Saturday, January 31, 2015
The Romance of RVing
Jixxy used ‘em and threw ‘em away!
Before Stella, that is. Her RV kept him around, and its
Friday Ritual.
He’d shower at the campground, chucking the robe
as soon he got back into the RV.
Thence, danced as she drove while glimpsing his
strenuous efforts in the jiggling mirror.
When he finally bowed, all-hair like a wet ape, she
usually spotted a quiet place to pull in.
After everything, the icy milk she had placed an hour
before in the tiny freezer, and her chocolate chip cookies,
still warm and aromatic in the airtight canister he had
bought at Home Depot.
And she had lined with waxed paper.
“They’re forever,” he mused, lightly burping, a
string of sweat beads on his upper lip, through
the milk there.
“As if we could wait!”
“Like us! You Sex Bomb!” concluded he.
Labels: cookies, Home Depot, milk, Romance, RV, sex, wet ape, wet hair
Friday, January 30, 2015
-What's it like to be so so immensely rich?
-You've known me since kids, and a question like that?
Like from some cheap website!
-I'm curious sometimes. But haven't felt free to ask.
-You're free to say or do anything? How can I control you?
-Through that coal-black dude looks like a wall, watching
us while pretending not to.
-A gentle giant.
-I'm sure. And if I did a thing we did as kids assing around...
like grab that pen from that threadbare flannel shirt pocket...?
-He'd be all over you like a cheap suit!
-Being constantly watched! Jesus! Bodyguards!
-Used to it. And hate it. Both.
-Get death threats?
-Daily, I suppose. They don't tell me.
-Can you ever get alone?
-In the inner portions of the island. The bad guys can’t get
through the cameras on the perimeters.
-Owning an island. Like to try that!
-As everything, tremendous responsibility! Besides I don't
own it entirely. There's that resort.
-Felicity Blot? Who the hell ever heard of such a name?
-Lady author, Victorian times, pen and ink, and thus...
-The modern name is Fuck-a-Lot. Did you know that?
-No, I didn't.
-Another rich dude parks the crazy wife at Bide-a-Bit, and
then breaks in the new secretary there. A giggler!
-Whatever. I can’t supervise the morality there.
-Bullshit! You own the resort too!
-I can't say that I do.
-Yeah, for tax purposes--where you're a criminal, really.
-True, but a legal one.
-How can you live with yourself?
-Rather easily when it's only me.
-Meeting in Paris apartment next, according to
Wall Street Journal. Girl in every port sort of thing?
-All business. Drenched in business.
-And scaring the shit outa the guys in suits, I'll bet.
-A regrettable part, always.
-You really are a prick after all's said and done!
-Guilty. But the only way I keep things in line.
-Then London? Rio?
-Same show. Thence back to island.
-Where the female employees of the resort constitute a harem.
-I only can handle one at a time!
-Life is mostly an immense cramp in the balls for you, but it
has, yes?, its compensations?
-Love that last word!
Labels: friendship, guys in suits, harem, island, London, Paris, protection, resort, Rio, tax avoidance, tax fraud, wealthy, women, WSJ
Thursday, January 29, 2015
One Academic Life
NFZ
The Professor perched at the end of the bar
at Kippy's Kool Kup, observed our antics with
half-lidded, yet twinkling, amusement, and
always paid by check at closing time.
He only spoke when asked a question, the
answer to which could be unraveled during
the rest of the week.
Well, a benign presence, really. Until a
strange evening when one, Laurie, sought
to flirt with him for the absolute hell of it.
Unfortunately, a scattered argument ensued
during which the Professor pushed her right
nipple as if she were a doorbell.
An immediate slap! One of the loudest sounds
ever heard there.
Immediate hysterics from the young lady--which
her friends later classified as one-quarter genuine--
and Kippy jumped in and told the Professor to leave.
Fortunately a semi-famous hockey player known to
Laurie entered upon his exit, and she leapt into his
comforting arms.
A week, and no Professor, so we tried to find out his
phone number. Unlisted. And where he lived.
