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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          • March 3, 2012 11:01 pm
            One spring while shoveling out the ash room underneath the old black iron boiler, I kicked at a piece of something hard and saw a glint. It was a massive metal turd worth more than twelve million dollars. Come to find out the ‘coal’ we’d been using in the boiler all winter was actually fossilized dinosaur shit. I guess when the sky was closer and outer space was our lover the dinosaurs subsisted wholly on a diet of stars. Their poop would be flecked with gold and full of precious metal stardust. Sadly, we ran out of dinosaur poop because the dinosaurs all died once the mammals came along and fogged up the atmosphere. Until that point the atmosphere only consisted of a sleepy little girl, but as her head filled with hot manimal breathe,  the atmosphere grew and space receded. The earth became a maze of strip malls and the dinosaurs were no more. We made a shit ton of money (no pun intended) until we ran out. Started several world wars and hid God in an old china shop for almost five thousand years. Those were the days. It was a helluva summer.

            One spring while shoveling out the ash room underneath the old black iron boiler, I kicked at a piece of something hard and saw a glint. It was a massive metal turd worth more than twelve million dollars.

            Come to find out the ‘coal’ we’d been using in the boiler all winter was actually fossilized dinosaur shit. I guess when the sky was closer and outer space was our lover the dinosaurs subsisted wholly on a diet of stars. Their poop would be flecked with gold and full of precious metal stardust.

            Sadly, we ran out of dinosaur poop because the dinosaurs all died once the mammals came along and fogged up the atmosphere. Until that point the atmosphere only consisted of a sleepy little girl, but as her head filled with hot manimal breathe,  the atmosphere grew and space receded. The earth became a maze of strip malls and the dinosaurs were no more.

            We made a shit ton of money (no pun intended) until we ran out. Started several world wars and hid God in an old china shop for almost five thousand years. Those were the days. It was a helluva summer.