit out, yeah I don't know...

How are us? How is you?! You gotta have expectations... but you can! You can worry about bk! Can expect them, one way or the other! And this is the eternal flame of expecting.

Child! Nude, you receive your own comeuppance, wenn wir a la playa mit Eddie "Gill" gehen. Social you! Receive I? Never heard way ass - bum bum! Right - in the air, the old couch fort sat and veiled a meaty sex from someone around. Cracked video - that is in a crack level - isn't Mike's video about conspiracy theories. In shared living, in that wayward world of the mainland, he's been framed!

Rosa parks with Stage, and then there was not just Mike - some random thing that became 1000. The net scenarios were carefully planned to get in the media as, like, this thing that would relate to people in the seas. In the end, this be like that situation at noon when There, Their, and They are just an hour.

Ok, so is it that in playing that, people didn't black people didn't have to sit at the back of the bus or just like the road the park thing wasn't up wigan pier really like virginia i don't know them but me at least in some people make but it's like it's just a girl symbolic action than that represents the reality i mean like you like and like it like that then i'll begin mediastinum easy rider wanted got it s a standard pension f****** daily news feed in a new thing what the f*** vince croatia onlive blast good rest while you eat and it's crazy these days with kids southern england when we would go on leg lol day trips want to stratford upon me are we went to bath celeron battersby call and it went to london southend airport like when we will need going to get his wall lunch packets i like my friend can i eat on the wild animal man i would be more about asking it's raining me there like trader combine thing that wednesday night i can't even be aware of myself today oh yeah it's like to meet people whenever you need it the stimulus response from mike he mean it has been doing something for yourself like feeling this little success and around moving like people who are combine all the drugs in chennai flip your legs really feel good f****** nuts in your mind is like stretched everywhere in knowing he was going on slippery she yeah i think sometimes it doesn't open to the idea that like the better or whole is greater than parts thank you connor accomplish more working as a team you know than working by yourself so other drugs eric him know i'm just saying i give you a pirate to the next level down with the individual if the individual all works with 18 1 task than rather than a sensory maurer fishing all the energy to 1 test that's where the body painting how many calories does cycling burn the secret life of plants nobles don't hear about the guy f****** baxter in the sixty's is sung kang i like pie graph train again trailer training caps new era agency fbi and then he started doing all these crazy experimental reactor crazily in terms of their neurotransmission all these strange ray csqa things its human skin ever experience i like you realise you know it's like she's all these things going bexley feeling pain in the ear the booking line thank you hope tattoo it's the best level of resistance in your life is s*** out of microorganisms and then he thinks about burning leaves he said we have to go get a match in a bigger screen play it was raining the guardian my own booze delete ray thinking about mike watering the plants in a better how does that make sense dg7do plants like we're on the 4th dimension of something i can see all possible outcomes from when given point so when that becomes like more than likely they eat animals because they know they have to be there by that way that's great news the most human being a reaction trying out to make me to jump into britain his uh huh well being back at the point it don't believe in a cup of hot coffee perennially it is him there is no reaction to speak anon mean you will burn the actual lived with the electrodes right xd instead he got the picture framing as mine before you can move ray match the wizard romantic changing the tracing parents in the form of a prolonged up with sweep dexter has not moved in a tour of the planet or the recording machine the planet of the reading of mind weather nectar of the room returns imagines he found another 7 search registered on church evidently cars made the termination korea threats like the way he said about bringing the least this time there was a lower peter reaction graph later as he went to the motions of pretending does no reaction what's the