paper or plastic?

...and to think I almost forgot what today is. Why it's the one month anniversary of my retirement...that much ballyhooed event that launched me off the books.

lancing a blister in the dark

It's just simply amazing to me that anybody thinks the way they do. I mean really. "What the fuck?" you may ask and I would tell you in great detail if I knew the answers to that and other burning questions but I don't and I can only speculate and cringe and rage at the Stupids with their little Pinheads. I don't have any idea what it is I'm talking about and I'm trying to keep it that way but one thing is for sure, killing for peace is like fucking for virginity. They are both mutually exclusive and the cost of this adventure we are currently engaged in has already been discussed in far greater circles than the average browser will discuss here and nobody is sacrificing for the effort except the families of the dead now rotting and all they can do is weep so let's keep it that way.
There was no threat. There is no plot to invade America. There was only Katrina and her sister Rita and the boys over in the Corps of Engineers whose funding was cut off because there aint no percentages in the weather and George. Poor inarticulate George. Explosions and their body counts are far more predictable so lets practice elsewhere shall we?
Heat and auditory weapons that could be deployed and end the fighting overnight are kept back because why? Because it puts too much policy out of a job. Warfare is human nature as is profiteering from the vast expanse of destruction.

the old mousefart on a cotton ball trick

... so as i was sayin' yeah yeah i'll get used to this aural trespassing and carry on like i own de' place right, know what i'm sayin? just like livin under the Union Pacific trestle next to I-10 holmz no biggie right? get used to it. but...... i mean i still protest it aint what i signed on for says right here and it's a pisser know what i mean? and it aint asking too much to ask you to please shut the fuck up but what the hell you gonna do about it anyway? i ask ya. it's just a fucking pisser and that's just the way it fucking is anymore. fucking pisser...
shit! whaacher gonna do...

...but living out here immaculate in East Jesus de Cortez By the Bay has it's moments that eventually add up to it's worth all this for all that as long as all that don't kill us and more. but then it wouldn't matter anyway would it seeins how we'd be all dead 'n all so it must be worth it for the moment anyway right? that's all i'm sayin's all.

forest for the tree

So I'm sitting here thinking, man we bought this place, this little 10 acre slice of paradise 21 years ago and blew the doors off the pumpkins, glowed in the dark, laid down the law and broke it and generally hurt our 2 brain cells for years until the public started encroaching and we downsized our appreciation for Nature's Bounty so as not to embarrass ourselves and besides all that, we were getting older and wiser and it was time to slow down anyway and we wanted to not offend anybody. Well, why is it nobody else respects their neighbors and let's their animals and children careen out of control without a thought to the consequences? I am feeling cramped and crowded and aurally trespassed upon and there's nothing I can do about it except move but with all the blood sweat and tears that I poured into this place, I cannot and now I'm trapped in my own device. This wasn't how retirement was supposed to play out.
But in spite of all that...

The Gospel according to Moondog

...perchance to dream a Dream of a Thousand Castles in the Bold Aire, each with a Thousand Windows, opened by unseen hands and illuminating Satan's Wretched Creatures of the Dawn sprawled across the lawn spawned in Pathos and doomed to loathsome bedevilment Begone begone thy foul and wretched excess, thy wanton and vile excrement is upon thine heart, why doth thou torment so?

...make fast thyself to the Wings of Light and cast away thy Earthly bonds, to soar upon the Solar Breeze, breathless and coy...

...we are Prisoners of our own Design, reigning over a desolate landscape of broken Dreams and pitiful Aspirations. We plunder our childhood and awaken at Death's Door wondering of the Child we were and beholding a frail and gaunt form that can no longer see the Innocence and Beauty. It is but a short journey from the forceps to the stone, fraught with Horror and unspeakable Terror. Why then must we be left to such impotent devices floundering like carp?

...ah yes, to slumber and dream the Dream of the Dead. To awaken renewed, at one with the ties that bind as The Heart is to the Hunter, home from the hill home from the sea...

...so verily I say unto thee Grasshopper, so thy may know and see thy Path. Go forth into the Sweet Night and tread softly upon it's still waters. Open thine eyes and thy will see what thy need is all around thee and what thy want thy cannot have. If thy sow Ice, thy shall harvest Wind. Strive to shed thy Morbid Concerns and thy will find thyself Righteous and Wholesome.

Verily...