I look for something and it’s not there. I look again and again. Then the next time it magically appears. Is this some mind control being exerted by an unseen presence? Is it related to people with a sudden compulsion to massacre schools or public places? Has my reality skewed into one of the plots of, M. Night. Shyamalan? Am I crazy?
The answer of course is yes.
Among my other daily struggles, I seem to find an inordinate amount of parking lot cock rings. Four things at the grocery store now costs $20.00. I am accused of being a hoarder on a daily basis. I prefer collector. I come close to animal hoarding though.
I live in the Age of Information and I’m addicted to it. I like to think that I digest more information in one day than people would have in one year back a hundred years ago. It’s an evolutionary exercise. Also people in the future will no longer need emotions. Emotions are for the birds. I’ve already stopped using them. Productivity increases, information is assimilated and the wondrous dystopia begins.
My 97 year old neighbor died Sunday before last. I still think of him driving his late late model Cadillac down the street and waving to me from at least fifty yards away. Or showing me how to properly swing an axe. You let the weight of the axe do the work. And how to gracefully survive the discovery of a dead body found under your house.
Through a work connection I heard a tale about a recent sting operation to round up the hookers in a certain part of town. The odd bit of it was, is that one of the girls didn’t have any arms. She just had little flippers like a Thalidomide hooker. That’s some kinky hard up hookin’.
So anyway here is some porn from Mardi Gras that I'm tardi gras in gettin' to ya.
You can still smoke in the Koffee Kettle off Rucker Boulevard in Enterprise Alabama. I do enjoy a smoke with a meal. I highly recommend the Buttermilk pancakes, but then again I always do. Surprisingly the spoons were squeaky clean. The look of the show was a mixture of country and aged hippie. Accessories included canes, suspenders, vests with pins or embroidered patches and long stringy gray ponytails complementing the statement. Overall I think it was a successful collection.
Playing on the tabletop jukebox was, He's the Greatest Dancer. The sisters Sledge, and I wonder what exactly are they saying? I never did really understand it even back when the song was new at the roller rink. "I wonder why---eeenk---He's the greatest dancer---I wonder why---that I've ever seen..." But thats not what they are singing are they?
That's what they are saying. Oh-what-wow. Oh-what-wow Oh-what-wow. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Even more stupid than, "I wonder why." Oh I know all of you are saying, Duh, everybody knows Oh-what-wow is what the sisters are saying and that you inevitably and constantly find some occasion where you say, Oh-what-wow! Did you see that cool car or Oh-what-wow, you mean we just smoked bubonic chronic! or Oh-what-wow look at that. He's the GREATEST DANCER!
And for that matter, why would anyone want to go to a disco on the outskirts of Frisco? I mean really who even says, Frisco? And out-of-towners touring? And this guy is the star of the show preying on the out-of-towners. You just know he wears Paco Raban and bikini underwear.
“Oh-what-wow, I'll have Buttermilk pancakes, short stack, hash browns, orange juice and an ashtray, please.”