Comrade:  Generik

   I have a sinking, queasy, kind of squishy feeling that one day Martha Stewart will rise up and live out the true meaning of Armageddon: "We hold these promises of the end of the world and the ultimate destruction of all mankind and all its puny works to be just like Martha says - 'A good thing.' And we would like to add one caveat to the pronouncement of the Martha-AntiChrist: that all men are really tasty with just a light coating of sea salt, flour and asbestos."

   I have a dream that bluebirds sing far beyond the red hills of Martha's ass-cheeks, I mean way, way beyond, because God knows there aren't any damn birds singing within fifty miles of those saggy, overworked flesh-melons, kneaded and poked repeatedly as they have been by the sons of former she-males, you know, chicks with dicks, and the sons of former Republican ass-wipes like Bush and Cheney and Ashcroft and that loony bunch, they're probably far too sore for her to say that she will be able to sit down together at the cosmic equivalent of the Nuremberg Trials and defend herself for all her rapaciousness and just general all-around evilness.

   I have a very upset stomach, that one shot of bad tequila would surely send over the edge, and produce a spewing vomit that even the state of Utah, a notoriously nauseating, festering state, sweltering with the heat of millions of procreating Mormons busy proselytizing each other and drinking coffee on the sly wouldn't cure; but I am heartened to think that all that vomit, disgusting as it is, will be transformed into party favors and dip by Martha.

   I repeatedly have a dream that my four testicles will one day live in a condo overlooking Central Park - at least until the Apocalypse - where they will not be distracted, or otherwise kept from their jizz-producing mission, but will be fondled and valued highly by the color of their scrotal sac, and not judged for their enormous size and unusual number, but by the content of their huge vas deferens, especially when all that built-up semen goes squirting away in Martha's face at the precise moment when Armageddon begins and Gabriel blows his horn, if you'll pardon the pun.

   I have a a pretty good-sized hard-on today. 

08/17/2002

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Comrade:  spud

   I have a funny feeling in my pants that one day something hidious and disformed will rise up and live out the true meaning of the word all you can eat buffet, but only after: "We hold these smoke sessions where me and my friends tend to be a little stranger than normal, and they alwyas skip me in the circle, and i really hate that because i belive: that all men are obligated to puff puff pass."

   I have a dream that there is this snowman that walks around on spider legs and sings really shitty renditions of old pink floyd songs and talks about how he always walks around in the red hills of the north pole, but isnt the north pole all frozen i ask? and he says that the sons of former midget transexuals have moved up there and that the north pole just hasnt been the same, so he and the sons of former rape victoms talk about how one day they will be able to sit down together at the round table and contemplate the mysteries of the universe, strange dream huh?.

   I have a problem with all this pro choice shit, i mean does it really matter that one in every 3 women will have and abortion? i mean hell, those kids would probably grow up to be assholes anyways, i mean even the state of texas, with such a stronghold in the belifes of public execution would agree with me on that, a bloodthirsty state, sweltering with the heat of leathal injections, and electrocutions, will be transformed into a paradise for the criminally insane.

   I pray for a dream that my four lesbian, totally hot next door neighbers will one day live in a house made of glass where they will not be able to pull down the blinds everytime they start feeling the need to act out wild fantasies about me while i watch from the tree in their front yard, and i wont have to imagine what they look like naked  by the color of their skimpy underwear, but by the content of their god given assets,ooooh.

   I have a this sinking suspicion that i am being watched today. 

07/30/2002

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Comrade:  LongLiveRock

   I have a thought that one day SNL will rise up and live out the true meaning of what it once was: "We hold these Not Ready for Prime Players to be better then the people you have now: that all men are not as talented as John Belushi."

   I have a dream that Britney Spears will fall the red hills of her own body the sons of former Rock musicans and the sons of former uh other rock musicans will be able to sit down together at the unemployment office.

   I have a n imagnary thought that one thought even the state of Calfornia, a ugly state, sweltering with the heat of smog, earthquakes and riots, will be transformed into well, it will just stay the same.

   I have a crazy thought a dream that my four breast will one day live in a jar where they will not be looked at  by the color of their ugly body tissue but by the content of their breasty selves.

   I have a dog, if he's yours why don't you call me today. 