His Department Chair popped in and asked for direct
intervention. He gave us the address.
A hearing would be held if this temporary recluse
didn't make his next scheduled class.
So, I enlisted Mark, the former Green Beret, and his
brother, former Navy Seal. Thus, heavy lifters,
supervised by weak me.
(Mark's brother might have had a name but we always
referred to him as Mark's Brother--as in “Hey Mark's
Brother, what's the point spread on the Giants-Eagles?”)
Anyway, we sped off to the Professor's efficiency.
No answer, but I knew the lock and took out my Swiss
Army Knife. "Take a few minutes," I informed the
musculars.
They, of course, shouldered the door in.
The Professor sprung up like Hamlet's Father's
Ghost from a daybed indistinguishable from
surrounding papers and books.
"What is the outrage of this meaning?" as a scotch bottle
crashed to the tile floor.
“The outrage?” Mark's Brother snapped, “is that you
stink!”
“Yeah,” added Mark, and a shower will take care of
the meaning.”
So, they hauled him into the bathroom.
Much rushing water and protests as I piled
up things more evenly, so the Board of Health
wouldn't condemn the dump outright.
Mark’s Brother had prepped for the Seals
at the state reform school, and had evidently
learned towel-snapping at naked victims there.
Thus when the water went off, loud snaps and
extraordinary howls.
Long story short, Professor back at his school.
And his stool.
Diehard pricks in the department still wanted
the hearing, but the Chairman rustled up an old
paper on Wordsworth our hero had written, and the
damned incomprehensible thing won an award.
So, Prof secure in both domains presently.
Mark’s Brother exhibits a surprising artistic flair
fashioning a stand-up sign for Prof's station at
the bar. Midst curlicues and obese Cupids diagonally
slashed in red, it reads “NFZ.”
For No-Female Zone.
Labels: academic, art, bar, betting, binge, Cupid, English Dept, female, football, sex, teacher, Wordsworth
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
CIA Conversation--Imagined, Naturally
Levers of Power Regarding Levers of Power
-His governance mode is screaming.
-That's one in that part of the world.
-Aides so terrified they do nothing.
The tribes take that as carte blanche
to murder each other. Outside groups
send in suicide bombers as frosting
on the cake.
-Is there a central opposition?
-Woman. I know her. Powerhouse of ideas
all over the map. Nobody regards her
seriously.
-If a teacher, she couldn't get tenure, huh?
That type? Intellectual and incompetent?
-Most of the newer leadership we deal with.
-Well, let's stop with him. Push for elections?
-Not in the Constitution.
-What? We wrote it?
-Right-wing college boys and girls did when they
were shoved in there. So frantic with John Galt’s
Utopia, they brushed a few minor things off.
-Next move with...?
-He goes!
-Exile I like immensely. No real fallout.
-I was thinking that one to heaven, to cavort
with virgins.
-Approve! Get it done.
-Within the quarter-hour!”
-How could you...move that fast?
-By moving fast beforehand. Excuse me
while I answer this call.
-You’re excused, and if that’s all...?
-He’s out of our hair forever!
-Impossible!
-I told you. In the works already.
-I...don't know if I like that.
-Initiative.
Labels: action, assassination, CIA, executive decision, fast action, method, murder, preparation
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Conversing Hardly Restricted
No problem detailing the horrendous abuse legally.
Thus, Debs acquitted.
Jelly, from the Evidence Room, offered to fix the
Colt, which had jammed after the fatal bullet.
She said yes, but take his time. She had purchased
a pretty Ruger--his family muttering against her.
The Colt attempted to speak to it upon eventual
arrival, but it proved snooty.
Labels: Colt, female, guns, Law, murder, Ruger
Monday, January 26, 2015
Battlefield, and Refuge
The Campaign Manager
-Well, I've entered Politics! You'll laugh, but I feel
almost as if I entered a monastery!
-Scale that back a bit. Uh, a big picnic at Harsee Falls? Teens? Ring a bell?
-I was there.
-Lots of sex?
-Maybe some handsome guys hooked up. But I recall sitting with a guy name Ferdie. Sipping homemade wine. Both of us mud turtles in attractiveness.
