Hookers or Cake

Leonard Cohen and I had the same guru. We’d get drunk on scotch, laugh at the sun, and all the beautiful women. He knows how it is done. 

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I am a proud follower of Hookers Or Cake, a place filled with excellent writing that will stretch your imagination whether or not you want it stretched.  I was checking out the Hookers Or Cake book by Jade Bos on Amazon and noticed this over on the side.

He-he. Actually the man who makes everyone’s favorite toys and bits of wonder including that wonderful horse mask has been a great supporter of my books via kickstarter. Accoutrements/Archie Mcphee give em a follow! I don’t wanna brag, but I’m also big in the bovine scene.

bestrooftalkever:this is next level.

TGIF

In the early days, after the Garden of Eden, everyone understood that life was just an infinite pile of shit. Our suffering, a fertilizer for a new heaven. Every now and again a few flecks of gold would shine in. Further investigation by various saints revealed that life was actually solid gold obscured by the feces of ignorance, a species of misidentification. And for a time people were excited at the prospect of removing all the shit from the gold. A purification into heaven, a nirvana they were told. The problem was that sentient life was predicated on the shit. You remove it or burn it away and you kill it, as many a monstrous dictator has since learned. So alchemy was invented, the idea of turning shit into gold, but nothing seemed to work or so we’ve been told.

But fear not dear friends for there are great artists and their secrets involve identifying themselves as the actual gold and their medium is human excrement. Tis the creative process of all true art. Of course it all falls apart, but perhaps that’s the most sublime truth in all the happy failures of creation.

Leonardo was one such master, painting The Last Supper not in the usual fresco of plaster, but using actual pigments of human shit. He never told anyone, for the pope would’ve had a fit, buried him twelve feet under with the rest of the prophets.

The legend says that Christs face was fittingly born by Leonardo using the poop of a virgin. One whose name the whole world remembers still.

The Mona Lisa

with her shit eating grin

Where did the human end

and the God begin

Time reveals all secrets

but so does gin

Perhaps its time you stopped praying

and rejoice in all this glorious sin.

God needed to leave someone he could trust in charge while away on vacation. So he created a robot god, and being in a hurry he didn’t realize that if there are two omnipotent beings, singularity becomes an impermeable duality. None the wiser, God made his new robot god and split for Cabo San Lucas for the weekend.

On Saturday after getting drunk in awful tourist trap God found himself in an amateur wresting match on the other side of the tracks, pitted against a massive luchador called El Poopo.  El Poopo’s finishing move was called ‘Aplastar!’ it involved El Poopo whipping his opponent into the turnbuckle and then launching his four hundred pounds into them. No one usually got hurt because the turnbuckle was padded. Little did anyone realize that young Raoul Huerta, the 9 year old janitor at the gym, used the padding for a little bed and had forgot to put it back. So, God hit the turn buckle full force and got his bell rung when El Poopo launched into him.

After that no one was sure what happened. Some say God wandered off to Belize and started a peyote cult, others say he ended up in Tijuana, a drunkard in the street, sometimes turning himself into an eagle for a couple of pesos. I heard he went back to heaven but they wouldn’t let him in.

All this time, the new robot god and old true god, arguing over the price of a bottle of tequila.

Listen I’m not intersted in telling someone what they want to hear, something that will make them happy and content. Contrary to what everyone tries to sell you, life is not about happiness and comfort. Everyone you know is going to whither away or get torn to pieces. Get it through your stupid fucking head.

The happy ending is my mother and father. They were married for 53 years and I got to watch her weep over his body, “I loved you so much,” she sobbed. And then she wandered around unable to sleep without being drugged, for 2 years. “I can’t find him.” she’d say. “I don’t know where he is.”

Thats the ‘They lived happily ever after’ Thats about the best you can do. So get over your childish fucking need for comfort and safety. You might as well fucking live. Cuz you sure as fuck are going to die. 

nevver:Instasham

eternal joy of my heart

of our interconnected being

that we’re seeing

its nothin to fuck with

(Source: )

I’ve been told that I’m frightening the children during storytime. Isn’t that the whole point?