06/11/2002

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Comrade:  Rey Nards

   I have a drawer full of movie ticket stubs that one day their collector value will rise up and live out the true meaning of some stupid crap that a bunch of pathetic losers with nothing else to do will impose some ridiculous monetary value on: "We hold these pieces of paper to be of great intangible value: that all men are not in possession of one of these, and therefore we feel special for having them."

   I have a dream that I was falling and falling and falling and I forgot to study and I was naked and my fifth grade teacher and that guy from CNN were laughing at me and there were phallic symbols growing everywhere out of the red hills of land polluted by that food dye that caused cancer in all those Pennsylvania kids who were the sons of former confectioners and chemical warfare developers and the sons of former , I mean the former, or is it the latter, I always get those two mixed up, will be able to sit down together at the food court of the labyrinthine shopping mall that I spent most of the dream trying to find a way out of.

   I have a bike for sale, '83 Huffy with a banana seat, $75 or the best offer that one bicycle conosseiur who may not be blessed with a great amount of disposable income in even the state of Wyoming, I ain't predjudiced, even though it may be, a backwards state, sweltering with the heat of the passion that those people have for their sheep, and I don't mean the literary kind of passion, nosiree, will be transformed into a uh...werewolf? Sorry, I lost myself for a second there, what was I talking about? Oh yes...

   I may have at one point had a dream that my four cousins from Wyoming will one day live in a more cosmopolitan state, like New Mexico, where they will not be beaten for listening to their Cure records, by the color of their pubic hair, dagnabbit, that's a homespun Wyoming expression by the way, but by the content of their web sites, they will not be judged as troglodytes or AOL users.

   I have a nap today. 

05/09/2002

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Comrade:  UnReality

   I have a wart on my inner thigh. It itches sometimes, but the doctors say that one day it will go away. Of course, before that, it will rise up and live out the true meaning of Christmas, which I keep telling them is a funny thing for a wart to do, and just hand me the ointment, but they're doctors and say they know better. They say: "We hold these pliers, see? And one misstep, one false move, is to be your last. Your last, you see? Muhahaha!" They laugh, just like that, and I finally realize: that all men are is dust, dust in the wind. But the doctors just say, "Drop your drawers and shaddup."

   I have a dream that I'm naked, and it's the first day of class, which is weird, because my only school was the red hills of Mars. That's right. Mars. You got a problem with that, Earthman? You and the sons of former teen sensation Fabian and the sons of former Wisconsin senator...oh...what's his name? The guy with the hat... Well, anyway, you will be able to sit down together at Christmas and know that, if nothing else, at least there will be pie.

   I have a question for you: who's that girl over there? No, that one over there, in the third row, in the green dress and big ba -- hey, look, even the state of the union can wait while I check out my constituents, can't it? After all, a little dab will do ya. I'd like to add, if I may, that Nevada is a state, sweltering with the heat of a thousand suns, which, ultimately, will be transformed into Bob Peterson from Secaucus, New Jersey. I'm unclear just how, but then physics was never my bag.

   I think maybe my advisors were right, and maybe I should have worn pants today, and maybe  a dream that my four fingers on my left hand will one day live in a thumbless utopia after a bloody, bloody coup probably is a sure sign of mental illness. But enough of that. To business. My vision is of a world where little bunny rabbits need not fear, metaphorically speaking, the jabbering slackjawed yokel with the homemade whiskey and gun, where they will not be hunted for sport or made to perform like circus animals. No, I swear that, by the color of their fluffy coats, they will go free. They should be judged not just with a cursory glance but by the content of their stool samples.

   I have a strong suspicion I forgot to take my medication today. 

04/29/2002

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Comrade:  

   I have a wart on my inner thigh. It itches sometimes, but the doctors say that one day it will go away. Of course, before that, it will rise up and live out the true meaning of Christmas, which I keep telling them is a funny thing for a wart to do, and just hand me the ointment, but they're doctors and say they know better. They say: "We hold these pliers, see? And one misstep, one false move, is to be your last. Your last, you see? Muhahaha!" They laugh, just like that, and I finally realize: that all men are is dust, dust in the wind. But the doctors just say, "Drop your drawers and shaddup."

   I have a dream that I'm naked, and it's the first day of class, which is weird, because my only school was the red hills of Mars. That's right. Mars. You got a problem with that, Earthman? You and the sons of former teen sensation Fabian and the sons of former Wisconsin senator...oh...what's his name? The guy with the hat... Well, anyway, you will be able to sit down together at Christmas and know that, if nothing else, at least there will be pie.

