Dodgers Update

   
   "Dodgers Update"
   
   Justin Turner just put the All American Bat to a fastball.  It didn't clear the fence, but it was pretty good.  Pretty good.  
   They say the Dodgers are psychologically scarred from their August slump--I don't think so.  They have heavy hitters, and now football is too disgraceful to empirically observe.
   Holy Fire!  Dodgers got the bases loaded up, and no outs.
   What happened to enjoying a Dodger Dog, cheese dip, and a Coke with your family and watching a truly spiritual game.  Baseball is not a circus, as Cicero said of the gladiatorial gore in Ancient Rome; specifically, football is the circus, at least the NFL is.  Dude, those guys are filthy rich.  Get over it; indeed, they bed hot women that you and I will never have, act like fools off the field, and don't even take hits anymore.  It's like NERF ball.  Staubach took hits, and never bitched.
   Oh well, keep your feet on the ground, and your head in the heavens.  
   Grand Slam baby--Dodgers are on the field.  

Charlie Brown Christmas Dance

Quasi-Kevin Feltner; plus, pseudo-Dr. Grenier

   
   "Quasi-Kevin Feltner; plus, pseudo-Dr. Grenier"
   
   1st Amendment.  Everything allowed save clear and present danger, fighting words, and if it's ambiguous, always allowed.  I'm always ambiguous, or am I?
   Did you enjoy being in league with crooked attorneys?  False testimony with the sheriff's department?  Having 9-millimeters closer than a foot from my mother's head?  That is elder abuse, to the raw bone of it all.  Did you enjoy torturing my mother?  Yes, I think you did.
   You're watching me; indeed, but they're watching you watch me.  I'm "pretty smart" quasi-Kevin Feltner?  I'm in your wife's hole, which one, I don't understand myself.  It could be her ear, her nose, her urethra, but--I'm in there.  How does it feel?  Whose is the fool now?  My Mother says hello.  Have you met my Mother?  Do you want to screw Her?  The Virgin Mary has great legs, but only I can glare upon them, for I am not Freud, or better words, the devil.  But the devil is your father, the father of lies and murder, as it is written by the Author of Life.  He invented the hamburger.
  I telepathically communicate with Putin.  Possibly.  He is watching you.  I'm no traitor, but I know a goddamn friend.  Trump is my father, allegorically.  He taught me how to fight.  How to label you, as you have labelled me, but--no longer.
   I'm you're only chance at sanity.  Then why do you read this?  Are you addicted to me?  Does your wife lust after my atomic rod?  Possibly.  
   I'm "pretty smart."  No.  I'm not.  But the devil is your father.  Relax, it's all a metaphor.  And you bald-headed crook, pseudo-lawman.  Don't make my Mother give you colon cancer.  She has ice water in Her veins.  Wouldn't you?  You murdered Her Son, right in front of Her; next, hung Him on a Cross, and gambled for His garments, as King David knew 1,000 years before.  If only you were Hebrew.  It is good to be a member of the Tribe.  Even, if only a Levite.  

USA: They bury us from within

   
   "USA:  They bury us from within"
   
   I break bread with a black dude every two months.  He has two jobs.  Has a wife and kids--I've met them.  Good man.  Good family.  And yet Maxine Waters wants to make him a slave all over.  Who has his hand up that educated woman's ass.  Putin.  He is the puppet master.  Brilliant.  Strong.  And as deadly as they make them.  Thank God for Trump.  He's a killer too, metaphorically.
   Went to the bank yesterday.  Not like years ago.  Now the banker wants to cut off my head.  I see his little eyes want to make me a Crusader again, as were my fathers.  He smiles wickedly at me.  Attempts to make me stumble.  Comes to my goddamn country, only in order to kill me.  You reject President Elect?  You little phony-educated snobs.  Go to Iran and hug them.  I dare you.  They'll cut off your head and sodomize your hippie beads so quick that you won't know what the fuck hit you.
   Putin is laughing Maxine Waters.  He's your allegorical daddy, Maxine Waters.  He owns you and your millions.  
   Are blacks better athletes?  I played goddamn ball for 5 years, numerous fractures, blackouts, and with cool black dudes.  They're not better athletes--just men, like all of us.  Don't believe me?  Then match Obama against Putin in a cage match.  It wouldn't last a second.  Put your Messiah, Obama, up against Putin--man to man.  We'll see who the better athlete is.
   So, keep talking Maxine Waters.  You're doing everything Putin is telling you to do, allegorically.  

Mighty Dave King

   
   "Mighty Dave King"

   My biological father, pure Nordic, hair as blonde as the Sun, and eyes as blue as the Arctic Ocean itself.  They told me to hate him for screwing a whore.  A whore that assisted in his death.  Too bad, I know who she is--the devil, and there are many devils among us, whispering charms into our ears, flattering us with their wicked lips, all in order to emasculate us.
   My Dad slapped me in the face.  It was my best moment.  I love him for slapping me.  It was goddamn beautiful.  He didn't discharge no pussy.
   Played college ball.  Took on men twice his size.  Numerous concussions, and he loved every minute of it.  Pain is good.  It lets you know that you are alive.  Embrace the pain.  Love it.
   Too, he wrote code.  Put computers into rockets, more or less.  And never bragged of it.  So meek and gentle, never giving himself credit, unless it was too instruct me.
   He sat me down, saying:  "Mark, you think you've done drunk-driving.  No, I've done drunk-driving.  You think you had girls.  No, I had girls, every single one I wanted."  Good for him.  You will not take my father from me, nor the lessons he taught.  You already did.  And now--Dave King is back.  And he'll screw the whore that stole everything from him and his son, right up the ass.  Good for him.  Go get them father.  Now and forever.  

Heathcliff (intro)

Cranberries Zombie ( lyrics )