Pious Santa

   
   "Pious Santa"
  
   Down in the damned dirty south, summertime absent, replaced by just a hint of Yankee weather, girls and snuggled blue-jeans in tight strut through the crowded real estate of suburban sprawl, and while not thinking about how to crack the planet Earth in half with chaotic frequency, though it is protected by a Golden Space Dome, more or less, Nikola of Middle TN. was in search of a Serbian Orthodox Church, and though his Pap was Catholic, Nikola loved the idea of Theotokos, knowing a mother will give you her last dollar, him having learned that from a redneck in Arkansas, armed with a V-8 in his carport, Old Glory hanging, kinda bangled.  
   Anyway, this dude of no renown, noticed only for his Proust-like mustache and attempts at dandyism, mimicked Joyce in his diary, or made a brave pursuit in doing so; still, there was none other than his pet sugar-glider, the flying pseudo-hamster always upon his right shoulder, as if a furry parrot that displayed no speech, those frequently picked up vibrations, seen by illogical minds, like tasting colors, and the sugar-glider was named Betsy.
   It was approaching Christmas, on the calendar, and--in the air.  Seemed a bit frosty.  

The Fall Guy Intro

Genuflection

   
   "Genuflection"
  
   This one girl, back @ junior high, yonder thataway--way back then; anyway, she'd overly genuflect, in all scenarios.  @ Mass, which was pretty cool, following the proper protocols for someone schooled in Catholicism; however, she may have even taken her genuflection to the playground, where @ around pubescence, we talked more than acted like zoo animals on the instruments of action.  
   Genuflecting was her super power.  She designed the school logo, one of them, in the seventh grade.  Another girl, an Irish Catholic, got ten Hail Marys or so after Confession.  Everybody was gawking @ her, wondering what she had done to deserve so much prayerful penance.  I knew what she did--she told the truth.  I always liked her, as a sister, ya know.  
   Nothing wrong with back to the future travels.  If you go to the right places.  Even the 1950's.  Like eating @ SONIC, and enjoying the frigid blast of Winter as you roll down the windows, ignite the internal cockpit light, and eat some mildly greasy good times--and always get some onions on your burger, in my opinion.  

Any Which Way You Can - Trailer

Don't neglect Her beauty

 
   "Don't neglect Her beauty"
   
   Old school.  I get it.  Me too.  On the flip side, get vibrant.  Show me the colors.  Hues.  A pink flamingo in front yard, not for the metaphysics of it, but it looks damn cool.  Want Pink Panther in our attic, Daddy; specifically, I liked the commercials, yonder yesteryear.  
   Don't steal the Virgin Mary's beauty.  Why make Her an old grandma, when even if, grandmas are sophisticated and have healing properties?  It's in their blood.  The blood that gave you, and Her Son, partial life, united with the Eternal.
   I like the archaic imagery; however, new artists are great.  So great.  These picture-painters have the MOST talent in my mind.  How fantastic to be able to draw your visions or emotions.  I understand some of the new theological art.  Some is beyond me.  It is beauty.  Artists of the brush are the greatest teachers--with just one image.  
  

A sneeze, like unto a carnal climax

   
   "A sneeze, like unto a carnal climax"
  
   The most stupid a man looks is when he has a carnal climax.  He looks like a groaning, elated idiot; specifically, he distorts into a deflated weenie of wondrous woes.  
   My step-dad sneezes all the time.  The sneeze travels faster than light-speed.  Wends its way further than a Rugby field.  No pads involved.  And when he sneezes, he enjoys it.  I tell him that he should smoke a cigarette after his multi-orgasmic sneezes, to enjoy the sensation all the more.
   Many a contagious sneeze has killed an infant with a compromised immune system.  Sneeze in your sleeve; next, wash your damn shirt, and put some salt water in the laundry.  
   How long will you have me with you?  Have you not learned?  
   What's wrong with taking a shower, anointing yourself with lavender, burning myrrh (smoke purifies), and putting cloves of garlic in your hamburger meat?  
   I still can't go to TACO BELL.  It just smells like my grandmother's resonating gas, forced out, with the ripple effect, caused by cottage cheese butt-cheeks.  And my grandma would tell ya:  "I'm as clean as a whistle."  

Passion vs. Transfiguration

   
   "Passion vs. Transfiguration"
   
   Catholics--Passion.  Orthodox--Transfiguration.  So I hear in my world.  How many different flavors of Colonel Sanders will they get?
   A ride with Saint Francis will teach you plenty, boy.  A Crusader @ first; next, an appearance in ROBIN HOOD with the Friar, as his Sainthood does resiliently resonate.  The city.  Always the city.
   City of industry.  The machines, smoke, steel, and hookers out for an easy buck and to slash your throat chakras, metaphorically.  Or your higher self, is wiser.
   And they label you, when their skeletons should be let loose.  They have them.  Wicked, as they paint you their color.  Haters--and the courts of Saint Joan of Arc know it.  We are swooned into heinous hate and iniquitous envy, when Lincoln's hat was bigger, though not better, than a derby.
   The dandy dude dawned a derby, dynamite holstered.  Saw a Steve McQueen movie today.  Dude was pretty tough.  Pretty tough.  Then came Bronson, on a motorcycle.  The television show, I'm talk'n.
   A Coach can be just as persuasive as a Priest.  Maybe I just didn't listen, maybe.