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.  
   

Some, poison the disabled

   
   "Some, poison the disabled"
  
   It can be as simple as leaving a snot rag full of the flu virus on a cancer patient's hospital bed.  Or a peach pit thrown in the direction of a happy dog.  You're damned if you do.
   Glue in green tea.  Doubtful words over and over, as the naughty nurse sings a soul to death; next, gives false testimony, saying it was the old man's time to go, and that it was totally a love song--more like a horrendous hate song.
   People stomp on pretty flowers.  Others, tear down what they perceive to be ugly statues.  Some say the Virgin Mary was a woman with sin.  Others, make you look at imagery until you submit to their toxicity.  Physicians and their insidious assistants at the mental institutions give you amphetamines mixed with anti-psychotics; then, they tell you all the drugs are in the same class as you experience the rocky ride of monstrous mountains.
   They get to certain people, because all people aren't people, allegorically.  It's all metaphor as Joseph Campbell says, or allegory in the archaic words of Spinoza.  A saliva-duct stone, does it drop like the sound of metal?
   So many theories.  The fundamentals:  It has been written.  Is a brainwashed soul from some chanting and Bush League unlawful school worth more than a trash man who actually gives a damn about his grandma?
   And to think, we always take our eyes off Christ, because the world has so much crummy to give.