Thursday, March 31, 2016

 

Punishing Women


...a drinking venue of some renown
 

-Trump wants to punish women.

-Good!

-Well, not generally speaking. In connection
with Abortion.

-Let’s stick with generally speaking.

-Really?

-Let ‘em have it! Then maybe they’ll stop
their lousy behavior before it starts!

-Premature punishment?

-You bet your ass!

-I’ve known you many a year, but this is
the first I’ve sensed greatness!

-I try.

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Wednesday, March 30, 2016

 

Motives Here and There


When The Knucklehead died, we made a history
of his quotes.

His wife and two daughters took it as wit.

Our Charlotte and Dumpy had tee shirts printed:

           JE  SUIS  KNUCKLEHEAD

Tough sell in a time of solidarity with nothing.

We gave most to Goodwill.     

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Tuesday, March 29, 2016

 

Responsible


-I told him that Dorine threatened to kill herself?

-What did he say?

-That’s her fuckin lookout!

-I really admire stupid guys.

-How so? They’re stupid!

-They’ve simplified life.

-The only model they can understand.
While...I...worry about Dorine. Can’t sleep!
As he’s out talking his drivel to other
senseless women. And she’s probably
sawing away after tears!

-Surrounded by dolls and teddy bears?

-One would suppose.

-Well, you’re not her Daddy!

-I’m everybody’s!

-Physician heal thyself!

-Burnt-out case.

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Monday, March 28, 2016

 

Minor Chapter, Major War



-Celeste marched out spouting some feminist shit! I’ll never understand that crap!


-Easy! You inflamed her with your stupid macho!

-I bent over backwards!

-Great  mistake! They plot together when they sniff weakness.

-Then, where’s the cure?

-None! But a partial one consists of two words. Unchanged since the cave.

-Yes, Dear?

-And YOU’RE insensitive? I think NOT!

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Sunday, March 27, 2016

 

Walking With Genius


...and other colossal wastes

-I don’t get Math.

-Who could?

-Why always expect me to?

-Well...they do pay us to profess it.

-How could I profess anything? I’d feel
ridiculous.

-Uh...moving right along, what is working
on you now?

-I don’t know.

-That late a stage! I’m impressed.

-A month to polish and...

-Will I hafta hear you’re the Genius of the
Age again?

-Hope not. People come and ask questions.
It’s all so stupid!

-How public! Like a frog! Will they ask why
you’re not wearing socks?

-They stink even before you put them on!

-Uh huh? Your Carly-Ann is obviously at the
same Weekend For Bossy Broads as my
Jensy. She’ll soon announce her presence,
and where the sock drawer is.

-Announce! They’re both Announcers!

-Thank God for it! The quiet is rancid in
my place.

-Quiet is gold!

-Yeah, for idiot misers such as you. By the
bye? November? Cold? No jacket?

-Jackets are for forgetting.

-What’s next for you after the inevitable trophy?

-Absurdity.

-That’s for everyone.

-No, there’s a math to feel around in there.

-Rotza Ruck! Here...as I lean fatly forward and
fetch a rock. Expense of breath! Anyway, premature prize for you!

-I’ll treasure! Put it on my mantel.

-Because of the angle, no one will see it.

-I’ll prop atop one of the whatchacallits.

-Good! Whatchacallits rule! Maybe we should...
partner in this latest nonsense?

-I don’t think so.

-Mother never taught to share?

-Never taught anything.

-And Father?

-Abstracted.

-No wonder you’re a genius. You’re unlearned!





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Saturday, March 26, 2016

 

Those Early Moments


-Uh uh. Double dating off. Giselle left.
And in a fit you wouldn't believe!

-Try me.

-Nah. I don't need "How stupid you are!"

-I'd never say that. Your case is too tangled.

-I even took a course this time!

-What was that about?

-(sings) Feelings. Feeee-eee-eee-eee-eeelings!

-Warn me if ever you do that again.

-No Sinatra I?

-Some are born talented. Some achieve...

-Yeah, yeah? And some never arrive!

-Hey! Not to mind! For every man there's
a woman. And yours is being discharged
from a nuthouse as we speak.

-Is she violent?

-Not at first.

