![]() ![]() Comrade: Jazzsoda 2: Jazzsoda Meets the Care Bears It was the best of my love, that's all I'm saying, I'm not saying it didn't suck. True, it was the first time anybody'd ever got a hickey on their nose, probably, and nobody's idea of good times, it was a disaster, I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd need a book for that shit but I guess I was wrong. I know you said, in your eternal wisdom, it was the age of the school kids involved that was the creepiest, I thought we needed an audience and everybody else is at work in the afternoon, I'm sorry. And yeah, maybe I overbilled the event, saying it was a big deal, it was the epoch of Tupac and all that nonsense. More accurately, it was the best arguement ever for artificial insemination. I don't know, I think I got the idea on TV, despite your incredulity, it was was the season of Friends where Ros rents that redneck porno and ties off his balls with a rubber band, it was the one where they all went to the zoo, remember? But yeah, it was a little much, announcing myself as the Duke of Darkness, it was the dumbest thing I've ever paid a skywriter to write, probably. Look, I said I'm sorry. It had been a while and I was beginning to lose hope, it was the winter of '94, I think, the last time, we had everything bronzed so I remember the date pretty well, we had nothing to wear after since it was all bronzed. Remember that from my photo album? April, '94, we were all going direct to Babies 'R Us to get new clothes afterward, me, the librarian, and that big Indian who didn't say much. And that latino guy, what was he doing there? Anyway, we were all going nuts trying to find something for 300 months or older, they didn't have shit there that was in style. All of us except the Indian, he walked the other way- in the direction of the Safeway. Maybe he was too hungry to worry about being naked, I don't know. It's hard to remember that part of my life clearly, the period was so full of weird ethnic stereotypes like the present I gave to Chief, I think that was his name, I gave him a bottle of Thunderbird and a big feather hat for Christmas. Man did he kick my ass, and I had to wear that hat for two months, he'd check in on me and everything to make sure I was wearing it. That's the thing about a four-way, that some of its noisiest participants are the ones you can't get to say a word when they're not shoehorned into a Wal-Mart fitting booth. The librarian, though, she insisted on its being called a tri-way, like one of those fancy cell phones, because nobody knew where the latino guy game from. But, for good or bad, he was the one who kept running to get us more cotton candy. And he did complete the weird Village People vibe pretty well, which is fun even if the actual band was evil, in the superlative superlaxative sense of the word. No, no no, I'm not saying that I stay up at night, wondering why Chief won't respond to our yearly Christmas cards. No honey, not at all. I was just bringing up another example of disturbingly misbegotten attempts at love, for the purposes of comparison only. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was age wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch incredulity, it was was the season of Lightness, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring hope, it was the winter of dispair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest athorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. It was the best of intestinal parasites, it was the company newsletter laid out entirely in that ugly font, times, it was a Presidential election devoid of any real knowledge or semblance of wisdom, it was the age of the dinosaurs when pre-historic man ate his own dung and slept in trees, it was the epoch of wondering what the hell an "epoch" was, it was the time of funk. P-Funk. Tear the roof off the sucka. Tear the roof off the muthasucka. Tear the roof off the sucka with grave incredulity, it was was the season of Who's the Boss reruns, it was the Army of Darkness, it was the Star Wars Episode 4: A New hope, it was the winter of savings at Getty Ford and Mazda. I decided to have my nipples surgically relocated, and then, we had everything we needed to hunt down and kill Aaron Spelling. However, we had nothing on below the waist and that got us kicked out of Foot Locker. Then, we were all going direct to K-Mart dressed as Spartans, we were all going burn in Hell for our blasphemous sins and the other way- in was out. Yeah. She said, the period was so bloody she had to use two tampons. I like the present but I hope you kept the receipt because the gimp suit just won't fit me. I would like some more of, that some of its noisiest inmates were given a night to bunk with Martha Stewart and a can of lube. My unbrella insisted on its being inserted rectally, for good or evil, but mostly evil, in the superlative use of toothpaste for all hygine purposes. I have since made a clone of myself of comparison only. It was the best of James Best, it was the Dukes of Hazzard, check your local listings for times, it was cracker-barrel wisdom, it was the age of the inbred, it was the epoch of ... epoch... shit, I know what that means... it's a kind of cheese or something? Anyway, it was the middle of the day and I hadn't had an ounce of fucking sleep, if that don't test your incredulity, it was was the season of ...shit, the fourth or sixth season of Deep Space 9, I don't remember now, with the Kazon. Or was that another show? Some damn space ship show, I know, it was the one with the princess who really likes to fuck. Or maybe that was a dream I had. Did I ever tell you about it? With the Dildo of Darkness, it was the 10-foot vibrator made of anti-matter, that shit was crazy. Or maybe it was a porn movie. Boy, I hope, it was the winter of 1994 or something. I was snowed in and had rented that. I watched that shit about 90 times. Or parts of it. I don't remember how it ended, we had everything in the fridge stocked, beer and Cool Whip, and that was all we had to eat because of that fucking snowstorm, we had nothing but goldfish crackers and stale marshmallows, but you mix those together, you can at least get a wicked sugar buzz. No shit, we were all going direct to