-Ghinny Red! you drank. But don't ever call it that!
-Of course not!
-And at no time did you rip off the panties of one,
Dierdre?
-Is this a filthy joke? I've never know any Dierdres.
How hurtful!
-Ferdie says the opposite, and he'll be your opponent. A real Ghinny Champion!
-Well, hit them with both barrels! Liars!
-It's not a film with Jimmy Stewart. Relax!
-I never in my life...!
-Welcome to OUR monastery!
-What'll we do, then?
-I'll chat with Ferdie. We got more on him
than they had on Dillinger. I wouldn't be
surprised if the campaign hinged on issues,
would you believe? With you a real boyscout,
and him pretending.
-Wow! When it's over I'll want to dive into
a monastery all right!
-Is it Trappists don't talk?
-My choice!
Labels: boyscout, dirty politics, monastery, newbie, sex, Trappist
Sunday, January 25, 2015
States of Responsibilities
-I promised to go to The French Shop,
and buy two little quiches for Monette.
Her party.
-Hop to it! mon ami.
-Only one problem. Was in a dream.
-Well, buy them tonight whilst slumbering.
-You can't just...!
-Yeah you can! Rehearse it just before you cork off.
-Just a dream, why bother?
-She'll get you!
-In a dream or...?
-Both!
-The...little microscopic way she cuts
those things!
-Yeah, it's tediously beautiful. Symbolizing one
of her rare soft moods.
-I think I'll go there today, French Shop, and
buy the damn things awake.
-Safest.
Labels: dream, quiche, reality, strong women
Saturday, January 24, 2015
All’s Well
Good Guy and Good Gal
go to a party
and nod off.
After that, every-
one does.
Drinks grow flat
and chips wilt.
Hostesses speeds back
from 7-11 w/ad-
ditional Diet Coke.
The sight brings her tears.
Her guides never detailing
how to keep people awake.
But she rallies: “Hey!
What is this? The Night
of the Living Dead?”
Her boyfriend, Murph,
shoves the sodas in
the frig while muttering
of his weird dream.
“I hope about me!”
“No way! For you’re my true
dream everyday!” His bullshit
revs up all, and they rouse
now to dance. An awfully fast
one, so some fall down,
the start of a victorious Do!
Labels: dancing, Do, dull party, lovers, party, youth
Friday, January 23, 2015
The Fair Exchange of Ideas
The Debate
MALE MODERATOR
Welcome to our debate “Equal Pay For Women.”
I’d like to introduce Jeanette Otz of Get It Done!,
and Laurette Finnegan Bellcose, of Women For
Old Fashioned Rock-Ribbed Republican Values
of Holding Down Our Filthy Sex and helping Our
Admirable Men Gouge the American Consumer
Blind, Plus...
FEMALE AUDIENCE MEMBER
Whoa whoa whoa! She’s an egregious Troll!
LAURETTE
And you’re a whore!
FAM
It’ll be like two despicable Socialists arguing
JEANETTE
Slut!
MODERATOR
Let’s move everything to a higher plane, shall we?
LAURETTE AND JEANETTE
And you’re an asshole!
FAM
We can all agree on that!
Labels: debate, Equal Pay for Women, fairness, men, troll
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Appearance Is Reality
How To Understand By Conversing
-Repubs against equal pay for women?
-Not in spirit. But they point out that it'll actually
hurt the girls.
-Mustn't do that!
-Small employers'll throw in the sponge at yet
another government regulation! Thus hire fewer
or none.
-And large ones follow suit!
-The Party covers the waterfront.
-Don't they? Always proving that the inconveniencing
of their deep-pocket gombahs is, like, so totally bad
for the rest of us!
-That principle leads to the appearance of the abandoning
of principle altogether. And, sadly, leads the actually striving-
saintly among them to be labeled bullshitters. And their women
to be shamed again. Actually, all women, preferably.
-C'est la guerre, Madame et Mad-mwam-zellies!
-Why does your fractured French always make it worse?
-It can’t be made worse.