-I live for those early moments. The warmth.
And sex, even.

-Assorted roses a good idea. Bound to be ONE
variety she likes.

-I've made a note!

-Ah you're a good-hearted lad! But if you
didn't have bad luck you'd have none
at all.

-Tomorrow is another day!

-And another and another and...

-Heart for every fate!

-Just stop it!




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Friday, March 25, 2016

 

Past Past


Mel and Ginger

-Saw a Perry Mason Dude taking flash picture with huge Speed Graphic! Shoots spent bulb into ashtray. Three anachronisms right there!

-Then Paul Drake helps Della into her coat?

-Making four. Quartet.

-Add yourself to make five! Tenor for a Dead World!

-High baritone!

-As ballsy!

-I try.

-Let's rent Perry's Lincoln Convertible and wave
to your fans.

-Arms worn out!

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Thursday, March 24, 2016

 

Etc


-Huddled Masses!

-Let em huddle! Or fuckin drown!

-What kind of American are you?

-An ALL-American!

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Wednesday, March 23, 2016

 

Soundscape


 He woke up to the world CLANKING!

Then the alarm buzzed like a thousand
hornets!

He eventually microwaved pancakes,
but ate them fairly clammy since
the oven had roared so.

Okay. Okay. So the Big Noise had
beset him. Others had written on the
Internet not to bother with the
expensive remedies and prescriptions.

Useless.

After a week, would go away, they promised.

He thought he could stand it. The acid
test: Head Librarian, MRS Aldo Barsi,
whose voice ground glass anyway.

The next apartment’s pretty teen always
sang of a morning. Dulcet. This one,
a drunken chorus of cruel Masons.

When the diesel bus came to pick him up
it sounded like a hundred.

Mr Detts announced the stops. He clamped
his ears against him this morning. But when
he got to his destination, couldn't avoid the
extraordinary clash of "Merve and Grove
Avenues, CROSSROADS OF THE WORLD!"

He smiled back at Driver Detts. No use
revealing one’s malady of the Big Noise.

The smiley types always reported things.

His schedule, thank God, favored him this day.
He had only to show a World War Two

propaganda film to ten separate classes from
Mother Cabrini High.

He tried to not be overfirm in shushing
the girls, though his head was exploding
from their super-raucous chatter!

Peeling Vegetables For the War Effort

“What a load of shit!” each class proclaimed.

Regarded the film as an treasured antique
and didn't appreciate the girls' fashionable
cynicism.

Then, the Head Librarian wished to see him!

That would kill! Kill!

But he caught a break, the only one ever.
She had thrown her husband out that morning
and was hot! Not in her usual icily corrective
mood. So, she cancelled!

On the bus home he blurted out his Big Noise
suffering to Mercy Collins, who put a large
hand on his knee. "Life goes too quiet anyway,"
proclaims she.

Who gets off at his stop and follows him up
to his apartment. He serves her Earl Grey
Tea, and he's Earl Grey to her from then on.

She's more active-minded about the BN
and orders a white-noise hearing aide.

The drone delivers an hour later by throwing
it through a cellar window.

The crash of broken glass terrifies him, of
course. Avalanche! But she fetches it, and
tunes it to his liking. Then cuddles him,
singing Irish lullabies. Which he can hear
as in a childhood dream.

She never leaves, which is the second only
break he has ever received.

“You turn me on, Earl!”



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Tuesday, March 22, 2016

 

The Small Family


They finally gave in when Mitz worked at
Sam’s Club part-time to get money, and
the discount, to buy her own smart phone.

“The beginning of the end!” Laurel pronounced
to Mac.

“I don’t understand women as you know.”

“Keep it that way. You’ll get to Heaven.”

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Monday, March 21, 2016

 

Living in America


-One shortwave station broadcasts only numbers.

-Not my idea of entertainment.

-CIA, I’m guessing. Hear your Operator ID, 

and then the numbers following are coded
instructions.

-The bad guys must listen in an attempt to 

crack the codes. So, lots of nonsense gotta 
be sprinkled in.

-There’s always nonsense.

-What a laugh! Does it make the world go round?

-Not quite, but adds to the richness of all chords.

-We can’t exist without insane fools?

-Amen!

