Saturday, December 30, 2006

help me storm the castle walls

we will use the rubble as money
things always go as planned

you're part of the trick

Friday, December 29, 2006

start of something, start something


RIP James Brown

I heard a number of news stories reporting James Brown's death. What I learned from many of these reports was the Godfather of Soul apparently battled many demons in his time with us. This was something I would have liked to have heard more about while he was still alive. Sadly, all I can do is imagine. Artist's rendering:

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Things to Blame it On Besides the Rain

The air
Stubby fingers, webbed toes
Atmospheric pressure
Not properly understanding the rules of Russian roulette

Proof that Chinese Restaurants Want to Teach you Chinese in Fortune Cookies to Open More Chinese Restaurants

Come in, please: Qing jin
Sit down, please: Qing zuo
Order today's special, please: Qing yào cài jīn tiān tè chǎn
Stop crying, please: Qing chuò wā wā
No credit cards, please: Qing qiè wù xìn yòng kǎ
You are handsome/full of honor, eat this please: Qing chuài cǐ, nín shì xiù/zhēng guāng
Tell your friends about us, please: Qing gào yǒu péng
Come back real soon, you hear, please: Qing fǎn zhè lǐ, tīng
That is not blood, please: Qing ěr fú miè
You love Chinese food, please: Qing nǐ zhōng cān
I would like to secure a bank loan to open a Chinese Restaurant, please: Qing yù yào chēng dài qǐ ā zhōng fàn diàn

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Dada killed the radio star

A Two-fer

I sure hope I'm mistaken, because the last time something drifted up to the lost Greek Heavens, the Gods were not amused.

"One more, and we will open a store," Zeus boomed atop Mount Olympus. He meant business. And apparently would go into business.

And it's so like a God to benefit from the suffering from the comman man. He only gave us these frisbees so we would know the sorrow when they were gone. They'd float higher and higher each time, directly proportional to the fun we were having that gray summer day, until they strayed too close to the clouds. It went up, over, and out.

"You know what, Zeus?" My best friend Skip challenged, "You go ahead and open your store. No one's going to shop there because we'll tell them all you're a Commie. Pinko scum!"

I'm not sure why, but the next 18 hours were filled with the torrential downpour of sheets of rain and ice. Although rain and ice are made of water; this precipitation was made of blood and car exhaust.

"Great, thanks Skip." I said sardonically. "Now it smells like blood and car exhaust. I'm pretty sure that's what is staining my 1970's bell bottoms and 'The Boss' T-shirt."

"Shh, shh, shh..." Skip motioned with his hand. "Do you hear that?"

There was nothing but silence.

"Exactly." Skip's mind hummed along like a perpetual motion machine. "With all this apocalyptic mumbo jumbo, no ones in the mood to buy stolen frisbees."

He was right. There was no sound of cash registers, cash machines, or cash being taken from divine wallets. All I heard was blood and car exhaust coming back to earth. And it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

"And besides, we can open a blood and car exhaust store now," Skip said.

Monday, December 25, 2006

From the desk of my table, let's chair this discussion. Paperweight!

can i borrow $20

There was no Christmas

There was no Christmas tree in the Bible.

There was no slashing of prices in the Bible.

There was no tinsel in the Bible.

There was no aerosol snow in the Bible.

There were no stockings or fireplaces in the Bible.

There was no Yule log in the Bible.

There was no fruitcake in the Bible.

There was no figgy pudding in the Bible.

There was no man made of snow in the Bible.

There was no weeping tunnel, no crying viaducts, nor emotionally disturbed passageways in the Bible.

There was no mistletoe in the Bible, but rather a series of awesome fauna (some even talked!).

There was no Santa Claus in the Bible.

There were no “Secret Santas” in the Bible.

There were no department stores in operation year round counting on the Christmas season to get into the black in the Bible.

There certainly were no overweight men masquerading as magical bearded ones in red suits with white trim, listening patiently to minors demands for overpriced toys.

