... Batman Smells, Robin Laid An Egg...

I just love this. May your Holiday family encounters be free of confrontation and full of the Milk of Human Kindness. Make mine a double.

Friday Tune

Electronic - TIGHTEN UP

The CURSE of VERSE (for better...worse) - VI

The first stanza of this poem was posted on September 23, 2008. I'm not sure where it's headed or even where it's been. As always - stay tuned.

2

Then I fled, the Mark of Cain upon my head. Which was oddly God's protection since my Brother now lay Dead.

I denied that I was Guilty and I lied yet the One who knew my Truth had Loved me more than I could fathom.

Then the Sinless Self-Professors told their Lies to their Confessors and as One pointed fingers at my Guilt. Shouting DAMNED!

Laughing they said that I'd left my Brother Dead and for me there was no Heaven. It was Hell that I should Dread.

I cried until I bled. I beat my chest. "My Life Instead!"

Once again the Chorus sounded while my beating fists still pounded but the words they said resounded through the Torment in my Soul.

Peace instead. So many years you have ahead to follow forward as a thread to bring you to My side.

... to be continued

The Story I Wish I Could Tell You

The story I wish I could tell you would be filled with a bright light that knew my name. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have familiar faces, gone before. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a misty vision of my body below as I floated above. 

The story I wish I could tell you would recall my mother's sweet voice reading to me through a fog. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a galaxy of stars where I weightlessly wandered. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have Him reaching for me and calling me Beloved. 

The story I wish I could tell you might be a frightful place filled with the screams of the Lost. The story I wish I could tell you might crackle and spit with unquenchable fire. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a dark room forever alone. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a place, any place at all for me. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have me being...

The story I am left with held no dreams, no torment, no fear. 

Nothing experienced with no one there. 

That's even wrong. 

There was no "there" to hold anyone, anything, any feeling, any darkness.

Peace? Perhaps. But who would know?

She's Just Not Qualified To Be Vice President

I do like her hair down though. Particularly on her arms...

He's A Pickens...

... and I'm a Grinnin'! 

Live Wrong and Prosper, y'all!

Don't Jump! Just Dance.

Time Zone (Afrika Bambaata with Johnny Lydon) - WORLD DESTRUCTION 

The CURSE of VERSE (for better...worse) - V

Blancmange - THE GAME ABOVE MY HEAD

1

Someone said there's a place in my Head where the Living and the Dead carry on discourse.

I denied that anything inside could be forced to provide any proof of being in there.

Then the giggle of the Chorus who had gone so long before us burbled up through the porous part of Me I call my Mind.  

Laughing they said that I'd made my Bed and to argue with the Dead proved me Madder than I'd feared.

I inhaled my Dread realizing I'd fed my Sanity on the Bread that They couldn't really be there.

Once again the Chorus giggled as upon my chair I wiggled and the line I drew grew squiggled between Them and Me.

So misled - so many Years I sought a Thread to follow backwards in my Head to take me to my Source.

... to be continued.

Some Days...

... my afflictions win and I am left breathless, powerless and in despair. All options exhausted for the moment, hour or day I stand bathed in my own sweat and shame for having failed to prepare for the inevitable battle. 

Once again my stamina has deserted me and I am left a twisted knot of emotions. Entangled, I struggle to free some part of myself. Just a free hand or leg or feeling. A still point in the swirl of twisting rope. Clarity, a pause - a second to catch my wind. But then follows the flailing against the maddening knot. My efforts rewarded by tighter bonds.

Angered now, I reach for the old tools. Dull from age and overuse but still lethal if used with enough power. The lashes, the bruising I inflict on those I love. The scars I give myself. And the ropes hold.

Frenzy finally surrenders to exhaustion. I stop because I can't continue. No nobility in my feeble surrender.

All that remains are tears. Hot and bitter. Even they yield at last to sleep.

Les MisBarack

Dear Sarah,

The BUSH DOCTRINE is a term used to describe the policy of pre-emption attributed to United States President George W. Bush. Specifically, the Bush Doctrine focuses on the controversial policy of preventive war, which holds that the United States government should depose foreign regimes that represent a threat to the security of the United States, even if such threats are not immediate and no attack is imminent. The Bush Doctrine was used to justify the Invasion of Iraq in March, 2003.