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Sunday, March 20, 2016

 

Cats Don’t Die


We do because
we have rules.
And rituals.

They have none.
A spiritual anarchy

enables them to
live forever.

You point to Cleo
in her Birkenstock box.

The dirt and pebbles
You thudded on it.

Just Imagine
the thunder in
tiny ears! Most

likely her take
thereafter, a slow,
sarcastic burn.

Contact her
again? Never get

through the scorn.
Another cat guiding?

No deal, since
it’s Cleo: For

every cat you
attempt to pick
is her. Now,

every cat in
the world
isn't Cleo, true.

But you don't get
to really choose.
She doesn’t allow it.

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Saturday, March 19, 2016

 

College: getting in, getting on


Gritting of Teeth

-Larry didn’t get into State. Letter yesterday.

-A shame. My office will send you a list of
courses he should take in the junior college.
Then, next semester...?

-Be automatic?

-Nothing is. Just let me know when he’s
applying. Which you should have done
this time! Why didn’t...?

-Because I hate to owe!

-Grit your teeth, Joe, way things done.

...

Her Mother and Rachel Discuss Freshman Year 

at Rosary College

-I put you with good Catholic girls.

-Well...trying to be good, let’s say.

-That’s the same as good.

...

Routes to the Top

-Aren’t you just a bit apprehensive about
getting in? I kept rearranging my application
materials before sending the whole package
off. Then I got sick!

-Good luck! I’m all set.

-Why the confidence?

-As a alcoholic, and the son of social boozehounds
of the highest order, I’ve met the important
people.

-And that should do it?

-Where you been?

-A planet where you study all the time!

-That might not hurt.






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Friday, March 18, 2016

 

Extracting Words


I like the new movies, like,
a million-percent better.

Who has time for talk?

As in life, words slowwwww
everything.

But the scene of Genevieve and
Luc walking in the misty woods?
Maybe I’m half interested in the
Crap he’s shoveling her.

So I hafta ask Dialog Revealer on my
Virtual Reality.

“Nothing. Small talk similar to what
the birds are obviously saying.”

I comment Everything muffled, and that’s
always a good thing. So I can get on with
my freakin life!

“As...wishes tragic Genevieve! But you
haven’t murdered an old boyfriend!”

No shit? Oh show that!

“Plus, argument beforehand?”

Nah! The same as everybody’s.




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Thursday, March 17, 2016

 

Monitors Like Flowers


Horch certainly ran an information cubicle.

Monitored to the max, all the figures spilling
in every direction.

It had once been window dressing, of course,
for the famous O'Leary.

Who never worked, and retired normally.

Horch worked continuously, and now
added a white monitor.

We called his cubicle, then, The Hospital.

So he monitored, too, all the numbers
and graphs etc of his physical and
mental being.

We could hear him muttering when his
metabolism flew a bit.

"Better breathe, sit down a moment!"

We were all sitting down for restorative
moments at that time, for we had lost the
super important Switzky Account.

Well, anyway, to look at Horch outside
the cubicle...normal-looking guy.
Even a bit of fun to him.

Until the day his face turned bright
powder blue.

Was it a side effect of new prostate pills?

“You want the simple explanation, or the
simpler one?” asked Daldad.

Opted for the latter.


“Watch National Geographic on monkeys or chimps
or whatever. That the face of one, anyway. Don't
you see?” he almost pleaded. "His girlfriend made
a monkey outa him!"

Well, she had left. All his med readings were off.

Daldad phoned her on the sly to see if she could help.

At first she said "I woudn't give him the sweat off my...!"
But Daldad is persuasive, and she sent Horch a dried
fruit wheel from Harry and David, with the note. "I must
be free. I know you understand. You are so beautifully
supportive!"

His face toned down gradually and is now just tinged
the lightest powder blue.

Bottom line: the company specializes in agitation,
so the new CEO ordered all medical monitoring
to cease. "Making staff a bunch of hypochodriacs!"

We had a litmus paper client, so she didn't
object to those tests.

Horch has gone mad in touching various parts
of himself periodically.

I give credit to us all, though, in that RP is
scrupulously observed.

Rectal Privacy.