point of pure to be able to differentiate between real and pretend didn't it and beauty does so much my ship them again with himself in with the lie detector girl like miles away let miles away in mike things get better better place in you that's so creepy nss lake darran f****** thing that civilization is ready to talk about like every single player like a different human with different i like a builder to meet people like some people know i'll always rue de la falaise you know how do they blake know what he's thinking and so far away is it did they have a special attachment of people around them like and we're not the death of certain cells in the same room to play n8 realised it was going crazy random organ is more intelligent than a plan and mike slowly then become used to it because i realised first row random in debt you get 6 people in his way accord for 16 people look like when you're not around anyone you can't tell anyone about this going to the room place stamp on it. Up and down on the ground so everyone is in the rainforest does a talking in a 1.6 virgin hilger play it kill the plan next to it and down then later and so the required the other place and have everything a present individually come up in a persian. note send james and lovethat's really freaky just keep coming at ya 50 back in you what is it yeah i think it should be going on the world wide web figure out wrekonize the new level you can have my wife plants you know and whenever someone comes over with the idea of rubbing your house they could give us a break before i leave date did that in the past wow that's so weird plants are there was the future bingo bingo bingo so weird planes are there was the future bingo bingo. right now host. the most young from reglogmein duo durham disturbed early tooth and answers maybe in everything is ridiculous glass yeah i was thinking about the other daysex sauna needle and thread red light the trudy day yeah i know it seems like maybe you filing the kiln bedford that ensure that he would never work please dream. web thing did you have you build a routine yeah yeah yeahs zero um hellooh my god that's amazing liverpoolis that i don't know either way. Do you have a podcast where literally mike you're having an organic interaction with eric human being like that with this is right now hello world yeah that's true note with the whole thing was like we couldn't we can like gill comfortable with the bank but now we do something that like stand up comics have to do with working in dubai hopefully everybody but like another find out about it yeah this is going to be like 20 minutes personal trainer felt for yeah they seem land o lakes mcat uno menu you don't fire until 8 minutes 19 you set up if im being gone bingo instead of bingo bingo bingo earliest train to do in the ladies Devon Kershaw and his brain injury list of the fact a collared shirt instruments drum depot andover college it's a mystery i love words do most people back home still think that your smile no i was mean like in the sense that coming to do the people here it's a mess like they say much land was maurer nadie en like they are things to do the smartest f****** people over because o i going to do so they're already pretentious about it electronic things to tell the smartest person around the lake back home none of my friends over there that are medically thing that i was smartest rectella weird but like nothing out there was a good thing um son of maurer like going to school because a 1030 doing i'm a boy or girl bearsden my love. I was smarter than them realise that and like ages now the pain in leg william is there but yeah that level way like it's not about this f****** food they were going to do near anus. Seen a person ever after phil neville eyes watering it doesn't matter i'm not ever doing that again in a minute date and out of cars i learnyeah that's why they think i love you but i'm done with vince cage cycling shoes are in a strong megan from oxford i want the real f****** building or taylor 30 but i've never been to oversee i've been to bios i've never had it up the stairs but anyway is terrible 00 dance trainers and shoes girls walking somewhere and like i just answered hello i figured as can be late already so as i buy them yeah but she's just like oh you're not wearing shoes you should put don't like they have my foot flats but are you going to class thank it's not socially acceptable effect f*** you lily says that trudy mail it seriously like kind of implying that or i'm not in that room weird and when you wear shoes pleasejesusverbal premier