There was no Christmas goose in the Bible; but there were doves, chickens, eagles, ravens, peacocks, hawks, owls, quails, bitterns, cormorants, cranes, crows, cuckoos, falcons, gledes, herons, hoopoes, kites, lapwings, nighthakws, ospreys, ossifrages, ostriches, partridges, pelicans, pigeons, sparrows, storks, swallows, swans, turtledoves, and vultures. (This tradition was probably started by Charles Dickens in A Christmas Carol, as a method to employ more words than were necessary to further the narrative. ie, An old man wakes from an ether induced vision including three separate apparitions, not knowing which day it was, and commands a strange young boy to run into the town square and get a Christmas goose. The boy, terrified, chose not to challenge. This is most likely how most modern traditions have started)

There were no “Merry Christmases” in the Bible. People were just fine having their usual “nice days” in the Bible, as people considered themselves lucky not to be crucified, be caught in the plague, or find their drinking water mysteriously turned to wine.

There were no Christmas carols, carolers, or singers in the Bible. Everyone had lousy voices back then which is why there was only a written account and no book on wax cylinder or opera based on the Bible. Their penmanship was adequate at best.

when i died they said to keep on living, when i was out of money they said to keep on giving

I've Been Robbed Blind And Talked Deaf

You only did it because you thought I'd do the same.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Everyone Come Out/spinning cabinets/kick that rabbit right in two/can you talk about the country i'm from in the same language. one i can understand?

Everyone comes out of the woodwork with their hands open. They seek shavings, they seek saving. I have nothing to offer them but the same played out old trick I've done for years as a consequence of my breathing. Sorry if you're looking for something new. It's just plain old me. And that wasn't enough for ages.

I raise what little money I can to send down the sinkhole the rest of life it can't live up and it's just a run on sentence wandering to find a meaning.

I've got a duck billed platypus to pay. He's waiting down by the docks and I'm guessing the nerve I'm on is his last. I slap hands to while away the time, but the sands have shifted. My allergies are in high alert mode. Can a light house spot the invisible man? When the calls are too close to make, who will answer the phone? Poppycock, slap dash answers.

The MD was empty, the concept on an unsound structure. The building codes were downloaded from the Internet. He turned his mind off in the ICU and smoked a verbal cigarette. He ate ashes as the patient spat vitriol (new: Vitriol from Calvin Klein) from an unchecked liver spot over his third eye's mind's dirty mouth.

Different hands on the same arms. That creek goes somewhere, but I'm not sure. I won't or can't say, and it no longer matters. The raft we made out of discarded rib cages no longer comforts me in the same way. Yes, it is comfortable, but it is aesthetically displeasing. I've got to eat my friends just to survive, and that's a surefire way to make some enemies. But I'm not dropping names, I'm dropping friends into a tasty bucket. What a shitstorm I'll catch if we survive. But I'm not naming names. I will make a great cannibal recipe book. Enjoy the monogrammed whiplash collar. I'm eating a collarbone.
The widow piqued long ago. She figured when he ran out of places to hide, he'd find what he was looking for. But it's doubtful this was it.

His ghost was so lazy; it was the least he could do after kicking off this mortal coil to ship off to another dimension. Nope. In death, much like life, he still hung around his usual haunts. He'd laze about on the couch after waking up on it. He'd watch TV, those awful daytime shows nobody but housewives and male ghosts get suckered into watching slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. Although admittedly, he did eat far less snack foods now that he was no longer among the living.

That tends to happen.

Different hands on the same arms. That creek goes somewhere, but I'm not sure. I won't or can't say, and it no longer matters. The raft we made out of discarded rib cages no longer comforts me in the same way. Yes, it is comfortable, but it is aesthetically displeasing. I've got to eat my friends just to survive, and that's a surefire way to make some enemies. But I'm not dropping names, I'm dropping friends into a tasty bucket. What a shitstorm I'll catch if we survive. But I'm not naming names. I will make a great cannibal recipe book. Enjoy the monogrammed whiplash collar. I'm eating a collarbone.

Anyway, if you count to 10 with me, that's all the time I'd need to sneak away.

Your Gag Reflex Can Be Used As A Flotation Device!

Saturday, December 23, 2006

May Your Venom Bite Kill You Quickly, Painlessly! XO!

Holiday Wishes from the Christmas Cobra!

Remember: that rattling in your present may be the Xmas Rattler. Happy Holidaze!!

Friday, December 22, 2006

year of the bore

I don't care about survival.
I do care about the undead.

people love the new yorker 20

Thursday, December 21, 2006

people love the new yorker 19

Gotta keep the brain cells from leaking out.

