February 23, 2018

So you know, political ads filled with Republican Evangelism with soon start to appear, so just remember what you are looking at… Exodus 33: 17-34



The Town of This Many Years Old

February 22, 2018

“I am from the town of this-many-years-old,” Mr. Binger claimed. “I have a friend who will eat things you wouldn’t put in a dog’s butt.”

“Now, I am not advocating inserting anything into any dog’s anus, I’m saying, strange things come from a dog’s butt. People put them there… suppositories, colonoscopy scopes; ordinary stuff, I suppose.”

“Let’s see what we have here,” Mr. Binger said producing a paisley carpet bag, there on stage. From which, the short man produces a miniaturized model of an airplane, a hollow ping pong ball and a plastic army figure, among other unrelated small objects.

“All this stuff came from dog butts.”

Mr. Binger says as if he changes his mind, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“What does my friend eat?” he asked an invisible audience.

“Well,” he claimed and gestures at the miscellany before him on the floor.

“I would never put this stuff in my mouth,” Mr. Binger iterated. “I guess a dog would. My friend did; he would after it came out of a canine.”

“But, we’re not talking about him.”

“I guess these can things look edible, but I’ve never asked. It’s not something I wonder about. I think it’s all about a mental illness called coprophilia.”

Mr. Binger interrupts himself. “That’s what it’s called in the DSM-IV, that’s a manual of mental disorders; Psychiatrists use it. Someone educated in the audience will inevitably say, ‘Uh-huh, the disorder is called something different, and there is now a DSM-V’.”

“I don’t think dogs know. I mean, do dogs know what food looks like, or do they swallow anything that looks pretty? Do they consume the visual arts? It is probable.”

“Maybe they think an open can of beef stew looks like the Mona Lisa.”

“They could believe they’re giving a precious little thing a home. It won’t crawl up there by itself, so our gregarious little companion must first gulp it down.”

“And that would be the end of that, until it came back around.”


You Know What Hell Sounds Like

February 13, 2018
“You know what hell sounds like,

Standing this far off, this far away?”

“It sounds like a distant train whistle.

Hell sounds like that horn blown from miles up the track.”

“Except, the whistle never stops,

It’s never interrupted.”

“And you know something is wrong.”

“It’s always coming.”


– Mr. Binger



Fondness of Monsters

February 2, 2018

Because I’m someone with a life-long fondness for monsters, I imagine someone might ask, “Why, then, do you like ordinary sparrows?”

“Well,” I tell my imaginary inquirer, “I like when they come for breakfast, and they wait for me on the stairs all bunched together.”

I know the birds instinctively approach big creatures in groups. They try to look big, but mine come together to no larger than a cat sprawled upon a stairwell – a feathered cat with a dozen beady eyes and half as many sharp beaks. It’s adorable.



There’s A Sign Up Ahead…

February 2, 2018

Sometimes, I feel displaced – out-of-sync. It’s that one strange goose pimple science fiction television shows like Twilight Zone tried to illustrate for viewers.

I often fear it is because I lost weeks of memory due to a chemically induced coma over a decade ago, then I sadly accept, “Maybe, I’m just old.”



Reflection Upon 50

February 1, 2018

In an unguarded occasion, I reflect upon my selfish achievements at the age of 50

1. I am alive! Seriously, I tend to jump before I look only because I get bored.
2. I still have my hair, and that was an anxious fear.
3. I’m not fat! Sure, I’m twenty pounds overweight, but I’m so happy I can still feel firm abs under my skin. Some guys walk around their whole fat lives carrying extra weight like a tumorous dead baby.
4. I am in perfect health, tremendous, believe me – perfect BP, pulse, no diseases nor cancers, etc.
5. I’m not stuck in my hometown. Sure, I don’t go anywhere, but its not like there is nowhere to go.
6. I have a hybrid vehicle, but thanks to the oil industry, that’s as far into the future I’ll ever live.
7. YouTube – there have been so, so many musical artists, new and old, that I discovered through videos (I grew up on original MTV, so seeing the artist or some visual interpretation makes all the difference to me. It never matters how they look, only that I see them).
8. Marijuana – it’s not like alcohol, nor narcotics, but rather an anti-depressant without the suicidal-thoughts side affect.
9. Writing. It comes just as my near sight goes, but in my stories, I can finish the narratives I began with my paintings and drawings.
10. I live in the endless summer of Southern California. Climate change has raised the temperature, but I do like hot days (I don’t have the insulation for temperatures below freezing, never have. I suffered throughout winters in Wisconsin skeletally thin).

And there is grief

1. Jowls, yeah, I’ve always had a weak chin, but age has really shown how ruthless it can be.
2. Dead friends and family – time has healed nothing.
3. Faith in others, as much as I’ve disappointed everyone, you have all let me down. C’est la vie, believe in yourself.
4. No Apocalypse, no god, nor angels, nor tiny asexual faeries with strong heterosexual tendencies.
5. Arthritis in my fingers and knees – the constant swelling is probably because those joints are overworked, but they’re not getting better with rest, not anymore.
6. Art is dead, an illusion created by the wealthy before they began pouring their wealth into politics.
7. America is an oligarchy, justice is tentative.
8. Kids are dumber, but not because they lack broad spectrums of fact, but rather they don’t know HOW to think. There is something called the scientific method that, like it or not, was created by a man. Grow up (as in “Get more diverse, you bore me, kids”).
9. Social Justice Warriors, radical feminists, Republicans, Democrats…
10. The one-sided class war waged against the middle class by the 1% and the corporations of one overpaid employee.



Princess and the Pee

January 30, 2018

Imagine President Trump has a new game show in the White House. He calls the televised production, ‘Princess and the Pea’. Everyone in his cabinet must participate – it’s a purity test. You see, Republicans love their purity tests (they tell us). The President of the United States describes his idea to the American people in a recorded message. “How it goes…”

“Get a hundred mattresses, nice, beautiful foam mattresses. Unbelievable.”

“Put those mattresses, all of them, on top of an illegal immigrant – a Middle Eastern refugee would be nice, but a Mexican will do. They come in the same colors. Actually, anybody anywhere south of the border is good. Stop at Brazil. I have friends in Brazil.”

“Once you get all those mattresses on top of the pea, I call it, the illegal immigrant, crawl on top. Get up there, Sarah.”

The president shouts up to his press secretary. “Lie down.”

He then whispers to the camera. “She’s good at this, I think she’ll be good.”

“If she can’t fall asleep because she feels an illegal immigrant is under her bed, she wins. She’s a real Republican.”

“You know who I think will know?” the president pondered aloud. “Stephen Miller will know, he’s good at this. He says he can smell them.”

“You know what? I believe him. I think he can. We, me and my team and I, we made him put his dirty underwear over his head and close his eyes and he could still point at Ben.”



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