Labels: Equal Pay for Women, hypocrisy, Republican, Republican Propaganda, shaming, women
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Possibly Occurring on Delancy Street, NYC or Philly
Meaty Politics
-Went to see my parents in Cocoa Beach,
and the Publix has tripled their freezer
section in Health Foods. Got me some
Sunshine Burgers.
-Garden Herbal?
-The same.
-Must affect the Ranchers.
-Fuck ‘em! They’re all Republicans.
Labels: Cocoa Beach, Health Foods, Herbal, meat, Publix, Ranchers, Republican
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Wasting Time With Language
& how rare that is in Speedup America!
-It’s like football.
-How so? What is?
-You’re running with the ball and some oaf hammers you!
-Ouch!
-And you fumble. You jump on it, the ball. And all
the meat wagons do too--those who don’t jump
directly on you! And under there, they punch and
gouge you while others try to rip the ball away!
It’s a horror show–-with stinks!
-I get all that. But you’re comparing it to around HERE?
-Comparing what?
-Football, fumble, dirty shit!
-Who said anything about around here?
-Then, comparing to WHAT?
-Nothing! It’s Football, that’s all.
-But you said like, like, something was LIKE football.
-Sure!
-Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out!
-Good luck with all of that!
-You take the Patience of Job!
-My wife always says that. But, like you, she always says a lot of things.
-Uh huh?
-Says a lot of things.
Labels: confusion, football, friends, job, language, Patience of Job
Monday, January 19, 2015
Car Guy and Politician
-Well, Congressman! Still that five
handicap at golf? Well, I'm a ten and
yet I'll whip your ass for a few hundred
buckarinos this next time!
-Uh huh? We’ll see about that!
-Bring cash. I don’t take American Express.
-All talk as usual! But that's hardly why I'm
calling: Our German friends we previously
discussed are actually manufacturing
that crazy concept car they featured at the
New York Show.
-In der Black Forest? Mit der elves?
-Mostly robots, and they've kept it pretty
damn secret.
-It'll kick the crap outa top of our line!
Thanks for the tip. We'll plug in some
Flash-Trash to mute them. Beat them
to a release date with it! Afterwards,
we’ll run some clever ads to mock this
Vundercar!
-Funny stuff always!
-Butter up the right sarcastic critics too.
-Remind me to never buy this impromptu mongrel
of yours!
-A tricked-up version could find its way your way.
For a trial merely, of course. But who’s saying how
long it can last?
-You better practice your long game! Mine’s a Tiger!
After hanging up, to his Confidential Aide:
-I'll always vote Republican. They cover more ass!
Labels: car, concept car, Congressman, CYA, German, golf, insider, insider knowledge, Republican, secrecy, trade secrets
Sunday, January 18, 2015
The Sheik of Bradham Falls
(...and the Handful)
A carpenter. Thus the gossips re the women
he "nailed." In his own hammering mind, legend!
When Ida's turn came up, her father delighted,
knowing her toughness. And hoping they'd eventually
marry, since she ate like three longshoremen.
The Sheik never experience a handful like her. Too,
she took over his messy books, as she had for her
father's hardware store.
Soon, she was literally running both businesses.
They eloped to Vegas, she not wanting the "crap"
of a big wedding. Besides, he had no family.
Her father had predicted she’d start popping the
babies out and never stop.
But she did, after five. The year he had a stroke, and
her mother Alzheimered out totally.
Both presently at Bide-a-Bit. Dr Gretz see progress, but
then shakes his head.
Ida at the hardware store all day now. And weekends at
the branch in the new shopping center.
The Shiek's carpentry business has prospered too:
Enough employees to qualify for Obamacare. (Ida, of
course, handles all that also.)
He has a couple of sad-ass affairs somewhere in there,
which Ida disposes of expeditiously.
The children? They've been dragged up. So, half-wild.
Not likely to end up with psychologists because they love
the freedom, and support each other tenaciously.
The town sees the couple as characters. His romantic past--
more talk than prowess, but never mind--and her ballistic drive.