Gotta keep the customer satisfied.
Gotta keep the employed unfulfilled.
Gotta keep at the bottom of the barrel to scrape your way to the top.
Gotta keep the ladder rickety so no one's sure when they're coming down, but they will.
Gotta keep a living will so everyone knows who gets your stuff when you croak.
Gotta keep the frogs on their lily pads so nature knows its place.
Gotta keep the coffee down.
Gotta keep oxygen consumption up.
Gotta keep the trees out of the woods.
Gotta keep the trees from knowing the forest from itself.
Gotta keep on keeping on.
Gotta keep the hangman twisting in the wind.
Gotta keep the Great Lakes full of sand.
Gotta keep the Panama Canal in its proper place.
Gotta keep the bow tie in my collar.
Gotta keep the bow tow in my shoes.
Gotta keep the purse strings nice and loose.
Gotta keep the player piano playing itself for a fool.
Gotta keep the monkeys swinging on the vine.
Gotta keep the operater waiting on the line.
Gotta keep the soulless journey to JC Penneys.
Gotta keep my spelling in check.
Gotta keep the dynamite off my back.
Gotta keep the sweat in a jar properly labelled next to my feces.
Gotta keep the doors shut and the windows swinging.
Gotta keep the inside from getting out too much.
Gotta keep the human liver punished for things it didn't do.
Gotta keep the train on the tracks.
Gotta keep my hair shining with the proper luster and bounce.
Gotta keep the fan club tracking the wind.
Gotta keep my toe nails split lickety.
Gotta keep the dictionary abridged.
Gotta keep the burning bridges flaming.
Gotta rise for the National Anthem.


set me up for the fall
i'm climbing up a stolen ladder
placing the stars in the skies, ornaments
planted a good crop of dirt
pushed the trees around all day and felt like a man
next to the skin on display
it was an empty hall
and an empty gesture
but it got the green grass growin
the cool wind blowin
i gave the sun it's favorite pair of glasses
he got moon burnt now i got stuck with the bill
mess with the cat you get the claws
this car has viper
pine cones in a tin can
beep beep microwave's done
i got your back

spelling better check itself, less it mess itself

I'm getting smarter everyday! Not just with my brain, but with my whole body!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Trees keep it on

If you wanna help me scratch the surface like a lotto ticket I'll be waiting in the back seat.
Crack a window to my point of view.
Rocks skipping on the lake to Antarctica.
It's colder than it seems but the language we spoke was the same.
Soaking rocks in the water
Uncrinkling the wrinkles.
Shaking free.
Three lemons means you win.
You won.
Now I'm prickled tink.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Welcome to the Hotel, California

Are you humming along, or coming along nicely? You should have done yourself a favor and made a new mix tape.

Our schedules miraculously aligned, the solar eclipse silhouetted my genuine face of astonishment. This is my happy face.

The sofa burned one out for old times sake. Now there's linoleum all over the floor.

Thanks for stopping by. Here's the door. I believe it knows your name, I thought I did, but you changed your face like the sands of time. Here's my first impression; you can have it back.

Gotta go. I'm back where I came from. Where are you?

Monday, December 18, 2006

Foot prints on my back bone

You're free to go but forced to leave.
You can't be sure if you're seeing double or just the same thing over and over again.
The cat had your tongue but you've got it back and you're just wasting it.
You're a glass-is-full kind of guy when it's clearly a mug.
You can't be sure if the world doesn't disappear when you're not looking.
The dog had it's day but you got it back and you're just wasting it.

In your dreams you dream about the day you just had.
In your days you daydream about the dream you had the night before.
Well, so what if the world disappeared.
No one was sure it was there in the first place.
You lost that recipe, they closed McArthur Park.
You're back in the land of your family, but they've all moved on.