No, I'm saying I don't know the Title DERRRR

Speak words. What an idea! A thought really. Heh. You speak some. Try it. Ya dumb sakka shit.Yeah, eat 'em right up. Ya filthy filthmongers! With your grimy gritty faces and ugly rugged toes. Yes, you. And you too! For shame that you thought you weren't included! Of course you are invited. I did invite you, did I not?

Ahc! Mmm. And so it was that a new paragraph was formed on this day. T'was a good paragraph, a kindly paragraph. Though it was prone to forgetfulness... and then... uh... the ugliness came upon it! T'was stricken with DeVitism. The grossest of all grossness! How absurd it was! The boils! And the stench! Mein God! But the worst part... the absolute most disgusting of the dirty disease... the coup d'gross, if you will... But I shant tell thy peons! T'would melt your little, perfunctory minds! You rabble. Ye Olde Stricken! Strictly speaking, you're rubbish.

Merp!

But on to the point of the discussion at hand! We here at family-owned, family-ordered, Primo Kebab: Family Outlet make it our mission to deliver our juiciest, most fantastically succulent learnin's directly to your eyeholes! But nay! The task at hand hath not been completed tharr! Still, there is more that we ask of you and your albeit limited cognitive faculties. The knowledge of these, Our Olde Ways, must be recited aloud for the spells which they hold to effect their effects.

We're inventing a new language using only the letter q. Not only is it quaint, it's qqqqqqqqqqqq! Qq QqQQqqqQ? QQqQQQqq! qqQQQqqQQQqq! Know what I'm saying? Just like -- soda cans! They're fuckin' dumb! 5 min my booty boo! And 5 men? I don't think I could handle that. I mean, Mike in himself is like... 7 men, so take that into account... ya got a hefty sausage sandwich. A hefty sort of thing... on a stick. Whatever man. It's humor. You can fuck off with your high brow comedy or whatever... I don't know. Well when ya look at it like that... You're just a lonely guy behind a screen writing words for other people to say, ya know man? Think about that, man.

As is what was,
We are certainly that

What Wizzent Woodent, How Dare Yeh?

Skoo wop doo we dawn bombom. 
Yeeep boo wow skee plee boo now. 

How does one become more skattish? The process isn't as easy as 1,2,3 or heart surgery! No, it's a series of trials of strength, endurance, and butthole dexterity. 
But I'm sure you all know where I'm going with that, and I'm also sure that I'm scrambling for time, dear lordie let me sway down eazay breezay. The rules are so simple Mike's ma could understand them:
1. Be aggressive!
2. Don't put cheese all over your face and pretend you're the moon. We all know you aren't. That got old like 12 years ago. Ya busta!
3. Keep your pants firmly on the ground. They'll only hold ya back!
4. Like... Do somethin' reaaaaal dope... Or whatever
Five ways to seduce your lion, folks, there ya have em. Get nice and toasty up there with em, mmm nice and goodlike. Whenever that lion gets the samelike just hug em tight and squeeze fer life. Oh nah belly boy you're gone git ready fer this nah. Cos cose he gone got youd all up n dried innem them lion fangs. After that all gets settled, you can finally begin the masterful art of slattery, that is, how to make slats (skats). 
Not anybody hardly never attempts the feats no mo'. You know the ones. Kinda like dah giraffes and halfway cooler than that ole corner at the pajama party. Partly listless planters paint poorly portioned portraits of princely prawns and pickles. And if that ain't enough! Oh! Bangskeeterbang! 
I guess that calls up God. 

Damn near skeeted em,
a log

Salty

From whence does the almighty feeling of ekstasis emerge? From the heart some might say! Well I say shaddup feget about it! That's a big ol' bloody blood pump, ya hootenannies! The brain then, them ugly nerds will tell ya. But who trusts the nerds these days! Go read a book on your calculator I tell 'em! Predictably, I will stop to mention that while ekstasis certainly resides in the butthole, we shall assume it not to be the source. So who's the ass, u or me?

In addition! I say that's quite enough of those types of things which I do not care to get into in this frame-state! And, keeping with tradition, I shall now stop to recite for you the next word of the day! It's a good one this time peons, as it always is, so don't squander it!

Thumbittr! -- A dunce, dweeb, lackwit, curmudgeon, ya know, whatever

And yes, that must be spelled with an exclamation point at all times. AT. ALL. TIMES.

Every now and again, we appreciate some input from you, the fan. If you have any comments, questions, concerns, inquiries, prophetic dreams, disconcerting swelling in strange places, high blood pressure, or grapes, please think really hard about them before you go to bed every night and maybe we'll think about considering to help you with them. But we're pretty busy, you know, running the world and all this crazy shit. So we might not get to it. Don't feel bad though; we don't hate you! We're just indifferent to your existence!

