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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          tell me lies! Submit stuff
          • October 23, 2010 11:36 am
            and the lawyers wrote their magical poetrytranslating the law whichever way the money fellthe scientist wrote their manifestos to godthey told him/her to fuck off“We don’t need you, when we can create our own diet soda,” they said.“And we don’t need your Deus ex machina,(I don’t even know what Deus ex machina means!)but whatever it is, we don’t need it and we sure as hell don’t understand itand you can shove it put it in all the bright pretty things & momentsand sell it down at the outlet mall. but somewhere there was a pure manan innocent… he believed in Jesus with the heart of a childsomething about lovethrough all this pain and madnessand in his wallet he kept a picture of Jesusit was old and crumblingJesus was holding his chest openexposing his beating hearthis beating heartwhich the world tore apartlike rabid dogsmaybe old Christ was showing us somethinga little bit deeper about the truth of reality

            and the lawyers wrote their magical poetry
            translating the law whichever way the money fell
            the scientist wrote their manifestos to god
            they told him/her to fuck off
            “We don’t need you, when we can create our own diet soda,” they said.
            “And we don’t need your Deus ex machina,
            (I don’t even know what Deus ex machina means!)
            but whatever it is, we don’t need it
            and we sure as hell don’t understand it
            and you can shove it
            put it in all the bright pretty things & moments
            and sell it down at the outlet mall.

            but somewhere there was a pure man
            an innocent… he believed in Jesus with the heart of a child
            something about love
            through all this pain and madness

            and in his wallet he kept a picture of Jesus
            it was old and crumbling
            Jesus was holding his chest open
            exposing his beating heart

            his beating heart
            which the world tore apart
            like rabid dogs

            maybe old Christ was showing us something
            a little bit deeper about the truth of reality