Kooky Lucy Frost (22)--the honey badger

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (22)--the honey badger"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost got up the nagging nerve to talk to Conor, as his asymmetrical walking gait cruised the sprawl of suburbia.  She left Cleveland behind, not needing interference, not even from her best pal--the holy hound that Saint Roch and Raphael knew well.  Therefore, she diligently dashed upon his presence, his buzzcut and mutlti-hued eyes gleaming gallantly over a lean build--a total ectomorph.  She said "hiya" and patiently waited for his radiant glare to respond.  He did so.
   "Lucy Frost."  He stated.  "Have I ever told you of the honey badger and my feminine intuition?"
   Lucy now knew the world was weird, like the STAR WARS cantina, but was determined to keep calm and carry a lightsaber. 
   She asked:  "Can you tell me, Conor?"
   He smiled nicotine-stained teeth, though straight and glistening, saying:  "The honey badger relies on the matriarch.  Its mother loving it so much that she exposes the baby to scorpion venom.  Plus, scorpions are pure protein; next, exposes it to snake venom.  The honey badger is a sublime zombie of supernatural nature.  It doesn't hide in a clean room, but is exposed to toxins and contagion--to make it strong.  A puff adder or cobra can strike it many times, even in the eye or mouth; still, the honey badger consumes the snake; then, it dies for two hours, but resurrects itself, as it is purified by feeding off of the negativity.  Christ said--resist not evil."
   Kooky Lucy understood:  "I should get out more, and kiss you."
   Conor handsomely smiled:  "Of course."  

Jango Fett vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi HD

Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

   
   "Don't Drink the Kool-Aid"
   
   Ya, like I was telling my last wife, and as the non-canonized Gospel of Thomas kinda/sorta totally hints @:  Be who you are!!!  Don't let them freakishly forge you into their images.  I knew a great writer once--she was great, the best, linguistically armed with foreign and archaic language skills; plus, filthy rich parents.  They would always take care of her, regardless.  Why didn't she throw her hat in the ring?  Prestige and bullshit.  People saying:  "There's no money in that."  But if you die rich; next, better learn to sell ice cream.  And I guess trash-men, welders, and janitors are just shitty people.  American Woman--stay the hell away from me, even though you wanted it.  And remember Twain's take on Confederate Generals--all given the star due to wealth and status.  Gettysburg was a slaughter of stupidity.  God Bless ALL those men--and the Civil War is no myth.  
   T.S. Eliot thought he was a fancy banker.  Fancy, fancy, fancy job.  Ezra Pound allegorically slapped him in the face, telling him that he was too important to be a banker.  And yes, a few weeks ago--the London Bridge metaphorically fell down.  
   And even though Eliot possibly put his wife in the cuckoo's nest due to a possible affair with Lord Bertrand Russell, well, I guess Britain is kinda/sorta a free country too.
   And while Pound was brought back to the States in a gorilla cage; then, locked away in an institute for the criminally insane, Eliot was getting the Noble Prize.  Curious.
   But that's the web of weird.  So, don't drink the Kool-Aid.  Be not of two minds.  

Dirty Laundry (As Made Famous by Don Henley)

Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd

   "Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd"
   
   Up North, ethnic guys like my Serbian Pap used to give each other the "business" with terms of endearment, such as:  An Irish guy is a Mick, a German guy is a Kraut, and the Pope was a Polack with a million dollar hat.  God has a sense of humor, for 70% of life on Terra's Terrain is a form of the beetle.  
   Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd, or Saint Pope John Paul the Great stood with Ronny Raygun to defeat Communism.  But he endured more--for God tests the just man and his faith; next, Justice and Peace shall kiss.
   The Mother comes before the Son--the Goose that lays the Golden Egg.  You better love the Virgin, for without Her--there would be no Jesus buddy.
   She weirdly appears on the 13th; however, She can Super-Position Herself, a term used in physics, meaning:  being in multiple places at once.  1 plus 3 = the Virgin and the Trinity, a Franciscan Friar might say.
   Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd was shot on the 13th day.  Four times.  Curious.  The pseudo-assassin fed him some Browning bullets.  You know how much negative metaphysical energy there is in a Browning?  Plenty.  But he said he couldn't get off a clear shot, for there was a woman in white standing in front of the Pontiff, so some stories go.
   After recovering, the Pope forgave the man, got his sentence reduced, and took one of the bullet shell-casings; next, he put it in the Crown of Mary that has twelve spikes, making the number 13--it seems to be Her number.  But I know:  She loves Her children everyday.
   Furthermore, it has only been a short time since his canonization, but invoke Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd, and he will point you in the direction of the Virgin Mother; next, She will point you in the direction of Christ.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (21)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (21)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost was dancing around the house while Pap was at the dandy barber getting his silver fox shaped.  She was listening to the theme song of THE JEFFERSONS, knowing they were singing that "beans don't burn in the kitchen; beans don't fry on the grill--took a whole lotta turning, just ta get up dat hill" or something; regardless, she was enjoying her earliest memories; next, opened the kitchen drawer to get a fork for her nicely tossed salad, and found a turkey baster--she freaked.  All she could think about was Thanksgiving and gravy.  Cousin Stevie telling her all those years ago that seminal fluid was gravy.  That a man's genitalia made dark, stinky gravy.  She threw-up a little in her mouth, began to compulsively wash her hands; next, water-boarded herself in the kitchen sink till her mouth, throat, and some lung tissue were all cleansed.  Her face was red, and her hands shaking.  After a minute of hearing her own erratic heartbeat, the phone rang, and she immediately knew there are no coincidences in life--it had to be Cousin Stevie.  She answered the land-line, for she had no cell phone as EMFs freaked her out.  It was Cousin Stevie.

STEVIE
I hear ya moved in with Pap ya fruitcake.  Remember that time I got dry-humped by the Democrat dude?

   Kooky Lucy Frost hung up the phone, got on her knees and said a Hail Mary for all the polluted people.  Then, she took her anti-psychotic and laid on the couch alongside a tail-wagging Cleveland.  

Coydog?