it was nica's dream that cyborg return, but of course, nica was a weird-o. i don't mean to blow her an ill wind, but she always had a hard time deciphering the message. once, she even exclaimed it's you or no one, but what else can you do, at the end of a love affair? in the summertime, she told me there will never be another you, and i'm sure she believed it body and soul. but alas, it was too late for this show. i suppose one can always try a little tenderness and take it nice and easy, but nevertheless, i would rather just dream, although the dream differs from nica's.
i am sure you are thinking this blog is ok, "but not for me." well, listen porgy, i am doing the bess i can, and it ain't neccesarily so that i can do better. so, if you don't like it, there's a boat that's leaving soon for new york, and if you don't go now, it will be gone, gone, gone. by george, that was clever. in fact, s'wonderful. yeah, i know you think i've got plenty of nothing, but i find this to be a swingin affair, and i would rather travel down a lonesome road from this moment on, than to alter my words to zoot suit you, sims. no one ever tells you, but you are an arrogant stiff, night and day, and you will be until stars fall on alabama. well, i guess i'll have to change my plan and write about something else. oh yeah, i already did. damn, i got it bad and that ain't good.
amusing ourselves to death is an ill book that makes me sick just reading it, and yet, it is just what the doctor ordered. in fact, i have no idea what the doctor ordered, as i was not in the restaurant at the time, although my guess is that he got a hot dog. is a hot dog angry? man, what a hot dog! so, pick up "amusing ourselves to death; pubic intercourse in the age of show business" today! don't wait. whip out the only id you need, and get to it this second! but yeah, i dig mr. postman maybe i'll even write a new song about him.
bill, your shirt has a holman! aw lou, levy alone! i hope my west coast readers dig this silly jazz. hey, we can't all be on the atlantic. without a dowd in my mind, i would engineer it so that we all lived closer together. i don't have the pacific details, so i am going to stop there, and pepper you with more art, but in a different vein, since art used up all of his veins. well, i guess he figured it was worth a shot. well, i suppose the straight life is not for everyone. if they asked me i could write a book. i could also wrong a book. it depends on the book.
i had an exterminator come and get rid of all my max roach records. i was blue till seven, but eventually, i realized that i did the right thing. and then, i sat down to the computer to do the write thing. naomi, oh how i want to cry wolf, and to end my blogging career, but that would mean the end of america, and so, i must carey on, jim. yes, the blog is my ace in the hole. even jesse the body ventura thinks so, though i wish he would mind his own business, for his feelings don't govern me. for you see, i am an independent, and though i may be green at this, it's my party david, and i'll eat corn on the cobb if i want to. hey, as long as i produce in my direct style, i'll be ok.
many people don't realize that the song strange fruit was really about an unusual homosexual. leave it to me to set the record straight. if only marvin gaye had sung strange fruit, but that bum could not get off the elton john long enough to do it.
the phrase "do it" reminds me of my first day as a sub in the somerville school system. i was working as a substitute aide in a special ed class. suddenly, out of the blue, a young black kid, maybe 12 years old, started yelling "do it do it do it do it do it!!!" the teacher sent him out of the room. about 10 minutes later, he was allowed to return. a couple of minutes after returning, he raised his hand. when called upon, he yelled out "do it do it do it do it do it!!!" and i thought, as i have often felt since, "what the hell am i doing here?" as i repressed the urge to laugh, for laughing would only "encouage him." and of course, the last thing we want to do is encourage the creativity and individuality of our young. or, of our middle aged and elderly for that matter.
i don't really have an ending for this blog.
1 comment:
Regarding the abortion debate, I tend to think that life starts when a child develops irony.
The hope of the human race is that we will learn to disagree without believing in anything.
Only brothers could hate each other the way Arabs and Jews do.
The frugal man in a time of prosperity is as wise as he is despised.
When I hear someone say “I’ll pray for you,” I know nothing will get done.
The highest purpose of gun ownership is to shoot back at governments.
It’s almost a certainty today that to be anti-United States is to be pro-American.
The Internet and portable phones have made waste efficient.
The ubiquity of the belief in God is proof only that a lot of people can agree to be wrong.
Priests and judges both wear black robes and they’ll both fuck your children in the ass when you’re not looking.
In the United States, echolalia is called debate.
The wildest law-breaking is usually that done in the name of God and country.
When I hear the American justice system pronounce a man guilty, I will wager on his innocence.
I trust governments only when I am certain they are lying.
The brain-damaging effects of cellphone radiation explains a lot of conversation today.
The more people congregate in a place, the less one finds to like.
Why aren’t those who are pro-choice also pro-abortion?
The United States as currently configured must end if America is to survive.
Whenever I see a crowd gathered, I know nothing worth watching is happening.
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