George Hamilton KFC Extra Crispy Kentucky Fried Chicken TV Commercial 2017

Pious Bastard--it takes 2, not 3

 
   "Pious Bastard--it takes 2, not 3"
   
   So, he gets horny.  Would've been better if he just had one, but what a hunt from envy; regardless, the Book of Tobit explains matrimony--at its best.  How boring.  We find God, we get bored.  Not all of us.  The family can we see too.  The angels, saints, confessors, and all the rest.  We have a family, so we can see a glimpse of God, like unto a hind-quarter.  
   People get bored with duty.  The scrotum nags like a wicked wife.  Oh honey, he cheated on you--nail his ass.  Oh, I love you cool guy, she won't make you feel like I do, spoiling you tomb-ways. 
    From the womb to the tomb--disruption.  Did we not ask for this?  Many.
   Stay out of their singular attachment--themselves.  It takes two for romance, not three.  Holy Fire, if you think you're soooo damn cute; next, relieve yourself with a piece of fruit and thank the farmers in America--don't destroy a family, a true family; however, girlfriends, even the spouse, are at fault as well, bad-mouthing the bed they made, whimpering over a partner not perfect.  Who the hell is perfect save Christ?  He was too damn wise to get involved in carnal cravings.  You think so.  Your world is right, allegorically; at the same time, so ever wrong.  And yes, a virgin can kiss a child on the mouth--only to remind him, so that he never forgets.  Like a classy slap to the skull.  Good for her.  
   

Angel vs. Man: Jango/Obi-Wan

 
   "Angel vs. Man:  Jango/Obi-Wan"
   
   Their first encounter.  Cramped.  Polite.  A Personal Jesus.  A meek Christ.  And the Angel has higher frequency.  Must control himself, or be a rage machine.  Stay off the roids, kids.  Too, the Angel can read the man, if trained.  Realize it's the man's trepidation that makes his ownself taste a portion of phobic fright.  It goes both ways.  But the Man, in close quarters--is a savage.  Could head-butt the Angel by dulling his own lesser sensitivity.  
   It goes on and on and on, yet they had it out.  Equally matched.  Never can tell, says Jack Burton; indeed, the little old lady can slay a werewolf, for she might be carrying a double-pump full of pernicious pellets behind her desk.  We are not equally matched, from the outside nor in; on the contrary, the Man arms himself, wisely, as does the wise Angel.  And both can be living weapons.
   I got all of this from Attack of the Clones?  It was an underappreciated piece of art.  Like Kentucky Fried Chicken commercials.  Extra-crispy chicken.  Need a bucket of the Colonel.  Hell boy, in Little Rock during the late 1980's, we had a local hillbilly dubbed THE GENERAL, and he didn't wear any decorative ribbons or a fancy suit.  Said:  "Screw the Colonel, boy.  Come see the General."  My ex-wife's Mom knew him.  How typical.  Sucks to be me, sometimes.  You too, sometimes.  So, we are men and angels, living together.  

Hope Dad is not watching

 
   "Hope Dad is not watching"
   
   From the genesis, woken up to fabrication, exploitation, manipulation, and the erasing of folks and their internal selves; thus, the Mockingbird cries, yet somehow, remembers.  All that money and control . . .
   Just trucks, flags, breaking bread with the Gentiles, and offering a shock of witness, nothing more than a portion of ourselves, whatever that is, and we kinda know.
   Heavens first; next, here.  All connected, yet their glamour done gone goofball, and in the Heavens, like a football game on Friday--high school, no pressure Chief, and none.  The blonde cheerleader--come on, not you mousy-brown girls, the real blondes, ya know.  But it's all nice, if aligned with the process of a free will free-falling forward.  
   And to think that NASCAR doesn't have more, or any, inside tracks.  What a show.  And the purple pollution of it all.  Buddy Baker?  Was that his name?  And number 43.  
   

Trust the milkman; don't trust the milkman

 
   "Trust the milkman; don't trust the milkman"
   
   Al Bundy knew of alien women.  Knew they had three breasts.  One on the back for dancing; indeed, I'm a student of history, boy.  Got me some tobaccee for my corn cob pipe and pappy.  
   Is pappy not so nice?  Shucks, gonna put the government in charge of grandma.  Gonna make her like Jango's ship:  SLAVE ONE.  Damn boy, Lando can't freeze everything, like James Dean in dat flick dubbed East of Eden, when they froze 'em some cabbage and kraut.  Krauts have always been frozen.  Blue steel in their frigid blood.  She won't even date Brad Pitt.  Good for her.  She likes her cigarettes and hot java, Maxwell House, with a box of chocolate-smeared cherries, and no--she cannot tie the cherry stem into a knot by way of oral persuasion, for that talent is reserved for tramps and toddlers, so innocent, before you corrupt their baby fat.
   Most people wear glasses to look smart.  Morphs you into a goblin, for ALL to see.  Unlike Air Force Intelligence--that Joint Chief of Staff might like a joint, for he's a Chief, and Chiefs inhale the Otherworld; next, exhale sublimity into the cruel world, just to give the Little Wolf a fighting chance.
   And God crafted coyote.  What a bird.  Don't have a bird, dude.  Whatever you do--don't have a bird, okay, sugar . . . 

CAMARO SS VS. BOSS 302

The Phantom Menace--symbolism of Amidala & Skywalker

 
   "The Phantom Menace--symbolism of Amidala & Skywalker"
   
   Fleur-de-lis, of course.  The red, that scarlet bride.  The other virgins.  The virgin birth.  Some say there were over 40 virgin births in America recently.  Parthenogenesis (spell'n?) I'm talk'n.  
   The beauty of a bride in waiting.  The movie is a little wacky, with a type of fish person; however, we hear of blood types, possibly.  A Grail thingamajig. 
   Not going further.  Purple eyes, hazel eyes, albino skin, rare blood, firetrucks, hookers, Charlie Sheen, and Pee-Wee Herman--it's all real, fella.  Stay calm and carry a lightsaber--some dude posted that years ago.  Not my original material.  But it has all been said before.  Olive farmers in Old Testament times, some, knew what was going on; moreover, all about the crooked system, and a denial of the Ultimate Super-Being, so simplistic, so much having made man in His Own Image.
   They need to make classic muscle cars again.  Re-produce Boss 302's from 1969--identical to the way they were forged.  Go old school.  Make Pony gallop again.  Hit sixty in a safe 5 flat, and who needs to top end over 130 anyway?  If you do, craft the behemoth Boss 429, made for ultra-high speed cruising.  That doesn't sound right, or looks, my words I mean.
   Got a SUBWAY tonight.  Still too much trepidation concerning TACO BELL.  Bubba Cheese watched a Western.  It's good to remember what you are, and where you came from.  Go on innate instinct, for some.