Riding the U.S.S. Lollipollipop, Esquire
Rumor has it that Speedy’s birthday was this week. Purportedly his real birthday, and not the fake birthday of several weeks back. Or something. I don’t know. Happy Birthday, Speedy, if it is indeed your birthday.
I am so confused.
There is nothing wrong with your computer monitor. You are entering a new dimensional shift. Please do not adjust your set. We control the horizontal and the vertical. We control the brightness. The contrast is all yours, baby. You are entering a dimension of blight and of bind. For the next hour, or however long it takes you to read this, we will control all that you see and read. What you hear is up to you and the kids screaming in the other room. We are not responsible for that. You are about to participate in something or other. Blah de blah blah blah. Lip balm and soda pop. You are heading into the middle ground between light and shadow into a nebulous grey area where plots and twists are common, except in today’s day and age when plots and twists are reduced down to simplified plots because TV and film executives can’t understand a plot more complex than 2 + 2 and don’t think you are any different. Thus, you don’t watch as much TV, the ratings tank, they drop good programs because nobody’s watching, but nobody’s watching because the show has been bounced to so many different days and times that no one knows when their favorite shows are on anymore though it doesn’t really matter because about the time they find it, they’ll have gone into reruns or there’ll be new episodes and people will realize they missed the first two episodes of the season so they might as well wait until the repeats to catch up, so then the ratings on new episodes go down and the shows get cancelled and the audience is like, what the frak is up with that? I liked that show. But, no matter. They don’t care about your letters and eMails anymore. They pay people to ignore those things for them. So, you’re stuck in a different dimension. A dimension of blight and of bind, but I’ve said that already. The signpost up ahead… nah, forget it. Yo, take me home to Bel-Air!
I pulled up to the house about seven of six, who really knows anymore? The GPS was broken, the batteries were down, my watch was on the back porch of some roly-poly little bat faced girl. There were hints and tints, and the colors all ran, when the Mandolin rain came pouring down, down on me. Oh, I wish it would rain down on me now. Now, now is the time when all the rhymes are busting the crimes. And the smooth operators and the yellow bananas all board the train for the snow pajamas. Who knows what’s in the city? It’s a city on a hill. We built this city on a hill on account of the flooding and jamming our strawberry bread. It’s like shattered dreams on a coal-winded day, when the clouds arise from the night-time slumber and away and away we go.
So far away, so far away from me. That’s what you are. Don’t cry no crocodile tears. Do crocodiles cry tears? What about wooly dears and bears? Have you ever seen a wooly bear? Not the caterpillar, silly, a ferocious wooly bear, like a wooly mammoth but a bear. Argh! Aghast, me maties! Ahoy! Ahoy! Take on me, take me under the pale blue sun of so long ago from now. Isn’t that ironic?
…. Best post I ever read!
(and it was the REAL one this time)
Didn’t take your meds today, did you?