Safeway down the street as soon as the roads cleared, but after we loaded up on breath mints and bathroom cologne, we were all going down to the Wild Pussy Club, where those dancers give you the eye like they really want to get with you, but it's all so they can get lapdance money. Should I pay for a lapdance? Hell no. I got the other way- in and her name is Sally Ride. Or Sally something. We call her Sally Ride because... well, you can probably guess. It's not all that creative a nickname. But last time I saw her the period was so intense she was pissed like I'd never seen her. I couldn't get the time of day, let alone a little loving. She didn't like the present I brought of a six-pack and a tube of panty hose. They were made out of bubble wrap, just meant to be a gag gift, but I saw her a few days later and she was wearing them. Man, that some of its noisiest electric slide I've ever heard, that chunky bitch rubbing those popping bubbles together like Al-Qaeda was firing at their dancing train. They were a joke, bitch, you're not supposed to wear them. Then the whole crowd insisted on its being the best dancing train I had ever seen, despite Poppin' Polly leading the pack, for good or worse, but if you ask me, the whole damn thing was pure evil, in the superlative fucking sense of the word. I saw a better show than the Dukes of Hazzard, which is the whole point I was trying to make, and I only mentioned the other stuff out of comparison only. It was the best of the 80's, volume 1, it was the way he smiled that slow smile at times, it was utter lack of conventional wisdom, it was the age of consent and having finally reached it, it was the epoch of many kick-ass Replacements concerts, it was the complete inablility to harbor any incredulity, it was was the season of the sun, as some would say, it was the beginning of the reign of Darkness, it was the distant but unwitting blossoming of hope, it was the winter of getting a spot in the Guinness book of World Records for building the world's largest "anatomically correct" snowman, we had everything including some Cheez Whiz and a box of Ritz, we had nothing but a broken Nova and my collection of doorknobs, we were all going direct to hell, or the San Andreas fault line, whichever came first, we were all going West when everyone else was insisting that the "right" way was the other way- in truth, however, (and we're not lying--honest) the period was so fraught with certain little gremlin-elf type creature, an so much like the present state of affairs, that some of its noisiest singing fish and creampuffs insisted on its being given the award for "Best AND Worst Decade Ever", for good or in the interest of commiting, but not being punished for, supreme evil, in the superlative stupidity of daring to imply that "A Flock Of Seagulls" ever had better hair than "Duran Duran" even for the sake of comparison only. It was the best of Cream, a sweet 2-disc set I'd got for my birthday and that wanking fucker had stolen it! I didn't care that he was only three years old, it was the principle involved that really mattered, and I was going to chop his little dick off to prove my point. I've thought, at times, it was the audacity of the little bastard that kept me up at night, but I knew in my prevailing wisdom, it was the age of the little bungwipe that really got my goat. All things considered, it was the epoch of my young life, it was the worst thing that happened that week bar none, as I discovered in my incredulity, it was was the season of shit in my life. Well, anyway, in the end revenge didn't turn out to be as sweet as I intended, since little dick necklace or not I was still out a Cream CD, it was the unavoidable fact of the matter. Hence I entered a time in my life that's come to be known as the Afternoon of Darkness, it was the most soul-searching 45 minutes of my life, believe you me. And then later that year, despite my fevrent hope, it was the winter of No Cream when Christmas time came, we had everything else you could fucking want from a Christmas, the police agreed, we had nothing out of place or nothing to hide, the evidence was right there, we were all going direct to jail. As you might imagine, this inspired another 20 minutes of soul-searching on my part, wondering if I should give myself up for the chop job or let the whole family go down for the crime. In the end, I played it smart, we were all going down anyway, one way or the other way- in an eventual car crash or of inevitable heart disease or something anyway. And since I was a minor, really, my time in jail, the period was so brief and I was on mushrooms half the time, Juvy was almost like the present I never got, since my bunkmate had the same Cream CD I'd lost. And he shared my opinion, that some of its noisiest cuts were the choicest of Cream's repetoire. We only really differed on Tales of Brave Ulysses, since Jojo insisted on its being "the cream of the Cream", for good or bad, and I thought it was pretty overrated. Not entirely evil, in the superlative sense, like Brainy Smits was saying, but still pretty weak when you put it up against Spoonful, for the purposes of comparison only. Milestones1749: At this site, in 1749, nothing happened.Now HiringBag Man. Some kind of illegal-parcel-delivering hobo needed to transport sensitive packages and sleep in our dumpster. Five years dumpster-sleeping experience required. Keeping your big mouth shut skills a plus.Top 5 commune Features This Week
![]() Series 12 It is a way I have of driving off the very men who might love me, or might just want my skin to make a couch, which it really does beautifully and is good for decor, and regulating the color balance of the room. An insane interior decorator told me that once. (6/28/04) Series 11 "That was a good first day," God said to no one in particular, for He was the only being that existed at that time. And so, He did rest. (6/1/03) Series 10 Patrick Henry, leader and orator in the first season of the popular television show "Podium? I Hardly Know Him!", quit the show after the producers refused to change the title. (2/3/03) Series 9 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." (8/17/02) 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) ![]() ![]() ![]() |