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Wednesday, March 16, 2016

 

Strategy


Jeanette S Windom could not have
been nicer. Mine was the biggest
snafu she had ever seen, but she
dove into the huge computer bank
and came up smiling.

I just knew I would have then, clutched
close, the 14e. That form of liberating
dreams!

She was fired next day.

I went to Republican Liaison at my job.
"We found we can kill morale by axing
the truly good ones," smiled he.

I couldn't believe such a policy!
"Civil Service Protections? Not to
mention Constitutional Rights?"

"Wipe our ass with both! How we get real!"

“You invite Revolution?”

“Only because we're bloodthirsty. But shove
past the necessarily vicious politics of life.
Your Jerry is some baseball player!”

“Netty too.”

“Let's concentrate on Jerry, shall we?”



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Tuesday, March 15, 2016

 

Role


-What’s it mean to be an intellectual like you?
Know a lot of stuff?

-That, of course, but have compiled it into a theory.

 Or many.

-Using it, then?

-I’d say.

-Identical to what the bullshitter does.

-I’d quarrel with identical!

-Does the intellectual know when he’s bullshitting?

-Well, he shouldn’t do it much, but yes, he’s
blissfully aware.

-With him, it’s an art then!

-Yes!

-And will an intellectual talk with the lower form
of bullshitter?

-Of course, but always standing for Truth, Justice,
and the University Way!

-Is that bullshit?

-Wonderfully!

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Monday, March 14, 2016

 

The Congressman and His Brother


-It's not that big a deal.

-Last year you screamed practically
C over C as to how it WAS!

-Times change.

-And what brought about...?

-Manna.

-Fell, did it?

-Copiously.

-And in the preferred form of cash?

-A thing of beauty!

-Yeah! In bushels! How can you live with yourself?

-Easier and easier.

-You're a disgrace to the family!

-Somebody has to be.

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Sunday, March 13, 2016

 

Star!


-How do I say hello to your Image?

-Same.

-I miss the real you, warts and all.

-That chaotic slut nearly killed me!
The Big Guys stepped in to save my
career.

-Now, it's Little Miss Perfect!

-Better than the petty little vileness
I was before.

-Not to me. Can you bend for old
times' sake?

-I'm allowed a transgression a year,
flying to a secret Caribbean isle as
Wanda Broadass.

-Why don't I bring the isle to you, or
at least a peninsula?

-Stop trying. Here's the key to the liquor
cabinet.

-Will you imbibe?

-Wouldn't be surprised.

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Saturday, March 12, 2016

 

Elegy


Re The Sum, or wherever you are, 
The Very Most Important Question

Asked to say a few last words for a man
of fewer medial ones.

Quiet wit came to mind, though the latter
word’s a stretch.

Quizzed some of his friends. Actually loud
in one instance proved steady he. Delightfully
bizarre in another.

Those two departures formed my remarks.

Why do people so want to hear of our
UNcharacteristic moments?

We’re proud, they’re tired, of all the others.

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Friday, March 11, 2016

 

The Quick and...


One of the Few Fables on the Subject

In Lovemaking, he the swiftest.

Ladies beg him to slow down, but
he refuses.

Finally, one matches him. Quick Ensene.

But it coarsens her, and she beats up
another woman.

He remains with her, for her compatibility
and toughness.

They have quite a mouth on them!

He tones it down, though, from the pulpit.

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Thursday, March 10, 2016

 

RNC


-The tribes had gotten vicious, so the Big Chief
took them to Taboo Hut.

-There they agreed which masks to wear,
which spears etc.?

-Reluctantly.

-Which dances?

-Especially!

-This will stop slaughter? By itself?

-Well, increments. First to get promises not to
taunt when a wildly-stomping performer
ready to pass out in ecstasy.

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Wednesday, March 09, 2016

 

Downbeat


Johnny Winter died
In Summer.

Donna Summer, though,
Spring. Not quite

there. Appropriate,
since Perfect Irony
squares life.

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Tuesday, March 08, 2016

 

The Defiant One


Her mother and he agreed. Extraction
of the cell phone for a week.

She cried. At the actual imposition, and
continuously during the sentence.