Put Simply (simply-er?) - Shoot first and justify it later. You know, like that boy did to your daughter! Get it now? Let me know by lookin' CRAZY...

Good Girl! Now go get a juice-box.

A Thousand Words

1

"Kill us some dinner, Ellie Mae, and be quick about it young'un!"

"I'll grab my M-16 gun, Uncle Jed! Look out critters! You're about to become vittles!"

2

Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice pictured with Moammar Gadhafi and Harvey the Invisible Shi'ite.

And Now This

Propellorheads with Shirley Bassey - HISTORY REPEATING

Senator John McCain introduces his Vice Presidential Candidate, Tina Fey and her husband Josh Brolin, to his wife "Adjustable Hair-Length First-Lady Barbie" and other members of his Cabinet.

The group includes Secretary of The Impossible - Tom Cruise, Secretary of The View - Sherri Sheppard and Secretary of Holding Little Girls By The Shoulders - Josh Hartnett.

When I'm scared I whistle.

"I can't help myself!"

She Drives Me Crazy - Fine Young Cannibals

Well, I guess we can cross "Abstinence" and "Teen Pregnancy" off the Republican platform this year. Maybe a free condom could have helped? At least the Redneck Double-wide vote is a lock.

Ralph Nader, Jesse Ventura and Cindy Sheehan are having a meeting in the Twin Cities so I guess the Idiot vote is still up for grabs.

Viva Democracy! Only in America can a complete moron rise from anonymity to mediocrity!

P.S. Now, since the nation has heard her talk about God, guns and how the ANWAR needs drilling, I have re-evaluated my previously harsh critique of Gov. Palin into these few points:

• Tina Fey called, she'd like her look back.
• Polar Bears called, they'd like to avoid extinction.
• I can't hear you when you whine.

P.P.S. The joke actually goes:

- What's the difference between a Hockey-Mom and a Pit Bull?

- You could kiss a Pit Bull if you had to.

Later This Week! 

• JUNO in Juneau?
  
• Hijinks in Underage, Alaska?

an evolution of me

Gary Numan - REMEMBER I WAS VAPOR

images i've re-worked lately. a little old a little new. making me out of monkey.

oh, very young

psyche obscura

quantum foam wash

blue eyes

continental drift - not my fault lines

i am smoke

She haunts me still.

As she dozed on the crowded city bus, draped on the bench atop her plastic bags, mismatched luggage - all of her belongings - I snapped her picture. Trying not to stare her awake, I looked away. Her imprint in my mind morphed into a PIETA - a bag-lady-crucified-Christ, the blue vinyl of the bus seat the Holy Mother holding her. Something about her made me think of peace.

She must have been a "regular" on the route, for when the driver braked, he indicated it was her stop and asked that her fellow passengers awaken her. No one moved, though everyone heard, and since I knew their paralysis was unique to Minnesota and incurable, I stepped up. Shaking her shoulder gently and saying, "Excuse me, Ma'am?" in a clear loud voice, I tried to rouse her. The skin of her face was paper thin and paper white - complicated lines of weather and time flashed a sweet smile as her dream ended and her eyes opened. I explained we had arrived at her stop and helped her gather her life's luggage and disembark.

She haunts me still. Did I do a good thing by helping her get where she was going? Or was my action an assault? An interruption of the temporary peace that her passing dream-time had provided; a minute's paradise in a life I doubt she'd ever dreamed would be hers.

Life Is A Great Big Hang Up

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4o29VoxtsFk

"Wherever there's a hang-up. You'll find a Spider-Man!"

it publishes itself while i sleep

 

Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound sat slouched in the towel I'd wrapped it in making soft sucking sounds to itself - rhythmic, almost musical. It continued, the only sound in the room, until my curiosity overcame me, "Tell me, " I ventured, "do tell me, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, how I can ring me up some Jesus to rain down on my head? My spark is stuck in the flesh-web in my brain. I need me some Jesus to rain down on my head."  

Silence broken by the sucking sound the wound made - rhythmic almost musical. The next voice was not my own.  