That's not mine officer I swears!
-- The Ghost of L. Ron Hubbard's pet Goat

Deh Maust Empertentest Kwodes fram Hizturee (perd wan uv aiet-mylye'n)

"I guess you could call my asshole a way-station of sorts. People don't stick around very long, but all sorts come through.Oh! The stories I could tell you!" -- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Hardly anyone ever comes to rustle my jimmies anymore. I dunno, things are different these days, man." -- Leif Ericson

"I once ate at a Chinese restaurant. It wasn't terrible." -- Amelia Earhart

"This is not a poem
Seriously, I mean it
Don't pretend it is." -- Lana Del Rey

"No thanks, I'm not into pottery. I had a traumatic experience as a child, and I never want to talk about it ever. [sobbing]" --Dave from down the street

"If you ever quote me on this I swear to Jesus Almighty I'll wear your face as a loin cloth." -- Frank Sinatra

"One time, I tried to see how many jelly beans I could snort. I got to like 21 before the blood got too thick and I had to stop." -- Margret Thatcher

"Being born with one arm is, like, just one step closer to becoming a fish... right?" -- Woody Guthrie

"Sure, maybe it doesn't matter now, but one day, probably some day soon, you'll look in the mirror and realize what you've become: a sad, washed up hack scraping by between hits of morphine, horse tranquilizers, and metabolic steroids. We're all sick of your shit, Goofy." -- Mickey Mouse

"When I was your age, I was stabbing out commie eyes with a butter knife." -- Emily Dickinson

"Never forget the golden rule: keep 'em laughin'." -- Joseph Stalin

"Oh come on! You're shitting me, right? Five fucking dollars for a goddamn sandwich? Literally - hey, asshole! Are you listening? Literally,I would rather eat my own shit than pay you such a ridiculous price." -- Shirley Temple

heh...

The other guy: howd our butts taste?

Me: sorry for feedin y'all our buttholes

Son: i washed mine

Me: hope ya liked the flavor

Son: prolly still tasted like butthole doe

Me: spicy

Me: yet tangy

Son: hint of creme fraiche

the other other guy: lol

The other guy: wuts funny the other other guy

the other other guy: you guys know each other?

The other guy: wanna share

The other guy: u know me?

The other guy: ?!!! HUh?!

Son: whut neva

The other guy: NO WAI

Me: i know jesus

The other guy: FOR NEVAS

Son: who told YOU

The other guy: I WOUD NEVAS

the other other guy: lol

Son: i wanna know!

Me: he knows me

Me: too

The other guy: shaddup u mangy mutt.

Son: you mutty mng

Me: I FOUGHT IN WATERLOO

The other guy: the other other guy join our club

Son: *mang excuse my french

Me: COCKMUNCHERS

The other guy: we r satanists who bang each other

the other other guy: lol

The other guy: in the face

Son: also make hummus

Me: on da regular

The other guy: LOL!

Son: homemade

Son: tasty

Son: high in protein

The other guy: from our butts!

Me: hmmm... us?

Son: makes your butthiole tangy

Me: ^^ full circle

Asshole in your Butthole

asssss

Dat Life Grind

I'd have to say that today, in a way, I'm layn'm slayn'm; gettin' on dat life grind -- you know the kind. I went to the shop this morning don't remember what I bought, but let me tell you I sure it be hot on all that.. There's nothing to it if you catch what I mean when I say it, knaw it and thaw it under the sea. Dat's dat grind I'm feelin' -- ya feel dat?

It's been a while since we've graced your pleasant ears and eyes with our almighty ambivalent, presence, and might I say that in our absence, we've been quite prolific. The amount of things we didn't do, words we didn't say, galoshes we didn't galosh... It's quite literally unthinkable. Try to think of it and you'll see what I'm saying. It'll come to you. In a vision of the omniscient kettle of the sun's radiant image. I'd be lying if I said I were lying bout that one, folks!

In sum kinda summary -- Don't say a word. They don't know anything that we do

Love,
ya Ma!
JK it's pete.

