"Montreal Expos and Late Nights"
There was nothing more relaxing in the 1990's than watching The Late Late Show with Tom Snyder, when it was actually entertaining; specifically, it was totally chill, yet had grooves over the glacial conditions of comedy for mobile stability.
Mr. Snyder had spiritually hawkish people on board the airwaves, such as: Robert Conrad, Robert Blake, and ex-pitcher for the Montreal Expos, Bill Francis Lee, him more importantly and better known as simply: SPACEMAN.
Yup, back when Canada had more MLB potency. But don't worry, I still pull for the USA in them Rio-running Olympics, for I know: Americans love their chicken nuggets and salty fries after heroic competition.
"Love Contrivance (25)"
They were rewriting history in Nashville/Franklin, morphing the axiomatic truth into ghosts gone missing, not remembering the sacrifices bravely made by so many. Hell, no one gave a rat's ass about me taking care of Grandma save Lucy and the sublime specters of the Otherworld.
And as Grandma and myself were watching a classic episode of THE ROY ROGERS SHOW, with his thunderously amazing dog Bullet, I cranked open a can of peaches in heavy syrup; then, I fed them to Grandma, slipping them inside her oral cavity, for sometimes her mouth wouldn't open, yet she always loved being minty fresh; thus, the tooth-brushing usually went well.
Lucy came over with some turkey meat and a block of cheddar; plus, a couple of cans of pears in heavy syrup, knowing the cheddar might back Grandma up a bit, and the anchoring down of her fecal matter within the large intestine only caused me more labor, having to be on poop patrol every minute.
Lucy picked at my cerebral aspects, wanting to eagerly know if I had carnally scored with Ai. Of course I hadn't, but explained why, not knowing if a robotic vaginal cavity might be more deadly, such as being armed with a device to cut through flesh, instead of a corporeal chick full of gonorrhea, where after engaging her in intercourse; next, you piss razor blades till the Doc shoots your flabby ass full of antibiotics.
But hell--it was all cool. And I had Lucy laughing snot due to my wacky neurosis, yet she put a loving hand on mine, saying: "Just be yourself Simon Swiss, for you're an okay guy."
"The Full Sturgeon Moon: August 18, 2016"
An illuminated time of being pampered by SpongeBob and his aquatic friends; specifically, major bodies of water and the Great Lakes kick it up with large, floppy fish, blessing you with wild things both bountiful and beneficial, like beautification of the body if you eagerly consume all the Omega-3 Fatty Acids that you can.
This is a time of abundant relaxation, knowing nature provides a plethora of plenty, if not over industrialized; thus, cosset yourself, yet be on the watch for strategically-lurking werewolves, as nobody really knows what the hell is going on in this world save those full of knowing.
"Love Contrivance (24)"
I wasn't perniciously pissed @ Hope Solo; moreover, I understand frigid frustration--hell, I'm as neurotic as a white cat without the enchantment of magic; still, their feline-like, Multiversal Magic might be wondrously greater--ya never know.
And the Women's Swedish Soccer Team--so what!?!
Strategic as it comes, and didn't Sherman, from them Federal/Union Ranks admit that troops accounted for were not the actual numbers on the battlefield?
Yup, been going to the Williamson County Library in Downtown Franklin, reading about the Confederate and Yankee specters that haunt with teachable moments.
I pulled for the USA--of course; nevertheless, I admired other cultures, not so much their cuisine, liking BURGER KING and all the condemns passed out at public schools. Hell, it's America. Give the suffering sick and strangely ill their medicine damn't!!!
But there is quicksand controversy, and Bravo Sierra everywhere!!!
"Love Contrivance (23)"
It just wasn't arousing me, or how to word it properly: "I'm freaking asexual!"
The slop and filth of it all, minus the magnanimous, Canadian pronghorn mating for reasons of play and adoration--I didn't get it. Gotta learn from the stag.
And deep in the American South, well, South-Eastern Conference Football, in a matter of writing; plus, speaking: I remembered the Hundred Years' War; moreover, Saint Joan of Arc, and the BATTLE for Orleans, or so as it has been written, crafting my imaginative production on brainwaves in that particular place.
Fiery, virginal, cross-dressing, short haircut, and all the confidence of someone appearing non-confident, but being the fox, knowing HER'S will last for ultra-eternity--now that's super-sublimity, sincerely aligned and universally united with Intelligent Design, the Master of Us put in creation and rotation.
Yup, Ai was fine. A Japanese beauty. But what did this all mean? Atari has passed, or so it seems, and without PITFALL HARRY, well, I can handle it--got it covered, dude.
"Love Contrivance (22)"
Ai started in, at the JACK IN THE BOX of a French Bistro;
Indeed, only grilled chicken marinated in orange juice, nothing but her that was astro--
So far out into the galactic might,
Having a mechanical brain with computerized flight;
Specifically, technological wings of unlimited possibility, and she knew the ethnic slurs,
But I wanted to adorn her in blue-hued sapphire gemstones, and predatory furs;
Alas, I was no match for a love-making machine,
Yet she found faith in my poignant mien,
Knowing my usual thrills were not bodily discharge, like confetti left over after a party;
Plus, my ass could be weirdly wise--a non-potty mouth, though a bit bizarrely naughty.