   I have a question for you: who's that girl over there? No, that one over there, in the third row, in the green dress and big ba -- hey, look, even the state of the union can wait while I check out my constituents, can't it? After all, a little dab will do ya. I'd like to add, if I may, that Nevada is a state, sweltering with the heat of a thousand suns, which, ultimately, will be transformed into Bob Peterson from Secaucus, New Jersey. I'm unclear just how, but then physics was never my bag.

   I think maybe my advisors were right, and maybe I should have worn pants today, and maybe  a dream that my four fingers on my left hand will one day live in a thumbless utopia after a bloody, bloody coup probably is a sure sign of mental illness. But enough of that. To business. My vision is of a world where little bunny rabbits need not fear, metaphorically speaking, the jabbering slackjawed yokel with the homemade whiskey and gun, where they will not be hunted for sport or made to perform like circus animals. No, I swear that, by the color of their fluffy coats, they will go free. They should be judged not just with a cursory glance but by the content of their stool samples.

   I have a strong suspicion I forgot to take my medication today. 

04/29/2002

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Comrade:  psychomorph

   I have a Nutter-Butter Peanut Bar that one day though found under the seat cushions will rise up and live out the true meaning of family values: "We hold these feces in our invisible hand to be eaten or be eaten: that all men are ...in the end...Soylent Green."

   I have a dream that voles in sweater vests aimlessly roam the red hills of of the Land ofThe Ant People, where the sons of former unelected U.S. presidents and the sons of former butt-scratchers will be able to sit down together at the toilet, and drink.

   I have a nosebleed that one booger as big as even the state of Texas, a booger-pickin' state, sweltering with the heat of cow dung, will be transformed into a new subdivsion called "Redrum, REDRUM".

   I remember a dream that my four radioactive mole people neighbors will one day live in a McDonald's where they will not be warned by the color of their Homeland Security swatches but by the content of their intestines.

   I have a Pepsi today. 

04/03/2002

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Comrade:  UpSky2

   I have a hunch that one day Jesus will rise up and live out the true meaning of grape juice: "We hold these knuckleknobs to be cheesily obvious: that all men are patented."

   I have a dream that mares upon the red hills of California, and the sons of former garbage-disposal repairmen and the sons of former insurance salesmen will be able to sit down together at Starbucks... there WILL be a Starbucks! Its no dream.

   I have a faroff fear that one millisecond even the state of Idaho, a mundane and potatoey state, sweltering with the heat of the forty-fifth parallel, will be transformed into good real-estate, and a place where future Hemingways won't commit suicide.

   I eat a dream that my four corners of the Earth will one day live in a hutch where they will not be crazed by the color of their noses but by the content of their drinks.

   I have a manifesto today. 

03/22/2002

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Comrade:  Shampoo

   I have a poodle that one day started walking and saying it will rise up and live out the true meaning of Moonlighting: "We hold these episodes to be copied: that all men are making bad copies of Moonlighting."

   I have a dream that Heart 2 Heart will be sold in  the red hills of the planet Eternia and that  the sons of former Master of the Universe Skelator and the sons of former Tom Hanks body double Flip Jenkins will be able to sit down together at once but in one chair.

   I have a hankering for a hunk of cheese far greater than  that one French guy that  even the state of milk and dairy, a smelly state, sweltering with the heat of cows, will be transformed into cottage cheese.

   I was scared by a dream that my four wives will one day live in a trailer where they will not be living and this will be known by the color of their flesh. I love you but by the content of their letters I must leave you now.

   I have a tooth ache today. 

03/13/2002

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Comrade:  Hippie

   I have a sandwich around here somewhere, made for that one day I really want an egg salad and cheese sandwich and I have not the materials to make it. I worry it will rise up and live out the true meaning of "my lunch disagrees with me." But I eat anyway, because of something my dad told me: "We hold these sandwiches too long they're going to attract flies. And respect your momma, boy, it's not your job to be some sort of asshole telling her the business all day, that's my job. Like your momma says: that all men are interested in one thing is a given."

