Chapter 1; Verse 1::
Our story begins the way many others don’t with an end. In fact THE END. The end to all that was ever known or sought or thought or bought or sold or speculated upon. The end to all that was conceived or concealed or revealed or congealed. The end of all things, the most important of which at least to this story, the end of all human life.
Some said it would end in fire, others said Ice. Still others said we would Nuke each other to death. Some said the world was warming up to fast, some said it was too chilly so you should put on your jacket. A good many thought that the year 2000 would bring a cataclysmic event, at least financially although the smart money was on 2012. But alas both bets were wrong. And thus God really confused everybody when he simply popped his head out of his far off interstellar hut and said:
“SHUT THAT LIGHT OFF… Can’t a guy get some sleep around here?” And there was no light. No Light meant no life. With this one sentence God uncreated all that he had created. It took him a week the first time and he had been resting ever since. This time it took him roughly 5 seconds.
To be continued…
Monday, January 14, 2013
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Poems are Lies and All Poets Liars
You can not compare a good woman to a summer's day
The cage bird doesn't sing, it perches, pecks, and parrots because nothing happens to a deferred dream
Raisins are still dried up grapes even when you call them roses
But that doesn't stop the bard and his cronies from churning out their verses.
The world won't end in fire or in ice, and gold will still be here long after we're gone
Nothing and no one depends upon a red wheel burrow
And there is no such thing as green eggs and ham
Even Chaucer looking at his world through a microscope
Ne'er dared to examine himself with he couplets many
Too busy satirizing all others in his company
Let's face it if Mary had a little lamb she'd surely sheer and sell that snow white fleece
and supper on lamb chops.
All poems are lies and the poets liars
Just like this one. And this one.
The cage bird doesn't sing, it perches, pecks, and parrots because nothing happens to a deferred dream
Raisins are still dried up grapes even when you call them roses
But that doesn't stop the bard and his cronies from churning out their verses.
The world won't end in fire or in ice, and gold will still be here long after we're gone
Nothing and no one depends upon a red wheel burrow
And there is no such thing as green eggs and ham
Even Chaucer looking at his world through a microscope
Ne'er dared to examine himself with he couplets many
Too busy satirizing all others in his company
Let's face it if Mary had a little lamb she'd surely sheer and sell that snow white fleece
and supper on lamb chops.
All poems are lies and the poets liars
Just like this one. And this one.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Brunch!!!
A BRUNCH DIALOGUE!!!
“what are you thinking about?”
“actually I was imagining that they have a giant vat of mornay sauce back there in the kitchen, which made me wonder what it would be like to jump into a giant vat of mornay sauce”
“can you float in mornay sauce.”
“ I am not sure, I imagine it would be more like quicksand, the more you struggle the further you sink.”
“I can’t imagine not being able to float in water.”
“maybe it would be so thick that you would stay on top as long as you were placed atop, with a crane very gentle like.”
“I am hot Are you not hot? Its hot in here isn’t it?”
“I am warm.”
“It’s hot.”
“yeah.”
“You don’t think it is hot?”
“I said yes it is warm in here…”
“You don’t seem affected.”
“What is it you want… you want me to complain and say that I am uncomfortable?”
“I was just saying I am hot.”
“It is hot, you are hot, it has been noted.”
“How do you get rid of a hangover.”
“Sleep… water.”
“Maybe I will sweat it out.”
“You are in the right place its soooo hot in here!!!”
“Screw you.”
“I betcha it would be a lot warmer in a vat of mornay sauce.”
“Ugh bathing in hot cream to cure a hangover…”
“Are you going to eat your pickle?”
“I dunno I hadn’t thought about it yet… maybe.”
“Well let me know…”
“They should make sleeves to put around pickles to protect your sandwich.”
“But I like it when the chips get a little pickle juice on them…”
“Well yeah sure half soggy pickled potato chips are great but I mean to protect the bread of the sandwich.”
“Maybe they should have pickle condoms.”
“That’s practicing safe sandwich.”
:::sounds of a pickle being eaten very slowly:::
“what are you thinking about?”
“actually I was imagining that they have a giant vat of mornay sauce back there in the kitchen, which made me wonder what it would be like to jump into a giant vat of mornay sauce”
“can you float in mornay sauce.”
“ I am not sure, I imagine it would be more like quicksand, the more you struggle the further you sink.”
“I can’t imagine not being able to float in water.”
“maybe it would be so thick that you would stay on top as long as you were placed atop, with a crane very gentle like.”
“I am hot Are you not hot? Its hot in here isn’t it?”
“I am warm.”
“It’s hot.”
“yeah.”
“You don’t think it is hot?”
“I said yes it is warm in here…”
“You don’t seem affected.”
“What is it you want… you want me to complain and say that I am uncomfortable?”
“I was just saying I am hot.”
“It is hot, you are hot, it has been noted.”
“How do you get rid of a hangover.”
“Sleep… water.”
“Maybe I will sweat it out.”
“You are in the right place its soooo hot in here!!!”
“Screw you.”
“I betcha it would be a lot warmer in a vat of mornay sauce.”
“Ugh bathing in hot cream to cure a hangover…”
“Are you going to eat your pickle?”
“I dunno I hadn’t thought about it yet… maybe.”
“Well let me know…”
“They should make sleeves to put around pickles to protect your sandwich.”
“But I like it when the chips get a little pickle juice on them…”
“Well yeah sure half soggy pickled potato chips are great but I mean to protect the bread of the sandwich.”
“Maybe they should have pickle condoms.”
“That’s practicing safe sandwich.”