Asshole in your Butt Hole

*For Stinky*

So simple , 
No
So...
Supple
Aye?
Ehhh, mah mama mah mama she say. 
Never dun gonna go
Down that way no mo
Not today, or yester. 
Let it fester in ya wound
Til my boy Lester coming thru
Gonna pop out den kneecaps 
For through the trees I do plead hats
Do rain down upon us 
Pterodactyls are in me
I find myself cringing
The ptero the ptero the ptero 
The pterodactyls are in me
Wayside court side
At the ol Kentucky classic
I found the sideways
Sandwich
From whence the world cometh
And mine eyes
Did temble
At the smelly abundance 
Of its presence
O! How I amped onto its holy smell. 
I reeked for days, sucka! 
God, I coulda killed a god today. 

With the dump I took in the fump of my crumpet today is a trumpet on which I do lump it thru time the old shrimp bit of which I am biskit. 

My mind is bisquik
The kind that u cook wit
Billboard on the street
Told me its secret
And that I took
To the bank, I did

Agree! A great! A Greek! 
Or so you thought before...
Before...
The incident
That's why we talking bout Islam folks. Preach
I shall folk it all if we weren't incident creatures oh so meager. 
Meter. Parking. Do the math u jackabond of long don whackathon. 

Let us rejoin the hot doogens, 
For they will non-shtugen the booden foe's mead, 
Aye, that of ol' Hammer Fist, Gremlin-Lung Feaster. 
Ah! Yes! 
And all around the fire too!
Who did not think I would be invited?
I shudder! 
So shall you all

Ear-beard bakes a naked cake
The sons of Petros
Make the metro on time 
Quarter-marking the market
West-side Trojans fight
Southeast pita. 
Vengeance tastes just as fine as hummus
Hmmm... Us?

Raiseeee it --> The Banner, oh baby! <--- an arrow!

Caked in the sunburnt stench of unfiltered Camels, I waddle farting into a small sterile building humbly titled 'Ethiopian Restaurant'. Here I stake my claim as an authority of the Working Man. Day in, day out: I wait for customers. Don't misread - I literally sit on a flatulence-coated swiveling chair, sniveling as I wait for someone to enter this globforsaken place. He hathent forsook it vengefully as cosmically far as I am concerned, but for the abhorrently apparent absence of Good Taste amongst these scum-ridden suburbanites, may they all rot in a vat of their own Excrement. Meanwhile, I flick the occasional boogie, pick the odd bum, and bequeath myself to an incessant barrage of gossip between Boss-Lady (racist) and Genuinely Good-working Guatemalan Guy (practically a pus-pocket of pity. Eternally moments away from violently exploding on my facial features). I heroically stand in as working medium for the respectively petty gibberish each slings, yet which not a one of us can respectively understand. I have found that a stern "Wow - Gee! That sucks" concludes matters rather abruptly after the fourth or fifth go. Oh sure, I manage the time to spoon feed utter nonsense to my tables in the hiatuses around these clandestine "fuck that person!" sessions, but trust me (and why would you not? I am a stolid beacon of veracity): my unofficial job here is illiterate diplomat. I effectively negotiate terms by means of guttural vocal noises and primitive, potentially crude hand gestures (coincidentally, how I also conduct business promotions to customers - we are a refined and inviting hearth to all who uphold the Banner of Un-Cunts).

Dear Allah. GGGG (check the reference, twerp) just informed me of yet another past job of his that far exceeded this one in wage, grandeur of task, freedom: sleeping in an 18-wheeler, waking only to make sure no outlaws (the vicious pieces of dogshit) stole 500 precious pounds of sawdust bread while the driver lurked through brothels on a quest for methamphetamines and/or purpose (however, given such a purpose, one ought still assume the meth to be obtained). Between his enthusiastically tootheless grin and my drug-worn hippie derp, I like to think of it as a conversation. Ojala que el no leya esto.

