Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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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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          • November 18, 2011 11:06 am
            Is God just using us as an escape from reality?Howard had a problemHe’d taken a sabbatical to finally complete his novel. The two months off work hadn’t set them back too much, though it did mean that their annual vacation would be scaled down to a three day weekend visit with the relatives. Tahiti would have to wait another year or two. That Howard had written and even finished a second draft of a 700 page novel in as little as two months was amazing. His wife would be pleased, but once everyone realized that his first novel was solely based on the spiritual ramifications of a 1970’s Miller Lite commercial… the old fear and panic began to set in. “Maybe I’ll just sit here in a catatonic stupor,” Howard thought, “until I actually become a vegetable. I’ll just sit here and die.” Thirty minutes later he was back, eating Cheetos, smoking dope and laughing at the TV. “This is like ten times better than fucking Tahiti,” he giggled.

            Is God just using us as an escape from reality?

            Howard had a problem

            He’d taken a sabbatical to finally complete his novel. The two months off work hadn’t set them back too much, though it did mean that their annual vacation would be scaled down to a three day weekend visit with the relatives. Tahiti would have to wait another year or two.
            That Howard had written and even finished a second draft of a 700 page novel in as little as two months was amazing. His wife would be pleased, but once everyone realized that his first novel was solely based on the spiritual ramifications of a 1970’s Miller Lite commercial… the old fear and panic began to set in.
            “Maybe I’ll just sit here in a catatonic stupor,” Howard thought, “until I actually become a vegetable. I’ll just sit here and die.” Thirty minutes later he was back, eating Cheetos, smoking dope and laughing at the TV. “This is like ten times better than fucking Tahiti,” he giggled.

            1. said: I’d read that novel, just sayin’.
            2. said: I giggles
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