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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          • June 3, 2012 1:36 am
            Back when the world was smaller and hotter, people lived their whole lives in the same place. Even the nomads camped in the same two or three KOA campgrounds, just as their forefathers had. In those days there was just one God and her name was Edna. Edna lived in the sky and she didn’t take any shit from anyone, especially from agrarians. No sir, she made their lives a special living hell, what with the floods, locusts, and giant radioactive lizards. That kept em busy for years until she slipped up and let them discover psychedelics. Man, them drugs fucked up her whole hierarchy of being and ultimately made her obsolete. She was let go after being just a figurehead for a time. It was shortly after that the whole industrial society came into being, followed by modern society, then post modern, followed by the age of weirdos. My Uncle Frank was one of the first weirdos, he made large paintings about ice cream, death, and the simple joys of being a loser. Being a true weirdo he destroyed everything he made in the big weirdo destruction festivals they used to have. Of course one day some asshole thought, ” Hey! that, Dog Pooping Sad Music part VII, sure would look nice in the lobby of my bank… it all went downhill from there. Now every asshole has moved all around the earth just so they can all own large palatial estates with sculpture gardens and large oil paintings adorning the walls… well almost everyone except Edna, after she was laid-off from being God she got an apartment above the hardware store and took over her brother in-laws bowling alley.  It was one of them sweet old bowling alleys full of dark wood and multi-colored, warm toned laminite. It had a great jukebox and suds was $1 a cup.  I stopped going there once she sold it though… Yeah her old job eventually hired her back. I guess the humans had started killing each other arguing about Dr. Pepper vs Mr. Pibb. Sure Edna was now just a scapegoat and one of several hundred Gods, but damn if she couldn’t still smote a trailer park full of iniquity like she was picking up a 3-6 spare.

            Back when the world was smaller and hotter, people lived their whole lives in the same place. Even the nomads camped in the same two or three KOA campgrounds, just as their forefathers had.

            In those days there was just one God and her name was Edna. Edna lived in the sky and she didn’t take any shit from anyone, especially from agrarians. No sir, she made their lives a special living hell, what with the floods, locusts, and giant radioactive lizards. That kept em busy for years until she slipped up and let them discover psychedelics. Man, them drugs fucked up her whole hierarchy of being and ultimately made her obsolete.

            She was let go after being just a figurehead for a time. It was shortly after that the whole industrial society came into being, followed by modern society, then post modern, followed by the age of weirdos.

            My Uncle Frank was one of the first weirdos, he made large paintings about ice cream, death, and the simple joys of being a loser. Being a true weirdo he destroyed everything he made in the big weirdo destruction festivals they used to have. Of course one day some asshole thought, ” Hey! that, Dog Pooping Sad Music part VII, sure would look nice in the lobby of my bank… it all went downhill from there. Now every asshole has moved all around the earth just so they can all own large palatial estates with sculpture gardens and large oil paintings adorning the walls… well almost everyone except Edna, after she was laid-off from being God she got an apartment above the hardware store and took over her brother in-laws bowling alley. 

            It was one of them sweet old bowling alleys full of dark wood and multi-colored, warm toned laminite. It had a great jukebox and suds was $1 a cup.  I stopped going there once she sold it though… Yeah her old job eventually hired her back. I guess the humans had started killing each other arguing about Dr. Pepper vs Mr. Pibb. Sure Edna was now just a scapegoat and one of several hundred Gods, but damn if she couldn’t still smote a trailer park full of iniquity like she was picking up a 3-6 spare.

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