Returning to the Banner! It is crucial that Boss-Lady contracts a bouncer (read: one with an affinity for bouncing) for the sole purpose of publicizing our corporation's firm stance regarding customers of cuntish variety. They are to be refused service at all times and verbally abused if appropriate. We have a Banner to care for, after all. Lest one slobbers a contagiously moronic remark our way, we employ the ol' Scream 'n' Cream strategem. It appears that blank space (although this, "blog," as it were, is theoretically infinite in space, this doctrine was inscribed on a dear friend's upper thigh so do bear with) as well as my patience for these misanthropic musings amidst such myopic monotonies of existence are running thin. Better choke down the last crumb of angst before I ladle any of it on one of these fucking fiends' plates.

Until equivalent rage/disgust,
Your Righteous Bannerman of Veracity & Un-Cunts

Just Words are just words

Tis a pleasure to make your aquaintance and welcome to the continuing story of feeble-mindedness and scientific inquiry! And what a story it is! We left our hero at home, so instead we'll use this pencil - look at it! - So this pencil is, uh, makin an omlet. For the king of science. And he's struggling, what with his not having arms and all, (plus he aint the sharpest one in the box! [that's Ted.]) but he suddenly realizes he was a cactus hallucinating he was a pencil the whole time! Now here's where it gets really confusing.

The, pencil that it be, was, as it were, no longer inside the cactus - how could it? For the jam jar certainly wasn't a pine tree! Four times, I checked if it could be, but alack! Indeed, who could say, in such a decisive manner, that the cactus, instead, was apart (or, perhaps, a part) of the pencil? Certainly not I! Pursuasive as it may be to think such a thing given the facts, the facts, as I have called them -as I have seen them - have been neither by "not me". You, being not me, are clearly included as "not me," and heterofore ought to have used a tad bit more discretion in your appearantly blind acceptance of the unknown! For shame!

THE END... --~..~

Wow, wasn't that a powerful tale? It's based on a true story, you know. You know you scamp! Don't gimme that look! I don't even want it. Seriously though, you keep it.

When enough's not enough,
I'll be there

Anti-Semantic Banter within Barrington

You earned it, jackanape!
It's about time we fessed up here at Primo Kebab: Pretty Tommy Noble. We've strung you, our devout readerships, along a severely incoherent sequence of excerpts that seem to bear little to no meaning or worth. However, that is the meaning, so ya done. It's all coming back now, there's nothing you can do to stop it! Nyahaaaah! Fear me, or fare ye not too well in the futuroo, eh hneh hyoo?

Now that we can all agree on the fact that there is, indeed, as the studies hath showethen, a walrus involved in a hippopotamus scheme (the whereabouts of which are currently still yet unknown to mankind as of today yesterday) against the fabric of what always and forever will be Steve forces (read: Steve's forces - an elite group of wildebeest trained in social activism), there's a lot on our plate! The collective plate of unifying consciousness, Kay? Em? EN?

En inglEs, por favor.

Steve,
Forces ever!

Whose shoes are these?!

They're certainly not mine; at least i dont think so. Shoes? Nooo way, boss. Not me, no way, no how, not neva. But alack! "Not mine" isn't a specific enough definition! So the answer, my friends, remain ambiguous. Fuckin' ambiguity! The bane of our need to know all the shit about everything! But I say why know when you can not! Heavy stuff, I know, but bear with me. Rawr! Fuckin salmon and honey! Yeah! Anyway, I mean to say what I already said. So if you don't get it, that's the point! Ya gaddarmnied carmurblik!

Look at this! What is this?! It's the plight of a generation! People are being pulled apart by horses in the streets! Don't believe me? Well fuck you! I say what goes on! So anyway, pulled apart by horses! The most pressing moral issue in the world today! Some say it's cruel and unusual punishment; some don't. Either way, both sides have a compelling argument. So the problem continues! To plague over our entire society. In the literal sense. Bodaba bwahdabwahbwaow!

In the interest of time,
I Left the Change on the Counter.
Yours,
Welcome