The gossips fatally conclude “Married to a woman like that enough
to kill two men!”
Just one. The New Sheik is gray and courtly, but as full of shit.
Labels: business, children, gossip, handful, hard work, Obamacare, powerful women, sheik
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Sign, Initial
-You're sure, then? B and not A?
-Sure. Yes. B.
-Then, you sign here, and I initial
your signature as being from someone
I know.
-Done!
-Not quite. "The Statement of Intents and
Purposes." Mine. You must read it and
then...
-I already tried. It's incomprehensible.
-Lawyer-Language.
-I'll sign.
-No, just initial.
-Are we almost done?
-Yes! Believe it or not, though, I must ask you
once more as to B.
-I feel like saying "and may God have mercy
on my soul!"
-I too. We must be old-fashioned types.
Besides...it would be phrased: If there
is a God, would you like that apparent entity
to have mercy on your soul?
Both laugh.
-We mustn't laugh. Too serious.
-It's a bitter laugh. Fits all situations.
Labels: CYA, disclaimer, fill out form, form, God, Lawyer Language, mercy
Friday, January 16, 2015
Discussing Great Documents, 1
Both
Prostitution of the Constitution!
Left
Well, hafta bend things just a bit for our agenda.
Right
You like bend? We’ll show you BEND!
Left
Uh...there can be a middle ground.
Right
That’s for fairies!
Labels: agenda, Constitution, fairy, Left, Right
Thursday, January 15, 2015
The Couple Ariseth
in the Land of the Seldom Free and Rarely Brave
-Whoopie! Another gray day!
-Maybe it’s just your attitude?
-What the fuck else I got?
-WE got!
-I!
Labels: attitude, gray day, married, sharing
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Working Men and Women
In the Small Office Off the Receiving Dock
Bertie laughed “I was at home...in my usual déshabillé.”
Macko opined “We’ve all become faggots!”
“Untrue! Déshabillé has taken me a long way!”
“Impress the new girl with that French baloney.
Don’t forget to add a half-sweeping gesture
with a limp wrist!”
“Helen? The face that launched a thousand ships?”
“Wrecked some, but held most in port. At any rate,
she’s using it to get her Photo-ID just now.”
“Just a little romance’d render our Macko less wretched!”
“Get a boyfriend! Closet has warped you!”
“In or out? Sauerkraut! I’m both at once!”
“Then how ‘bout the two of you taking yourselves outside? We gotta truck coming in!”
Labels: AC/DC, closet, déshabillé, French, Helen, Iliad, working
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Keystone
Two in Considered Discussion
-Have I got a lovely pipeline for you!
-Where does it run?
-Right up your ass!
Labels: Keystone Pipeline, Senate Debate
When the Idiots Started Dancing
G misperceived, thinking that non-idiots
had to be invited.
But L reassured. -Think about it! Their
managing something like that? Be a
monster screw-up!
-I suppose.
-Nah! You just go.
He went.
-So? What transpired at the nitwits' bash?
-Surprising. It felt wonderfully...freeing!
-No surprise at all. It's our intellect gives us
most of the problems.
-But, old clothes next time. All that drool
flying around!
-Uh huh? And why this...sudden cloud
drifting in just this half-second?
-An anxiety.
-Worry not! Nobody will think YOU'RE an idiot.
-I know. This is America. With every pleasure,
a...soul-dig.
-How awkward! But, everywhere that Puritans sway. Banish it from what's left of your mind. It's a long process all in all: Idiot-Making.
-I'm glad of that!
-The mistake you made is not hanging out
with them sooner!
Labels: America, anxiety, dancing, idiot, Puritan
Monday, January 12, 2015
Je Suis etc
-You’re Charlie, hey? According to your homemade-spotcho T-shirt. On yellowed
stock from the Eisenhower Administration, obviously.
-I didn’t wanna ruin a nice new one.
-And speaking of yellow, I seem to remember
Cheese-eating Surrender Monkeys from your
mouth to any fellow imbecile’s right ear!
-That was then and...
-AND! your staunchly patriotic approval of
french fries being renamed FREEDOM FRIES
in the Horrid Halls of Congress.
