Jericho Liveth

   
   "Jericho Liveth"
   
   Thought Brad Pitt was good looking.  Not being gay.  Or am I?  Saw Chris Jericho talking about the Dodgers--he's Pitt with Roid Rage.  Good for him.  He'll kick your ass.  I'll watch.  Get in there and hit someone, you NERF football gamblers!!!  You never suited up a day in your life.
   Don't damn your demons.  Develop them.  You witches and hags heard me!  I fancy mermaids myself.  Eat Chicken of the Sea tuna--guess I'm not gay.
   What ever happened to the 1970's?  The Carter Administration had great television, Reagan gave us steeled motion pictures, and with the former Messiah in office, I thought I was delivered into the Promised Land of Drag Queens.  Truly, you transformed America.  Maxine Waters is your legacy, and Putin smiles, at you, not me, because I have damn reverence for a ferocious fighter--you schmucks!!!
   Aren't you proud of him?  He's an attorney.  You mean, a crook?  Class Action Lawsuits are the biggest crimes.  Jesus loves you--they say; next, you're paying them millions, and they never remember you.  Greed.  Evil.  Synonymous.  Good for you.  Learn to sell ice cream.
   Always wanted a Chevrolet.  Had one.  Camaro.  A friend.  Small Block Eight.  Four Barrel.  Hot and heavy on the highway.  TRANSFORMERS exploits Chevrolet--I heard you schmo, yeah, you told me that.  I like the Chevy.  He's a Green Beret, drives a Chevrolet--my Nordic buddy wrote that song years ago.  It's nice to be nice.  Whispering charms into people's ears.  Flattering them with compliments, to set them up for the kill.  Priests listen.  If that elderly lady brings you a fudge bunt-cake; next, throw it away.  It contains toxic contagion!!!  In my humble opinion.
   And who are you to tell your grandmother of your great deeds?  She's been around the block kid, and you're nothing.  Yeah, keep trying to put me behind the Eight Ball.  James Cagney told me that was your intention.  Even when you tampon-picking rebels go overseas, you're damn proud to be called YANKEE.  Southern Generals were not better generals, just better dressed.  End of lesson.  

Miami Vice - In The Air Tonight | NBC Classics

God Has An Army

   
   "God Has An Army"
   
   I always wanted an orange lightsaber, to light my cigarettes with.  Turn the lightsaber on, put some organic tobacco in your mouth; then, saturate your insides; next, exhale all those inner dimensions, outwards, to Grandfather--you know what I mean.  Are you picking up what I'm putting down, or do you morons have a college education like Maxine Waters?
   They discriminate.  People get angry when a few bad apples spoil it all, and sometimes Bucko--they damn do.  Talked to this cool dude this morning around 5 AM at the gas station.  He had a glint in his eyes.  And so did I.  We got along, perfectly.  I exited, saluting him, saying:  "God Bless you."  
   Talk to the people at the store, like Pete Rose talked to the first baseman.  Rose was a cool guy.  A non-crooked hustler--in many ways.  Whoops.  Got myself into trouble there.  But everything is redeemable, unless selfishness exists within--the true beast within.
   So, God has an Army.  And God is just a man.  Yeah, I'm a wacko, but I admit it Bub.  The dumb shyster at the eatery on Sunday morning called us "Church People" and all.  I prayed.  The person was gorgeous, just didn't know it.  I got my sandwich, and got the hell out of there.  
   But God has an Army.  And don't eat anywhere where you can't see them prepare your food.  
   So, God has an Army.  He's a war-torn soldier.  The best.  I really am frightened at what He will do to the selfish.  And what He will do to me.  I fear God.  And buster, so should you.  Plenty of us with sublime instinct--yeah, I'm talking to the freaks, nice guys, incarcerated, and ye who excel, because some of you aren't stupid like me.  I'm terrified at eating at TACO BELL, but I really want to.  I guess that's one of my punishments.   Still, I dream of dropping the chalupa.  Maybe my dream will come true.  Maybe not.  So, I'll go back to the WAFFLE HOUSE in the meantime.  And always order Sunny side-up, for they can drop scrambled eggs on the floor and put them right back on the plate--you'll never know it.  Be prepared.  Like a Boy Scout.  Or whatever the left call them now.  And dude, I ain't total right--I just lean that way plenty.  Not always.  I've been a bad boy.  Just ask my pet watermelon.  But I recycled it, and found an angel.  Maybe an Arch-Angel.  Maybe not.  

Sam

A surgical story

   
   "A surgical story"
   
   The doctors gave me a benzo before a surgery approximately 19 years ago, and I don't have anymore; anyway, I smoked a butt, the cherry danced, and Big Mamma pulled me into the parking garage.  After I got checked in, and in a gorgeous gown, that flattered my legs, the nurses gave me 3 more benzos.  I was supposed to fall asleep--I didn't, for I had to drain the dragon, or gleam the gerbil, or pass the fluidic flow of a piss remembered forever; next, I passed out, woke up, not lethargic, got dressed swiftly, and walked the hell out of there.
   Big Mamma took me to the pharmacy.  I smoked another cigarette.  Then, all the drugs caught up with me, and I got kinda loopy.  It was summer.  It was scalding hot, and damn southern humid--Axl Rose welcomed me to the jungle that day--yes he did; I say he did, but Slash wasn't there, nor Duff, and I always wanted to meet those guys.  
   Mom attempted to turn off the air conditioning and take the keys into the pharmacy, all while I was flopping like a frog, and coyotes can digest anything save a horny toad.  Go Hogs!
   Big Mamma said I might drive away.  I said I wouldn't.  We argued.  I got my way.  It all worked out.  Got home.  Ate a pot pie.  I think it was turkey.  I've met a few jive turkeys.  Hell, one lived in my Mom's house for a damn long time before they were asked to leave for doing not-so-nice things.
   My buddy Ham called me from Arkansas that day.  Told him I just had surgery.  He told me to not forget the old days.  To have a beer.  To not be such a wussy.  So, I did.  Good for me.  Good for you.  If you seek to do good, and not rob an old lady blind.  Where's Larry King?  Can anything get that guy to put on a sport coat?    He's a man, baby . . .

Buddy Holly, Peggy Sue (with lyrics).wmv

All My Children

   
   "All My Children"
   
   In college, an algebra teacher told me:  "Boy, you can either be here and do something with your life, or go home and watch ALL MY CHILDREN."  Susan Lucci spoke to me that day; as a result, I went home and watched ALL MY CHILDREN--worked for me.
   G. Gordon Liddy speaks to me, in the theater of my mind, is that illegal?  Regardless, he tells me:  "Mark, like me--you're vigorous, virile, and potent!!!"  Thanks GMAN.  But your genitalia is so much bigger than mine.  Then, I'm reminded of the Beach Boys--it's all good vibrations.  
   Took Mom to see the Virgin Mary statue today.  Don't tear Her down; the Queen of Angels doesn't have a sense of humor like me, schmoopy.  At least She didn't call me a schmekel.
   Live to love another day.  It's all in the reflexes, as a mighty truck driver might say.  Truck drivers have better reflexes than Navy SEALS.
   Go get them Trump.  Why the hell not.  We all got it coming.  Every man deserves his portion, and the kind man spills ten percent to the poor--I think.
  The difference between a Mercedes Benz and a cactus?  With a Mercedes, the prick is on the inside, you heard me schmekel.  This isn't even my house.  Yup, it's my Mom's.  And she loves me baby, just like Kojak.