:::sounds of a pickle being eaten very slowly:::
Thursday, October 25, 2012
The BLOG BLOG Blog
Welcome to the BLOG Blog-
Where we talk about blogs and all the blogging people who love to blog their little blogging hearts out. All these bloggies blog all blogging day long. They blog and they blog and they think we give a blog about what goes on in their bloggie brains. In the opinion of this blogger they should all be blogged in their blogging blogs and then go blog themselves.
Until next Time
Blogward J. Blogington
Cheif Blogenginere of the BLOG BLOG Blog
Where we talk about blogs and all the blogging people who love to blog their little blogging hearts out. All these bloggies blog all blogging day long. They blog and they blog and they think we give a blog about what goes on in their bloggie brains. In the opinion of this blogger they should all be blogged in their blogging blogs and then go blog themselves.
Until next Time
Blogward J. Blogington
Cheif Blogenginere of the BLOG BLOG Blog
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The King Of Partytown
His stumbly shadow is creeping up the alley, penetrating the ghostly light
The king stomps through as if falling towards something
Away, distant music, the sound of revelers in their prime
He finds a quiet spot to lean and relieve himself
The world is his urinal this king, this giant, this emperor, of this Party Town
Fumbling with his royal scepter, just in time, he sighs and pays tribute to the cobbles
Kings ne’er lose balance, the wire fence is kind enough to support
He extends the royal palm and greets the fence with a kingly grumple and glurp
A sprightly puss scurries forth from a waste bin with a mew and a hiss
“FUCK YOU KITTY!”
The King yells, for a cat is nothing to a King
A mongrel awakened by the commotion of the King’s visit
Rushes to the fence to get a closer look at the dark regal figure
They bark and howl at one another ‘til they both succumb to wheezes and pants
The King lets out a glorious hiccup that shakes his majestic frame
Breathing through dragons nostrils
The King empties his tyrants stomach
What a gracious King for this second gift to the city
The imperial spasms begin to subside
The King of Party Town wipes his lips and saunters on into the night
In search of more libations and revelry
The way back has been blocked by metallic monsters
Blue strobe lightening bolts shooting from their heads
The King turns his nose up at these party poopers and strolls on
Party Town ain’t what it used to be he thinks
Perhaps a late night dip in the cleansing river
A King’s baptism
The river city is teaming with life as the King of Party Town sheds his clothes
A man, a myth, a legend, a giant, a GOD
The water holds him as he gazes up
At the city
His CITY!
“I OWN THIS BITCH!!!” he screams into the night
The king stomps through as if falling towards something
Away, distant music, the sound of revelers in their prime
He finds a quiet spot to lean and relieve himself
The world is his urinal this king, this giant, this emperor, of this Party Town
Fumbling with his royal scepter, just in time, he sighs and pays tribute to the cobbles
Kings ne’er lose balance, the wire fence is kind enough to support
He extends the royal palm and greets the fence with a kingly grumple and glurp
A sprightly puss scurries forth from a waste bin with a mew and a hiss
“FUCK YOU KITTY!”
The King yells, for a cat is nothing to a King
A mongrel awakened by the commotion of the King’s visit
Rushes to the fence to get a closer look at the dark regal figure
They bark and howl at one another ‘til they both succumb to wheezes and pants
The King lets out a glorious hiccup that shakes his majestic frame
Breathing through dragons nostrils
The King empties his tyrants stomach
What a gracious King for this second gift to the city
The imperial spasms begin to subside
The King of Party Town wipes his lips and saunters on into the night
In search of more libations and revelry
The way back has been blocked by metallic monsters
Blue strobe lightening bolts shooting from their heads
The King turns his nose up at these party poopers and strolls on
Party Town ain’t what it used to be he thinks
Perhaps a late night dip in the cleansing river
A King’s baptism
The river city is teaming with life as the King of Party Town sheds his clothes
A man, a myth, a legend, a giant, a GOD
The water holds him as he gazes up
At the city
His CITY!
“I OWN THIS BITCH!!!” he screams into the night
Another long lost letter from Rasputin's young Lover
My Darling Rasputin,
Your essence is like oxygen to me. I keep dreaming of you wondering when my mystical pilgrim will return. When will he bring an end to this eternal Siberian winter. I yearn for your mystical throbbing scepter. Without you I am the empty, barren tundra. I still feel you where you were inside me and I want you there again. Return to me oh Rasputin my love or love is dead.
Das Va Danya
Svetlana Banglanka
P.S. OMG!! I heard you were anti-war me too. Of course, we have to do what is good for mother Russia, but not at the cost of innocent lives. Oh you are so smart and cute I want to kiss you right on your scraggley beard. SMOOCHIES!!!
Your essence is like oxygen to me. I keep dreaming of you wondering when my mystical pilgrim will return. When will he bring an end to this eternal Siberian winter. I yearn for your mystical throbbing scepter. Without you I am the empty, barren tundra. I still feel you where you were inside me and I want you there again. Return to me oh Rasputin my love or love is dead.
Das Va Danya
Svetlana Banglanka
P.S. OMG!! I heard you were anti-war me too. Of course, we have to do what is good for mother Russia, but not at the cost of innocent lives. Oh you are so smart and cute I want to kiss you right on your scraggley beard. SMOOCHIES!!!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
GUM!
My Chinese friend Gum and I were driving in the car and he was telling me about how one time he disintegrated. All of his cells and particles and atoms dissolved out into the Universe. In this moment he felt a complete deep spiritual connection with the Universe. More than a connection in fact, he was the universe. In that instant he became every blade of grass blowing in the wind. He felt the plight of the homeless and indigent and felt the immortality of the rockstar. He was the morning dew and a cloudy sunrise bleeding orange, red and purple sweeps across the sky. To him it seemed he was consciousness. It was at this point that it all came to him. The answer to the eternal question. A meaning to this life. A purpose to these seemingly random events and to natures cruelty. I asked him what the answer was and he responded. “I dunno dude… I forgot.”
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