-this is now! Plus, that’s Hallowed Halls.
-I forgot. I wonder why.
-Don’t you have...whatchacallit...with the French?
-Solidarity? Only with their idiots.
Labels: Congress, freedom fries, French, Je suis Charlie, solidarity, surrender monkeys, terrorism
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Aiding an Other
“You got the world on a string, Carlos!
Unfortunately, it's a greasy one!”
Glenda's last remark as she embarked
on a sales trip.
Puzzled, he asked Monette. "Oh she's just
Othering. It's what we do to those not
True-Blue American Idiots."
“But I am! A citizen!”
“Just a fact. We're talking about perceptions.”
“Well, how do I...?”
“Listen! For a start, go to the football game
tonight with my brother. He's a Uniformed
Fireman. Helps carry that humongous flag.
Covers the whole field! With soldiers, sailors,
cops, those patriotic by profession.”
“And me? Great!”
“Well, not exactly, uh, across the field for you.
You'll be a Flag Wrangler, dragging it off the
truck with other Others, wrestling it through
the gate, unfolding the whole massive thing
for the washed ones to get under it. Hoist it.
March it billowing out. Ah!”
"Washed-unwashed? You're starting to sound
like Glenda!”
“You're not a Spick Terrorist are you?”
“Monette! I trusted you!”
“I'm sorry. Just a brief fit. It’s in the genes!”
Labels: greasy, Hispanic, Other, Othering, patriotism, prejudice, spick, terrorist
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Water and Depth
His Friend, Ridge
-You know, Ridgey, my condo‘s on a river. Water, yes?
-I’m following.
-It’s pretty at sunset, and when the dolphins come, but I don’t go into it any further than that.
-So what?
-Thoreau makes me guilty with all the detail about Walden Pond.
-Hey! He’s a philosopher. Deeper and deeper into shit!–-what they do.
-I still don’t feel quite right...
-Look at me! Omar Khayyam says I was never deep in anything save wine? Well, I was never deep in anything, period!
-You exaggerate!
-Understate.
Labels: condo, depth, Omar Khayyam, Philosophy, Thoreau, Walden, water
Friday, January 09, 2015
Working Conditions
Zink adored the fierce concentration
needed in his position at Consolidated.
Thus when women flooded noisily by his
cubicle on breaks, he seethed.
A narrowing of passageways there formed
a sort of choke-point.
So he choked one.
Sorry for the cheap rhetorical trick, but
it IS expressive of the language of his
present domicile, where men joke of their
fatal transgressions at cards etc.
Except George Washington.
"I AM THE FATHER OF MY COUNTRY!"
insists he, periodically.
The rest of the time, though, he inhabits
Roseltandazerfaland, in fantastic scifi imagery.
Quite worth listening for, if the men would bother.
Zink does, now dwelling on a beautiful promontory there.
Some place!
Labels: fantasy, insanity, irritation, perfectionism, scifi, women, work
Thursday, January 08, 2015
Sauce, Gander, Goose
-After Hoppy died, Glads wanted to give me his expensive
Bermuda Shorts. But I hadda try them on in her pinkish room,
and she kept popping in to check the fits. And feel my ass.
Not to mention squeeze my dick a little!
-Horrors!
-And that maid, Marie, did almost the same thing!
-And me with no smelling salts! Sit down anyway.
-Oh I know I’m easy to tease! I grew up without sisters, and
never learned much about women.
-No one really does.
-Naive, I know. Naive!
-You perform a useful function. We have the female dumb blonde
stereotype. You’re sorta the male version for the gals.
-That’s awful!
-Not really! We all love you! Both sexes. No, uh, use going home
tonight in all this rain!
-Completely...dry out there.
-Let’s remain dry.
Labels: dumb blonde, handsome, molestation, sex, sexism, sister, stereotyping, women
Wednesday, January 07, 2015
Sin and Stance
-Goethe said he never heard of a sin he could not commit.
-That’s the old German dude, yes? I saw a picture of him
lounging in a white silk robe. Typical Fainting-Fairy Liberal.
