I took off my wrist radio for a private service.
When you’re doling out your accolades, don’t short circuit yourself.
Don’t disabuse yourself of your morning constitutional and its bill of rights. The mighty tie up the courts in their don knots, spreading largess among the lawyers. The meek scurry at a shadow in the sky.
At which we all double-crossed ourselves, and checked our messages.
They can tell a lot about you by your urinings beyond your kidneys. Like when the next to the last supper was set at the periodic table. Like when you were pissing silver, and Saint Peter had his three cocks in his hand.
The birds sing in the moonlight,
the router bubbles on all cylinders.
I pour another shot of rot gut
and climb into the bosun’s chair.
The girls in the band all had their meatpacker’s badge.
Our father that art in heaven, and our mother that art in the earth, help me speak plainly now, and remain true to the lofty aim of our people. Which is, that the devil screw the hindmost, in the strict sense of the subject. Not to give airs, but also not to pretend that when Jack and Jill went up that hill, there was no more to it than a pail of water, we beseech thee (father and mother), as the direct descendants of Adam and Eve, Romeo and Juliette, and the old woman who lived in a shoe — guide us on our course.
Help us avoid mention of the smut-covered president, or of the common man, infested with bugs. The woman on the street? Keep her out of your dirty cold war. With your one good eye and half-bushel of fingers, raise the glass and pass the ammunition. We will now speak of the thermodynamics of the colored people.
Once upon a time, all the peoples was colored. That’s the way it was the old county. Then the Africans started to spread out, and in some cases, lighten up. And the people that wasn’t colored, tended to live in Iceland. After they’d been to the moon, they all got stuck in the sand.
They placed their trust in a great warrior, who had been through the bankruptcy courts, and had incited insurrections with a million dead; and she or see would clear the deck and all the frills upon it.
As Mordecai Cubitt Cooke famously said in An Introduction to the Study of Microscopic Fungi, it must be a courageous person who would attempt to stew a Stinkhorn in all its glory.
Sometimes a man’s got to go to the moon. Sometimes he’s just got to go. But how do you go in a spacesuit? Built-in plumbing. Like our forefathers used to enjoy.
Just when did universal sanitation come into existence? Back in the stone age? In the renaissance? During the industrial revolution? At the dawn of the information age? Yes, now we have all the information at our fingertips. Hence, universal sanitation.
They say that our foremothers knew this long ago, but because the moon was in the sixth house, and the mouse took the cheese, the farmer stands alone.
There doesn’t seem to be any shortage of chaga growing on the birch trees in the Robson Valley, British Columbia.
Early July 2014.