You checked into a vacant hotel, and they treat you like some kind of royalty.
You're a real blue blooded bald headed asshole.
But they treat you to complimentary icy stares.
The shower doesn't work right but isn't that the point of travel.
The water drains the same way no matter which way you stare at it.
No matter how the cookie crumbles, someone's gonna go hungry.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

ready or not, you're running late already

Here's an alphabetical list of food I've eaten in my life:
Ding Dong
Eskimo Wallpaper
Fatsucka Xylophones
Hospital Food
Insecure Edible Suspenders
Joker's Hi High School Cafeteria Food
Kleptomania Flakes
Lizards, So many Lizards
Moo moo cow
No no cow
Open faced sandwiches
Quail eggs
Respectable Members of My Community
Some Tasty, Tasty Food
Tarantula Ovaries
Umbrellas, Deep-Fried
Viscous Syrup
Xenophobic Hot Peppers
Zebra Finch Cartel Sass

No Wonder I'm So Full Of It!!!

Weather Forecast for the Post Apocalypse

Gray today, with the last remaining trees to shed their husks of leaves by nightfall. Of course, nightfall is all day around these parts since the sun exploded and inflicted a nuclear winter out in Hot-lanta, which we continue to call for posterity's sake. Acid rain tonight, with a barrage of battery acid and a front of animal fur coming in from the east. If you're going out, wear those parkas!


staring back in amazement

Can you help me build some houses for ghosts?

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Good going bad being

Coming out of no where, it was easy to see it coming. The hallucinations proved more reliable than the store bought compass.

Reaching into the jar of cigarettes, the astigmatism percolated with anticipation. The traffic lights jammed over an open high way and the fans clapped along.

The fender benders lined the teeth of every young boy and girl in the world. Grown ups were too busy, and the zombies were indifferent as they often are.

Let's talk about our problems over some mochachino. Let's meet in the dead spot of my eye. Thanks for coming to my birthday party and telling me to grow up.

So good going, bad being.
-Mr. Credit

Friday, December 15, 2006

Buy some sweats ok? Ok.

Hey Hot Shot,

You've got a cold firearm and a ice cool stare. Sometimes I wonder if it's glaucoma or some other medical condition, and then I just remember that it's your disaffected look in the catalog. I wasn't going to order another pair of sweatpants, but that's the power of effective marketing. I pulled out my wallet and went straight to my computer -- the very one I'm typing this note on right now.

Of all my impulse purchases, I can feel in my heart that this is the most fulfilling one to date. I have not even received the navy blue ComphortWearever sweats with the ripcord for tightening, or as the ad reads "snuggening," which I know is not really a word but I was already sold.

I don't usually write these sorts of letters, and I guess that makes me that kind of person now. But you know what? My life already has begun to change in a variety of ways that I never thought possible.

For example, I became a little taller. Maybe it's because I leave the cave of a house I call my home on a regular, almost daily basis now. My posture has straightened out and it's as if my legs are carrying an Ionic column. You know what's on top? The priceless brain of a Ming Vase. Though my brain really hasn't been past down for generations, nor does it belong to a dynasty of import. That's what I shall do with my sweatpants.

To cut to the meat of the matter, I guess I should just come right out and say it: will you, after I pass, please look after these sweat pants? I know we won't have children together -- I'm not a deluded fan -- but these navy sweats match our respective eye colors to the hue. Please consider it deep in your heart before issuing off a knee jerk response letter.

I know how this looks.

Think of future generations,
Larry "Simon Diamond fan #49" Pezzle

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Now a word on breathing

I find the more I breathe,
the easier it gets. When I was
an infant it was pretty
hard. When I’m dead
breathing should be a lead
pipe cinch. Know what?
See you in my coffin.

I'll be the life of the party
at my funeral. If I talk too
much about death then
you're a robot because
I'll be there in the
afterlife soaked in afterbirth
working on improving my typing.
Do they have blogs in Heaven?

I hope not. If so, kill me now.

Dear Devil,

Stop podcasting your nightmares into my day dreams. Ho-hum, you know?


P.S. No one ever uses tire swings anymore. Read a fucking newspaper.

We're eating for two like it's going out of season

Let's trade hands down by the docks.
I've got these new joints made out of rope, it won't hurt one bit.
Come on, I promise you we'll ride the trailer tractor all afternoon.
You said we need to do more things together as friends, and I don't see why not.
My hands have been in places you don't know to know where you said.
Well you won't have to know, you'll just know.
A sense, memory deprivation, a spoon.

Let's trade legs down by the moon.
I've got these new robot legs, they're Y2k Complaining.
Come on, I promise you we'll ride the hover tractor all evening.
You said we need to get more air together as limb exchanging buddies, and it makes sense to us now.
My legs are long gone anyway, they're on loan from science.
Where to, who knows, you'll just know.
Legs running in the sand, a pair of twins conjoined, a buttered silver spoon.

