Reagan's ALIEN speech to UN

Kooky Lucy Frost (23)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (23)"
   
   Kooky Lucy was back in her house, chatting it up with Pap in an almost manic state about how she had kissed Conor on the asphalt ballet of the suburban sprawl, but no tongue, just a mere peck--the first time she'd kissed a guy in over 13 years.  Too, she said he didn't taste like rancorous adultery, but was minty fresh.  And she rambled on about this without the slightest of a radish's blush.  
   Pap was cracked up, ignited his coffin nail with the spark of sulfur, and exhaled his happiness, being merry for a flaky grandchild, her never realizing her awesome beauty, as if innately protecting it due to an act of persevering for the perfect guy.  Pap knew of Conor.  Some bad seeds in the neighborhood had called the guy a gimp, a skeletal freak, him having hyperactivity of the Basal ganglia or some technical shit that gave him funky motor skills due to playing football in high school @ the position of free safety, having taken many head on collisions from larger, though slower guys--the damn Irish were crazy, Pap's internal Serb thought, but he knew Conor was no drunk, just a guy that lived with his parental units, kinda like Lucy, having a mild job as a janitor for the Catholic Church, paying his taxes, and taking no shit, as the Irish don't give a damn about what people think, but only of what God thinks, and as the Burgundy of the situation metaphysically goes--a just war is honorable, just control your power.
   Thus, Pap told Lucy:  "Interesting that after Twain penned his Saint Joan of Arc book, saying he never gave a damn about writing anything else, the Western Rite offered her Beatification; next, made her a Saint a decade later.  She fought though was of God, and you too Lucy have to fight.  You are incarnate, and a true old school guy will always look after you, especially if they have the intangible steel of a hardcore spirit.  And I know of Conor--he is a loner like yourself, nearing fifty, and would treat you as a delicious dame through all the dastardly deeds of this modernized world gone screwed by more machines than spirit.  He sings from the heart, and I think you should pursue your interest."
   Lucy was like:  "I do really like him Pap.  Even though we're of the Eastern Rite."
   Pap blew a smoke ring:  "Our Priests just get to have facial hair and have sex; otherwise, no significant difference."  
   Lucy chuckled, and Cleveland howled happily, somehow knowing . . .

Animotion - Obsession (lyrics)

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)