-What he said was Liberal stuff?
-Of course! Indiscriminate Lover of Mankind! The whole
stupidly juvenile smear! Cum bye yah!
-Putting all that aside, how about Nonpartisan Sin, anyway?
-I've heard hundreds I couldn't commit. So many that I just
pick a few non-swish ones at random and let fly!
-Isn't that pretty wild?
-Some get hurt. But it's their own fault.
-Do they forgive? Do you ask?
-Excuse me. Drawing a blank here: not familiar with the word.
Labels: Conservative, forgiveness, Goethe, liberal, sin
Tuesday, January 06, 2015
The Drunk and the Congressman
-Instead of spending billions to go into
a country to destroy it, and then even
more billions to rebuild it, why not...?
-Just not go in at all?
-Too much common sense?
-One way to put it. But our contributors have
fingers in the pie. And need the other hand free
to salute.
-Patriotism and mega-cash?
-That’s it! Show Business–-no business like.
-Hey! I’M the bitter souse here!
-Move over!
Labels: boondoggle, Congressman, drunk, money in politics, patriotism, rebuilding, Show Business, war
Monday, January 05, 2015
Three Suspect Pairs
Brace of Wits
-The woman who screws routinely routinely screws.
-I’d a-thought she’d get good at it.
-That’s your Achilles’ Heel!
-What’s my...?
-What you just said.
-I forgot it. Oh! Do you mean...?
-Thinking.
-We both need work there.
---
Ripsey and Suds
-First thing I win the twenty million on Powerball,
I register Republican!
-So fast?
-Gonna turn asshole anyway, might as well
go for it!
---
Biff and Gladys
-People will little note what we said here.
-There’s a reason.
Labels: Achilles, Gettysburg Address, Lincoln, Powerball, promiscuity, Republican
Sunday, January 04, 2015
Dates of a Day
The Bachelor Rises
to sniff his shorts.
“They smell of me
and not of pee.”
Dinner with K last night
proved icy cold. Cross
her off! R will set up Coffee
later. Any fattening Danish
she desires: it’s Dutch.
That flops since her mother
requires her for a rush
trip to Arthritis Doc. Thus
he phones L for a walk through
the park. “It’s so beautiful
this time of year!”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks therein.
“Yeah it’s beautiful,” he affirms.
Labels: bachelor, date, dating, relationship, routine, women
Saturday, January 03, 2015
Gauging Things
Two Mature Women
-We go out and come back. Then he wants
to fool around.
-How are you with that?
-I don’t care. About it or him.
-Motivated beyond the average then.
Labels: attitude, maturity, motivation, sex, women
Friday, January 02, 2015
Attempting To Demonstrate Potential
Ad Show
-Technically Brilliant...
-Ah hah!
-and throughly stupid!
-Our Presentation! Cue Chorus of Angels!
-Opens with Alpine...
-where we see the mountain goat leaping
from precipice to precipice...
-and back again to piss!
-How many screens to terminally behold?
-I lost count.
-And the potential client bought it?
-Hook, line, and stinker!
-Does it close with the Product?
-Amen amen I say to you, as something
verily to be adored!
-All essentially dishonest!
-Now hold on there, podner! I didn’t say
it was THAT good!
Labels: advertising, client, multimedia, Presentation
Thursday, January 01, 2015
The Village
“Is This Short Enough?"
When wife Gemma left to start a software shop in Seattle--
relying on the Old Man's money--Rick at sixes and sevens.
A heat wave struck the village and he cut down some old jeans,
modeling them for Marco, buddy.
"You went too far, and the effect is genital. Trying to attract boys?"
"Neither boys or girls. Just...be cool."
"Forever beyond you. Listen! you better get moving! Unless you
want to die an unrequited fairy in this nondescript burg."
The words stung so, he began dating the Postmistress, a stump
enamored of Hollywood romantic comedies of the thirties,
which they watched.
And watched.
Labels: divorce, fairy, friendship, genital, loneliness, relationship, romantic comedy, separation, village, village life
