Hookers or Cake

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


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    • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ 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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          • October 19, 2009 5:59 am

            You step past the red velvet curtain into a private room. There is a slow jazz song playing with a woman singing and a chilled bottle of champagne waiting with 2 glasses. You fill both glasses, take off your jacket and sit down in a large easy chair. The stripper enters the room.

            “Whats your name?” you ask handing her a glass.

            “You know my name Mr. Jefferies,” she says.

            You clink the glasses together and she downs hers in one gulp. You do likewise. Clearing your throat you reply, “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else…. Miss…Miss…”

            “Its Judy” she purrs.

            She is now straddling you and whispers in your ear “Now we will be together forever Philip,” and everything slowly turns into static.

            THE END

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