She got it back, and he, somewhat guilty,
agreed to take her and two girlfriends
to see The Bell Bottoms, a throwback
trio of acne-scarred guitarists and “singers.”

An explosion of light and smoke and noise
like car crashes. With girls like his daughter
screaming.

The trio he brought remained enraptured
for two weeks! Such a mooniness is
devoutly to be wished.

If only for its quiet.

Which lasted a while longer. Breathing space.

Then a mid morning call from the principal.

When he arrived, present with her and the two
other girls, Detective Sergeant Del Destry.

Who had stopped them sneaking from the
school, intent on joining the boy band for
its upstate tour.

The musicians knew nothing of the plan...
or so they said.

The Principal wanted them immediately back
in class, and would drive them home after,
conferring with each set of parents thereby.

Mr Ohner, the shop teacher, volunteered to stay
in the car with the ones or one remaining. Until
the final stop.

A well-organized plan to help shatter parents.

The detective ultimately walked him out.
The high school was at the foot of a long,
uphill avenue.

“What do you see when you look up there?”

“Busy street. Cars.”

“I see a parade of psychologists and social workers.”

“And an end result of...misery?”

“Why not try Sister Veronica?”

The retired nun ran a soup kitchen at St Luke’s.

His Cindy there? mused he. No way!

Way. She became indispensable.

Persuaded him and his wife to help out at the
Christmas Dinner.

He toasted Sister Veronica after, with cranberry juice. 


“We owe you!”

“You owe God.” Didn’t disagree.


















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Monday, March 07, 2016

 

The Learning Process


-I’m glad you asked. Saves time.


-I thought I’d ask.


-Good Republican? Easy.
Fuck the little guy!


-Been there! Done that!


-Yeah, but where’s the follow-through?


-How so?


-Shame the lazy bastard then!


-Must work on my ridicule!


-Good attitude! Well, like, dismissed!


-Many many thanks!


-Whoa? What’s this?


-Show respect.


-You call THAT a kowtow?

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Sunday, March 06, 2016

 

The Silly Equation


Lil and I the temporary engineering team.
She the creative, I, nuts and bolts.

We worked on a very minor, but nagging
problem.

An hour a day for discussions. We had
other things to do.

Retts stopped by and nodded at our
attempts. “Keep on it. Won’t change
the History of the World, but the
guys on the line will thank you.”

Then he said something that altered
everything.

“Well, I’ll see you in my dreams.”

When he left, Lil quipped “Let’s dream
about our tiny conundrum.”

Before you start with a sexual construct,
we’re both in secure relationships.

And, believe it or not, that’s the right word.
Secure. Odd one, but true.

Anyway, I went along with her. The one
ground rule was that we’d think about
the problem hour before bedtime,
later visualize the two of us solving it.

Pretty much a flop. I couldn’t remember
much of anything, and she just laughed.

Then one morning as I searched for Coffee
Mate, she remarked. “You at least came up
with a silly equation.”

I did I remember, but in a dream. We called
it that there.

I don’t know where all this could be
heading, but for the briefest, our dreams
entangled.

Well, I do. Management has submerged
us with other projects.

So, mutual dreams, if they occur, on hold.

Piddling problems often not resolved.

Due to work!

   

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Saturday, March 05, 2016

 

Short in a Matter


Sully and Gronk

-You're incompetent in the area!

-Add an s. Areas. I don't specialize.

-Agreed! But I'm interested in the one.

-Being an accountant. And narrow of mind.
Well, stop worrying. I get by financially.

-Never enough. The world swallows those who...!

-Look at me! Do I look swallowed?

-One step from the ditch.

-When I get there, will be the final one.

-Uh huh? Fatalism and Incompetence.
A defining pair.

-And what of grasping little you?

-Right with Money and God!

-The former is your God. No other need apply.

-No Irish need apply!...they said once.

-You're the Irisher. I'm just a stupid Polack.

-Thick as shit!

-I'll take anything to be thick as. Just so I'm
not thin as the drinks in here. Speaking of
which, did you ever think of buying one, or
indeed, any form of human charity?

-Not on the docket.

-Never chained to any nice custom?

-Perhaps if your girlfriend showed up.
Then the company would be worth it.

-She's due momentarily.

