Hookers or Cake

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

--------------------------------

    • Illustration
    • My Videos
    • The best of Hookers or Cake
    • ------------------------------------- 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’.

      -----------------------------------

      Amazon.com Widgets

      -------------------------------------- more fun categories

      --------------------------------------

      • Inspiration
      • art
      • ----------------------------------------- some tumblr friends

        -----------------------------------------

        • Rrrick
        • Fuzzy Dave
        • Wonder Tonic
        • ----------------------------------------- some writing

          -----------------------------------------

          • Josh Luft
          • I'm a Veronica
        • Mr. King was here
          • Aloha Friday
          ----------------------------------------
          tell me lies! Submit stuff
          • August 1, 2012 4:35 am
             Again I spent the winter alone going to fancy restaurants and ordering the strangest things I would find myself getting drunk with the ghost of the rabbit king singing songs from the old country while fingering an old dead duck Teaching clams to swear and sing like that old Italian opera God used to cry at

            Again I spent the winter alone

            going to fancy restaurants

            and ordering the strangest things

            I would find myself getting drunk

            with the ghost of the rabbit king

            singing songs from the old country

            while fingering

            an old dead duck

            Teaching clams to swear and sing

            like that old Italian opera God used to cry at


            1. reblogged this from
            2. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            3. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            4. reblogged this from
            5. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            6. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            7. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            8. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            9. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            10. hookersorcake posted this