Sunday, April 03, 2022
Sen
So & So
from Such & Such
gets poured into hotel's limo.
Smashed & High
he shrieks patriot-drivel
& racy ditties.
Back at the Bash
Fr K zips up PANTHER
basketball jacket,
just far enough
so Roman
Collar still shows.
“35 years in Church,
wouldn’t change a thing!”
Meantime, Sen poured from
limo, carried to his “complimentary” suite.
Week later he votes for war.
2 weeks after that in Booze-Junk Rehab: “VOTE REPUB,
WAR! GIVE PUSSY DEMS NOTHIN! So baby or 2 dies?
Snifflers should exit public life!”
It’s TALK! He doesn’t mean it.
Soul Singers entertain at Bide-a-Bit the following Friday.
He won't go.
Labels: Catholic, Church, Democrat, politics, rehab, Republican
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
“Bovine Ruth”
When the nickname came back to
her, she was displeased in her
special, and sweet, way.
"Intended to ridicule and diminish"
was the State's burden as it brought
charges without her asking.
Luncie's misfortune proved the very
rambling form of Maximum Maxine Rucks,
The Judge From Hell!
He'd have twenty-one years to think of
his motives in embarrassing pretty Ruth.
You'd think he'd spend them complaining
about Political Correctness to his fellow Righties.
Instead he became a scholar of cows, seeing the
docile Ruth as a sort of goddess.
The cult spread in Hixson Penetentiary,
culminating in three years with a special
invitation to the wronged Ruth to attend
a picnic of "The Bovine Worshipful Cult."
It so impressed her: the dappled men
reciting bovine facts as to digestion, that
she forgave Luncie. The Warden sent heavily-
iced Cinnamon Rolls!
Other wardens, especially of fractious prisons,
invited Luncie to start chapters of the cult.
Soon he was coordinating the Eastern United
States and Puerto Rico. Traveling with a guard,
then not.
When he was paroled eight years in, he wouldn't
leave. The Warden fitted out a studio apartment
and office in an abandoned cell block and
named him Social Director.
Many more prisons joined in now, the West and
difficult South being swept up. Nowhere that
the saintly Ruth--newly named The Bovine Virgin--
didn't travel that rose petals weren't strewn
in her path.
Bubba Hocks of the Georgia System: “That shit
he sells, he’s the fucking rehab genius!”
Labels: bovine, cow, cult, digestion, Political Correctness, prison, rehab, scholarship
Monday, March 23, 2015
The Word
“We're both ragtag fundamentalist preachers,
or act the parts. He does drunks and addicts,
and I, Scarlet Women!
The Mega Church hires us to travel around to
rural churches and scare the Devil’s own shit
outa everybody.
Hey! We really go fire-and-brimstone! Everybody
loves it! Well, not the particular objects. They end
up trembling.
It's a real partnership. I research for him
and he for I. Say a guy owns a little hardware
store? Three rehabs, and slumbers in gutters.
Customers don't have a clue, so, you know:
Truth sets everybody free! My Partner gives the
shoddy bio from the pulpit as a fiery warning
to us all. The devil being the manufacturer of
all such addictive crap! And toxic secrets.
He chooses for me a typical pink pretty. Butter
wouldn't melt in her pursy mouth! Could be a
juicy abortion back there, though. Or whatever.
Well, THAT’s hitting the lottery!
Probably just the usual carnality with associated lies.
At any rate, when I'm through with her, she's quivering
Jello on the floor, that Scarlet Woman!
I say it like it's fun, but it's damn hard work too!
Good? Are we actually doing...?
Ultimate questions left for Headquarters! We serve!
Hey! Degrees from two halfass Bible “Colleges?”--
and I majored in Basketball?
Two Good Ole Boys made good, if you ask me!”
Labels: Abortion, addiction, Bible, bible thumpers, carnal, Fundamentalism, good ole boys, mega church, preaching, rehab, Scarlet Woman, sin