Let's trade ideas down by the coffee shop.
I've got these really revolutionary ideas, they're cheaply xeroxed.
Come on, I promise you'll be riding high on my new ideas.
You said we need to get more ideas out in the open, and we need some revolutionaries.
My ideas are long gone, you won't know where they're stolen from.
Where from, in comics, I've read them a mile high.
The skyscraper starts in the ground, a player piano, and a mouth full of foam.

Let's trade ligaments down by the landmark.
I don't even know what they are, but they're yours to keep.
Come on, I promise I won't even miss them one bit.
You said we need to share to understand the spirit of each others circulatory systems, and I need some new blood around here.
My blood is recycled, you can have some eco-friendly blood.
From my brain to my toes, and back again in half a minute.
The calcium deposits, the shocking withdrawals, and the hydrogen is sky high in the nostrils of giants.

Let's trade each others shoes.
I don't even wear these shoes anymore, and I think they were yours.
Come on, I promise these aren't even the same size.
You said we need to stop exchanging things that aren't ours. This was yours.
My shoes were your shoes, you can have them back.
From my heart to your toes, you can wear your damn shoes again.
A tuxedo top, a lobster bib, and some sullen eyes in the potato.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Hard Times At The Coconut Cafe

Friday, December 5
Thanks to the biscotti craze at the neighboring eatery -- Cruller Emporium -- the Coconut Cafe has fallen on hard times. That means no more frilly toothpicks. No more saran wrap on the lawn chairs. No more cutting the coconuts in half. Indeed, these are grim days. This is the darkest shade humanity has known.

Jeffrey "The King" Sachz, a regular, was reduced to wearing his Hawaiian shirt at half mast. By this I mean he has actually lost enough weight that his mighty Redwood chest forest poked out over the top three buttons. He's actually lost weight. I know they say it's impossible to lose weight as it's the pull of gravity on your mass, and that mass is the only thing you can "lose." This is what you mean when you say someone "lost weight." But I'd venture to guess that he has not only lost weight but also mass, particularly in the brain region. How do I know? He was ranting over a Malibu Rum about how Jesus had several siblings and they played so wonderful games. And he said, "You know how I know? Because I was there."

It is not lost on me that brains are also called coconuts. Now that, I'd say, is crazy.

We're starting to shred reciepts.

the president was at an elton john concert when he hears cat stevens is trying to buy some ice cream and then he just gets mad

Dear Unnamed Assailant,

You hijacked my varmint. I did not even have enough time to take down your license plate, nor the registration number of my varmint. He was my favorite coyote, and now he is gone. I was hoping to turn him into a bicycle.

No my name isn't Andre and no I won't shut up.


Monday, December 11, 2006

Keep the lumbago thwarted

Dear Captain,

You're a total trip. Did you know that?


P.S. You no longer rock my world.

P.P.S. I took the sand from your beaches and they line my hour glasses. Anyway, running out of time.

P.P.P.S. My sunglasses are half full but I'm no optimist. The time is one a trick pony minus one.

He's Mr. Electric Fence

Hey Mr. Electric Fence,

I saw you sitting outside your home with a dorky haircut and your docked ears and could not help but feel sorry for you. Why did you watch me pass you by without a sense of anger?

Were you born spineless or was this a condition you acquired from having life shit on you time after time?

I guess I'm so full of questions for you because I've never seen anyone sitting out in the cold when a fireplace or central heating was within grasp.

Anyway I better get going. The wife's got a whole lamb in the fire place and we're going to skin it and use every part in our functional everyday lives. You know, family stuff. I won't keep you with my personal issues anymore.


Your Passerby

P.S. Don't call me the beeswax gatherer. That's not my name anymore.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

people love the new yorker 18

New! Mattresses for bears! (RRR)

What's up?
What you doing?
What're you doing tomorrow?
What about In Living Color?
What about Jim Carrey?
What's up cake?
What's up pie?
What's up cheese burger?
What've you got on?
What you got on your teeth and braids?
Nothing teeth. Nothing braids.
What's up Saturday Night Live?
Nothing nothing nothing.
What's up MadTV?
Nothing nothing nothing.
What's up mints?
What's up shaving cream?
What's up Triple H?
What's up General Hospital?
What's so funny?