-I can't get over it. YOU'VE got a girlfriend!
And I, your superior in looks and intellect...

-Hit the bachelor floor when you pee. Women
teach us aim.

-You have no aims, none!

-Ah, but I have her! Worth her weight in your
desired gold!

-Then I should trade for one! I've got the...

-Ladies desire some smidgen of personality also.

-Where are you two...?

-The Flower Show.

-Fine! Aromas and pretty sights to forget
reality again!

-Wrong again. The flower show IS reality.
Thank whatever gods there be!

-Just another way to delay that inevitable
ditch.

-We're fighting it! And she's worth ten
times her weight in tigers!

-Can't be! You said gold.

-Both!

-Impossible!

-Come on along! Three's not a crowd mid
roses and zinnias.

-I'd rather die.

-And, we'll treat! To extract you, however
temporarily, from the prison of your thought.

-You said the magic word!

-Whatever costs nothing, you embrace. And!...
you'll meet a woman there, I guarantee.

-Yeah, but I'm realistic. Any young lady will
eventually be a small expense.

-Think of her that way. They love that!

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Friday, March 04, 2016

 

Hollow Loss


When the sawmill left the mountain,
joining the factories, most of the
houses were boarded up as their
inhabitants sought work in the city.

Through some miracle of God,
the squabbling legislature voted
a new tourist lodge. Five hundred jobs
when finished!

If you knew someone, or bought in,
or both.

My family did some picking and
singing, so we were signed up
as entertainers. Didn’t cost us much.

Since Grandpa told the corniest
jokes in Christendom, our act
evolved to a short musical:
Hillbilly Annals.

Because we got our meals also, went
awfully well.

Until Grandma wandered off.

Some of those black hollows too
treacherous to search, thus
never found.

After a month, Grandpa starting
saying in the act that a bear ate
her and immediately died.

Don’t get put off! That’s our humor.




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Thursday, March 03, 2016

 

Woman He Loved--a Story of Nazis


and Sacrifice

-He gave up the Throne for the woman he loved!

-Uh huh? Then Heil-Hitlered the runt moustache. The mildest Brit demeanor, but with Fascist intention.

-Stow the vicious Politics and remain with Love! Makes the World go round! Ah!

-No way!

-What does then?

-Incompetence!

-British or American form?

-There will always be a Dingland!

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Wednesday, March 02, 2016

 

The Perils of Social Engineering


Awake simultaneously. And shocked!

“How much did I drink?”

“Well, nothing here.”

“I guess I should apologize.”

“Probably not. Nothing to do with you,”
whispers she. “That’s what I guess.”

She takes her cell from under her pillow.
Goes to the bathroom. Certainly not a
bad body, he is deciding.

Hear murmurs when she reaches THE BUREAU.

“Uh huh.  Yes. All right then.” He gathers only
this conclusion as she opens the door.

“My Sailor was sent to your Eula.”

They introduce themselves. “The Naked
Introduction,” she muses, “I’m not used
to such.”

“Nor I. Let me assure you!”

“Well...she’ll have nothing to complain of in
the one area!”

“I...see.”

“Oops! A sensitive one. Look at that FACE!
I don’t mean that you...!  I mean, WOW, like,
are you...CREATIVE!”

“Thank you. I try. Uh, where are my clothes?”

“They took them. And all mine. Fresh ones will
be here in two hours. Then a car takes us
to Department of New Couples.”

“There to nod to endless horseshit?”

“They try. Like us.”

“I don’t know how much trying I got left!”

“Oh? I’d say we both hold wonderful promise!
But right now, I make terrific eggs!”

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Tuesday, March 01, 2016

 

Fixer


In Conversation and Fable

-You like to make phonecalls. Straighten the whole
world by wire or cell!

-My skill. And, modestly, Art.

-Don’t make that one, Picasso! Fair warning!

He did. Eventually going to the bureau where they
had attempted to remedy his plight...and engineered,
thereby, the greatest clusterfuck in the history of government.

Of Mankind? Top hundred.

He emerged. Walked past his car to the high road.

Cops picked up there, babbling.

After a month in Bide-a-Bit:

-I’m surprised you didn’t wave your dick too.

-I lack imagination.

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