"You are SO human!" my kitty cat uncurled in the space beneath my chin and giggled, "Oh SO human and SO all alone! Calling out for the one thing that's never left you. Pity Man, so sure of himself and yet suspended over the gulf of Eternity - his Forever teeters first one way then another."  

As usual my kitty cat made more sense than a kitty cat should but her wise words were instantly lost on my slippery soul so again I ventured, "Tell me please, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, tell me HOW I can ring me some Jesus to rain down on my poor head?"  

It made a smack, its red-ringed mouth slippery as I bled, then silent a second it seemed to think.  

"Listen to itself it must!" Its voice a moist, hoarse whisper, "The jug of wine calls out it thirsts! The dinner dies of hunger!" 

The "h" in "hunger" bubbled blood, so absently I wiped it clean. My kitten laughed her meowing laugh to fill the awkward moment.  

"From Paradise it banished its silly Self! (said banish-shed, Shakespearean)." Smack smack - it giggled? - then it fell mute, its riddle slowly forming like the scab that dried on my forearm. It had drizzled blood since early morning.  

For an instant I might have understood, epiphany triumphant. Then Fear, my favorite feeling, Father of all the Others, overcame my clarity. It was too easy, a trick - might I be the source of my own Eternity? In my horror I cried, "Too simple! It must be Complex, a snarl of rules, a list of Steps!" I shook my arm in anger and the Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound seemed to cough, the blood flow increasing,"I have been taught to believe in a Chosen few, no Infidels allowed! The Diverse made Same Forever and Ever, Amen."  

"Man's Rules, not God's!" It raised its voice. I blinked back tears.  

"If true," I whispered,"then all I've learned of Grace and God must be replaced. All my Doing wasted. My frantic quest to be redeemed. My spark alone enough for Heaven's gate - not earned but given - a Loving Fate."  

"Mm Hm, " it hummed, my Kitten purred. The Universe buzzed around me.  

The Fool, in tears I spoke again,"Please tell me, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, tell me HOW I can ring me some Jesus to rain down on my poor head?" 

My Lesson lost, I begged a task, assignment, cost, some work to do to earn it. My Kitten ceased her purring, spun a circle curling up with her ass dismissively in my face. Among the three of us I was the least enlightened.

Suck-suck, suck-suck - rhythmic almost musical. Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound sat slouched in the towel I'd wrapped it in making soft sucking sounds to itself. The only sound in the room...

What's The Matter Here?

Homophobia is still killing men all over the world. Intolerance and "fundamentalist" versions of the World's Religions greatly contribute to the idea that homosexuals are somehow an "abomination."

In 86 nations, homosexual sex is considered a crime, and in 7 countries it is punishable by death, according to the Foundation for AIDS Research, known as Amfar.

In 2003, Mexico (yep, that's right - Mexico. NOT the LandoftheFreeandtheHomeoftheBrave) banned discrimination based on sexual orientation, and it has opened what it calls homophobic-free health clinics. The government has a national campaign that includes radio spots with mothers accepting their gay sons.

Worldwide, few developing nations check the rates of HIV infection among men who have sex with men, but researchers who have surveyed some of these countries say they are finding the rates are nearly twice that of the general adult population.

More tolerant, modern nations still see protests born of homophobia and hate. It is the responsibility of everyone who has a homosexual child, brother, sister, cousin or co-worker to spread the spirit of tolerance by openly sharing their experience with others.

silence is death

Barack Obama Agrees To Negotiate With Master Cylinder!

Barack Obama - soon to be King Of Earth - has agreed to meet WITHOUT PRE-CONDITIONS with MASTER CYLINDER-King Of The Moon!




These unprecedented talks are aimed at ending the centuries old conflict between the MOON MEN and America's Favorite Feline Defender FELIX THE CAT!



The talks center around control of the MAGIC BAG OF TRICKS that Felix uses to thwart the MOON MEN.




This technology was recently leaked to MASTER CYLINDER by the bags inventor THE PROFESSOR and his henchman ROCK-BOTTOM.


The leak was revealed by THE PROFESSOR's nephew POINDEXTER after hours of interrogation by CIA and Army Intelligence.

Rumors of "water-boarding" have been vigorously denied by spokesmen for the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the current Administration.