   I have a dream that I'm in the A-Team, but instead of the regular A-Team it's all my high school teachers, even that hillbilly from the red hills of where the hell ever, you know, Mr. Bediddle, that shop teacher, all his family were the sons of former paint huffers or something and the sons of former lumberjacks were all his sisters. Man, I'm hungry. You hungry? When will be able to sit down together at the table for five minutes to eat without you talking about your damn infected toe or something? I'm hungry.

   I have a candy bar, you want to split it? It's that one cheese and nut or whatever candy bar even the state of Missouri banned from supermarket shelves, and you got a long way to go to fail Missouri shopping market standards, a big old retarded state, sweltering with the heat of gas fumes and tire fires makes an entire state stupid, I guess, never would have believed it, but maybe one day the whole dumb state, if you can call it that, will be transformed into Alabama and finally be able to tie it's shoelaces and not fart at the dinner table.

   I am still hungry! Damn. Let's get something to eat. And if you tell me about a dream that my four uncles formed a boy band and will one day live in a tree fort in the backyard, where they will not be able to get down and you have to shoot food to them from a cannon, I heard that dream five hundred times too many. That candy bar's bad, I think, and so are those olives I was going to eat, judging by the color of their brown pimentos. I might still eat 'em, I'm so damn hungry, the outside looks green, but by the content of their insides I'm about to throw up..

   I have a lunch appointment in a few hours so I guess I'll wait till then to eat. As long as I get some goldarn food today. 

02/28/2002

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Comrade:  Jazzsoda

   I have a weird ache in my armpit, I'm not sure if it's from playing tennis or from the time I feel off that Vespa, but anyway it's got me paranoid that one day my arm is just going to fall off, out of the blue, and then I'm going to suck at "pattycake". Then some snotty little kid will rise up and live out the true meaning of the term "pattycake protege asshole," winning all of the local tournaments and having his ass kissed so much he starts making pretentious speeches in public, like: "We hold these hands, and with them we pat the cake, for the baker man and for the common man alike, for the lesson to be learnt by all people, be they tall or taller, small or ugly: that all men are too slow at baking cakes."

   I have a dream that there's this bizarre hindu guy chasing me through the red hills of Mikhail Gorbachev's assfat, where I meet the sons of former Beatles and the sons of former rock legends of the 60's, who tell me that that one day they will be able to sit down together at a quarter to two in the afternoon and write a song that is somewhat less than awful.

   I have a coat made out of odd-sized patches of vynl, I have no idea where it came from, I think it may have been left here by someone who was here for that one party I threw when I moved into this apartment. Talk about a bunch of rejects that even the state of Idaho would turn away, a truly amazing claim considering that Idaho is known as the most accepting state, sweltering with the heat of basketball teams from Miami, who are lost on their way to Portland, who if they dare stop the bus, will be transformed into potential buyers of potato-powered clocks.

   I remember a dream that my four best friends told me about, they all had it simultaneously and told me that it was about beating me with a rubber hose at a horse farm. Come to think of it that kind of creeped me out and ruined my plan that I will one day live in a stable at a horse farm where they will not be beating me with hoses and shit like that. And I could tell by the color of their shopping bags that they already had the hoses purchased. I should have taken them more seriously, for now I know they really were serious. Not really from anything they've said, but but by the content of their Chevy's trunk, and the road noises outside that definitely seem to indicate that the horse farm is near.

   I have a nagging feeling I should have worn my running shoes today. 

02/27/2002

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Series 8
Four plus seventeen is twenty-one and seven plus twelve is nineteen. Now that I've astounded you with my mathematical prowess, my dear, let's move on. (2/8/02)

Series 7
South Yonkers, NY, a quaint little suburb with tree-lined streets and the cutest little duplexes you ever did se-AKK! He's eating my toe! AH! Oh, the humanity! I'll never play footsie again... oooh. (10/26/01)

Series 6
Broad confidence in spite of having your ass kicked daily by a pack of underfed third-graders is an almost sure sign that you're Baltimore-area loser Tom Friendly. (8/1/01)

Series 5
Some of the prisoners ate it, after the other prisoners sevened it and then jumped over it, the clever bastards. (4/20/00)

Series 4
David Fairchild's a tough cop who plays by his own rules, and he's being hunted by bounty hunters who make bugs seem to skitter right off the potato salad at the picnic, if you know what we mean. (6/19/99)