people love the new yorker 18

New! Mattresses for bears! (RRR)

What's up?
Nothing.
What you doing?
Nothing.
What're you doing tomorrow?
Nothing.
What about In Living Color?
Nothing.
What about Jim Carrey?
Nothing.
What's up cake?
Nothing.
What's up pie?
Nothing.
What's up cheese burger?
Nothing.
What've you got on?
Nothing.
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?
Nothing.
What's up shaving cream?
Nothing.
What's up Triple H?
Nothing.
What's up General Hospital?
Nothing.
What's so funny?
Nothing.

fingers met the toes then it was all over

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

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

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.

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'

do i have to draw you a damned picture

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

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

wasted words

in the basement finding out wasted words meant
the lights are tinted
the hues are shining
the fights are staged
in a backroom of my mind
the key got stuck in my throat
swallowed too much truth
bit off too much
now i've just had enough
going back

people love the new yorker 17

people love the new yorker 16

Dear Dreamers

Dear Poster Child,

I hung your poster up on my bedroom wall, and wanted to express my gratitude for the image that hangs above my head as dreams loom just out of reach. I've never seen a kitten throw a hammer at a cowboy before, but I'm sure it would land with as much impact in his skull as it has in my life.

I quit my job and reluctantly fininshed school, and yet, something was still amiss. I was drifting on a collision course with the sun. Not literally of course, though the earth will eventually explode or the sun will the scientists are saying. But that's none of my concern.

The problem is I've never met a cowboy. Sure, I've seen the movies and gone to those expensive cowboy simulation ranches, the fantasy camps, and even got a fancy degree in the next best thing to cowboyonomy (beastwrangling). But I've never met no fast-talking, gun-slinging, hard-farting, Pocahontas, blanket-giving cowboy.

Can you make a dying boy's dream come true? I know you are no longer a child as this poster was printed in 1976, and the law of statistics suggests that at least one out of two people have met a real cowboy. Have you?

Look me up, I'm in the phone book.

Signed,
Your #5312 Fan

P.S. Thanks for assigning my fanhood a rank and number based on the order in which I joined.

MEXICOPS: THE REAL STORY

Hank loaded into his station at exactly 3:49PM. He'll never forget it because his watch read 3:49PM. Mr. Lopez successfully loaded an entire can of beans into his mouth, and he was no longer hungry. Lucky thing too, as it was ten miles of bad road between then and lunch time. And he was just the man to bridge that gap, then burn that bridge. One more thing. On the other side of the bridge was going to be a children's hospital.

Hank Lopez is just one third of the daring MEXICOPS unit.

Senor Aaron is up next. Boy can this guy knit a pair of socks with the short hairs of his least favorite enemies. Did he mention his enemies? They're all dead thanks to a deadly case of face poisoning. That's right. He punched them all in the face. All at once. Senor Aaron has a gargantuan fist. That's why the ladies call him Lucky Larry.

Senor Aaron is just one third of the explosive MEXICOPS unit.

Reporting for duty is Timothy Baniel. He's got a short temper and he's long on rope. He works in a rope factory, but he quit that bullshit after about 1,000 seconds. Oh by the way, Timothy Baniels lives in the moment. What seems like 1,000 seconds to you and me is a lifetime exploded with a roundhouse kick by Timothy Baniels. I think he lives in a dumpster or something.

Timothy Baniels is just one third of the cavernous MEXICOPS unit.
Together, they are three thirds of the exciting new MEXICOPS unit.
This is MEXICOPS!!!

Previously, on MEXICOPS

HANK
Alright men, here's the situation. Sneaky Simon locked us in this dungeon full of beans. Aaron, get punching. I'm gonna start eating.

AARON
Okay Lopez. I'll get ready my fist punchers. It's clobbering-time. With my hands!

TIMOTHY
Hey you guys, stop. What's this?

AARON
It's a door!

NEXT TIME ON MEXICOPS!!!



[yes this is drawing #400]

keep on a-lookin'

you never made time
until you drained out the clock
and the point was always made
without ever having to talk

thanks for the cards

a lighter touch with some heavy hands
reaching into deeper pockets
jolted into the eye sockets
to retrieve some greater truth
sent away to a PO Box
anonymous reply
some distance away
in an unmarked letter
vintage stamps
the skywriter's message was cloudy
i inhaled the note
and coughed deeply
the tears wept over an open flame
still, my name's the same

insert inert

you hitched your star to mine in a trailer park
you reached out to me but it was a shot in the dark
at best it made things worse
soon enough it'll all be over
egg on my face
i've had enough

i shot the stars out of my gun
it was target practice
i missed at best
if i hit something i'll pay for the damage
the window cracked
and years later i heard a crash
i went to investigate signs of life
but wound up where i started instead

a roadside map got me lost
and a highway got me feelin' so low
subhuman in the basement
the main attraction was a preview

the ticket was lost in the mail
so happy holidays
and don't give up the ghost
though it gave up on you

long ago
in a moment froze
a jar catching fireflies
in a paper forest
the blaze stayed
and passed through the night
like a dream it wouldn't stay
more flies in honey
fly paper just won't learn to stay

so i gave up on drinking the water
the horse just stays around to say my name

hey peach fuzz i got some bearded grapes

you been doin' all that growin' up you talked so much about?
well i'll meet you at the grave!



THIS WILL BE THE LAST DRAWING FOR A LITTLE WHILE AS I AM BEING COURT ORDERED TO STOP.
THE FUN WILL RESUME IN A WEEK OR SO (with #400.)

open letter to a closed mind

go ahead,
keep acting like you've got nothing left to lose
you're left chewing your last tooth
sucking off the back of your throat
trying to survive the tail spin
of an open grave

you fall asleep face down
on a rake skinned beach
you open a bowl of cherries like it's everybody's party
you act like you don't know how you feel

how do you feel?
did you just turn the heart on
did you read the warranty manual?
fill out the registration card
and send it off
for Mr. Mailman to send it away

Thanks Mr. Mailman for all the mail
you're doing a bang up job and I'm sorry
for when everyone says "going postal" in a bad way
They probably should mean it in a nicer way
but no one ever stops to talk like they used to

Anyway I gotta get going.