BREAKING NEWS! Young Republicans Figure Out What "OXYMORON" Means

(and the elephants rejoiced)

Students and Advisors gather in horror when they realize that Ronald Reagan is just a fading memory for Generation-Next... and pretty much for his last term in office, sad.

Twenty-Somethings have trouble doing the math on the vexing question "How many of me adds up to one John McCain?"

(Maybe this many?)

Also troubling, will a beer can fit inside the secret compartment in Cindy McCains Hair?

(...when it's time to relax...)

Tomorrow's Headline Today: DID YOU GUYS KNOW HE'S BLACK?

New York London Paris Munich!

Everybody's Dancing to M POP MUSIK

I'm daily amazed by the World Wide hits on the epistle.

The Last 100 hits on this site came from all over the world. Take a look:

How does my humor play in Thailand, South Africa, Finland, Tel Aviv...? Do they really love FREE PHIL SPECTOR'S WIG in Hong Kong? Why is FELIX THE CAT suddenly the toast of east Asia? 

And how the hell can I get their attention in ANTARCTICA? My missing continent. I must lure them. Here goes:

ANTARCTICA TO BE MELTED TO PROVIDE IRRIGATION OF THE SAHARA

ANTARCTICA STRUCK BY COMET

ANTARCTICA DOES NOT REALLY EXIST

PEOPLE LIVING IN ANTARCTICA MAY LIVE TO BE 200

THERE ARE NO ANTS IN ANTARCTICA - WEIRD

ANTARCTICA SMELLS LIKE FEET

Thank You and Farewell

MICHAEL DeBAKEY 1908-2008

Thank You Dr. DeBakey, From The Bottom Of My Heart

Where Is The PERFECT CRIME?

It occured to me during a lunch conversation that between LAW & ORDER (Original, SVU, CI, EI-EI-O), CSI (Las Vegas, Miami, New York, Bugtussle) and countless FORENSIC FILE imitators - whew - that the PERFECT CRIME should have been committed by now.

Why hasn't it? Or has it? Have YOU committed it? Would you like to Confess? Anonymously, maybe?

Or is there Anyone you'd like to ACCUSE?

Unburden yourself to the epistle, my friend. You'll feel better. We'll both feel better.

... and speak directly into your computer's microphone... no reason.

And Now...The CUTE BOMB!

These little monkeys are probably talking by now instead of sleepily lolling about. Hell, they could be driving as fast as time seems to pass at mid-life.

I hope these images resuface for them. What a couple of googly-eyed little sea-monkeys.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you all here today...?"

Startled.

Stamped.

Daddy's pickin' and Baby's a grinnin'.

Flowers, Kitty-cats and Babies. Hope your sweet tooth is satisfied. I'll have to darken things a bit after my Fourth of July Patriotic Extravaganza!

Pictures Of Kitty Cats

This is my little Toe-Biter, Bobbie. Actually her full name is Roberta Appassioniqua Fifi Hogan.

She isn't alway bad or angry, in fact, sometimes she's extremely sweet just not for very long at least not long enough to photograph. Her bad and destructive antics are far more photogenic.

Here, she's just sitting and staring into space quietly planning to attack the toilet paper roll in the bathroom or run across the kitchen floor sliding into the refrigerator with a thud as her little skull hits the door.

This is my old kitty, Stinky. Her full name is Stinkerella Fifi Louise Hogan. The picture below is by far my best version of her, I think it captures her wildness and sense of play!

Below, her calico body blends effortlessly as she seems to float on the patterned home-made quilt beneath her. I miss my Stinky. She lives with her other Daddy in Minneapolis.

Flowers, kitty cats - what next? Babies. Excellent guess!

I Been Bit!

No not snake-bit - though moving back to Texas has increased my chances of that happening. Actually I've been bit by the Art bug of late and have been exercising my creative muscles visually.

Since this has coincided with a case of Blogger's Block, I thought I'd share some pictures with you! Enjoy!

So I like pretty flowers and PhotoShop? You gotta problem wid dat?

Seriously, all of these were made with my cell-phone camera, PhotoShop, my Mac and me.

I particularly love roses (now there's a gift hint) they have so much personality.

Even house plants, digitally enhanced, have a certain arty appeal.

And you thought I was just a pretty face and a smart-ass remark!