Friday, December 08, 2006

fingers met the toes then it was all over

circumstance in a Chinese finger trap
read the manual and you better cheat
leaping lizards!!!

Thursday, December 07, 2006

kiss my tacos

hey you teeth I flushed down the toilet
where'd ya all go?
I'm sorry it didn't work out in the end
but there is no end the calendars keep changing
and we keep living the same day day after day
did you meet some rats?
you said you always wanted to do some travelling
and I guess it's some kind of sick joke
the punch line got lost in the mail
now you're lost in the sewers
even if I put GPS in you and not the incisor
I just don't think I'd want you anymore
payback is a mother
I'll pay you back in full C.O.D.
payable on death
so just go ahead and try to collect
the grim reaper's a loan shark
but not in your waters
still water
bowels in the drains
I'll just leave you where you stand
please try to understand
I'll grow more mature teeth
you baby teeth
go cry home to mama

hey all ya water where'd ya go
did we know each other so long ago
anyway sorry for the Coriolis effect
it got fuckin' weird so I'm gonna go live in a time share

it's been real

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

if you're still reading then you're somewhat literate for some reason

So I played with the sun over an open flame all afternoon
We played telephone all day but everyone spoke too soon
The message got garbled but that's kind of the point
We greased up all those rickety joints
Boarded a boat for the moon
Opened up all those greasy mouths
To force the dirty hands back down in the dirt
All to catch the eye of a passing face
Dinner came so late it was nearly breakfast
Another mouth to feed
Another mouth to feed
Another mouth to feed
Another mouth to feed
The solar eclipsed lunch time

The sun melted into creaky joints
We caught the joy with a crayon sharpener
The rest of the day was too ridiculous
It was opposite day
But I forgot
The stupid traditions
And Pagan rituals
I forgot what made my blood work
I kept the paper work over late at night to keep it tidy
It's nice and legal that way
With eyes draining the clock
And melted nails sagging down the cheeks

Tomorrow is just todays yesterday
And the cookie crumbled
The dinner rolls went unchecked from the proper boxes
We all wound up going hungry for dinner
And instead we just ate our testimonials
The witness stand was outdated so we upgraded to a wireless bullshit machine
It was better in a way
And in another way it was even better

The albatross stood on the fork of the road and set my dinner table
I have a dinner date to sell my soul
That devil he better not be late
I'm important I guess or so says my backstage pass
I need a bucket to carry it all in
In the back pocket, pocket watch
Eyes watch the clock
Termite infested eye sockets

Mountain Stories, Vol. 1

The hillbilly talked to the mountain goat about the inner city android and just how life in general was getting him down. No one ever waits to speak in their turn. They're all gabbing on about nothing, blowing smoke into the depleted o-zone of unrequited attention spans.

Magnetic ice breakers set the conversation adrift full steam ahead. Power ties nixed the event, but it was sunny out so they decided for a rendevouz in the child's mouth.

It was cold and icky the weather was warm and sticky. They met near the wisdom teeth in the back but sweat glands and cooler heads prevailed. A staff infection prevented the accountant from keeping proper books. He was board certified, but the credentials were soaked in saliva. Paper doesn't take kindly to getting wet. It gets all up in a wad so they flushed it down the toilet.

The hillbilly climbed the teeth okay.
The mountain goat handled it effortlessly.
The inner city android kept yammering on about his fancy digital alarm clock.
They all overslept and couldn't avoid persistent perspiration that soiled the blankets considerably.

"Well, you gotta do something to keep the wind awake," he offered.

No one bought it. The wind overslept and missed that all important first day of the rest of its life.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

trite and true

let's all drive to the highway and abandon our cars

manufactured errors

computer mistake

artificial human

Dr. Intelligence

described prescription

coffeestained walls

pinball rigor mortis
spinning wheels keep on a-spinnin'

Monday, December 04, 2006

do i have to draw you a damned picture

rainbows keep stealing my ideas
because i'm the mentally illest

Sunday, December 03, 2006

toast for a wedding

I have known blank for many years
I have spoken to blank just recently
And let me just say that blank is no blank

if i get arrested call the cops