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Yimmer-Yammer? What in thee goddamn hell is Yimmer-Yammer? Everything is going by too goddamn fast. I can't keep up & i sure as hell can't catch up. Right? Why, of course not, meesays... previously, in the first of these two lives... right? Shuush... crash-boom-bang... bee, bee righteous. Eat the ticket, take the ride. Right? No? Okay, then... wait three weeks, take to the post office. Right? Battle Creek, MI, right? "Well, what have we here? A request from Master Carlin... get this off right away." And it's some sort of pimple-peeler thing-a-ma-bob. HOLY-SHEEAT?!? Right? "Mmmmm, indeed," he spoke, needling his remote. Holy-Crizap. What? That's legit, right? Evil doesn't pass the vein, does it? Peter Griffin. Do something, round up a posse. I'm not quite sure about Jibber-Jabber. But Yimmer-Yammer, i'm pretty sure about that one. About %99.87 chance. "Hey there, ya know about gingy-vitus?" I can't stop... right? "That don't make NO SENSE!" I'm not sure if my hands can keep up with my mind. I can't type that goddamn fast. I can't even talk that fast, & goddamit, i'm fucking trying - BIATCH! Pussytrator. Damn it, Day-Z... stop chewing on me. Alrighty-whitey-tighty. I'm far from being around okay... or ahh-ight. The cat done lick the dog. The leaves are fallin' up. Grandma's hittin' on the heavy bag. So Japanese. Okay, the sleeves are up. Big Brother & The Holding Company are in the driver's seat. Janis, in effect. A "Combination Of The Two", so to speak. The litany's there, it's just not quite so transparent. The cat's done, he know... Eli's feeling the funny feeling, if ya know what i mean. Right? Everyone over at the Avalon Ballroom... if you can dig it. Ha ha. Selah & the Seven Seas Of Rhye. That's some Norman Greenbaum type shit, right there... twist it... twist it... twist it... twist it... on & on. For crizape's sake. Doesn't matter where ya come from. Only matter where ya been. For me, i've been around. I've been leaving little parts of my beard all over the country. Russia, even. That's a flake-and-a-half-off, for certain. I think Eli's takin' it all in. I think he "gets it", so to speak. He's either been there before or he hasn't. Doesn't matter. I didn't even need to type that out. But i did. Did it, can't stop me, can't go back. Actually, you can. I'm always goin' back. Did it just right there... & again & again & again. Ma-hu-ja-deen... mujaheely. My goddamn eyes are burning. Queer cops are burning... jellified monsters of the midway. Eaten to death. Life without parole. One hundred consecutive life sentences. No parole... why would ya, anyway? Right? Indeed. I can't stop it... i can't change it. For score & twenty years ago. I got hair of the dog - doggy - dog - doggy - dog. Come on & take it, bre-atch. Brack. Pat, bat, swipe. Shrill of the crown. Eighteen wheels, all the way to Wheeling, WV. Fargo, ND. Toledo, OH. Backwoods Arkansas town. Truckin' convey, all the way to the "heart-o-the matter", as it were. "If there's one thing you can't lose... it's that feeeeeel." It's all in the back-up. At least mostly. Far back, centuries ago... cemeteries ago. Biological descriptions inherit. Hell in Limbo, Purgatory with a steak-mitt. Skull bones chipped as though they were elbow joints. Nothing but the bones. Eyeball Kid & the World Is Green. DREAMIN' OF YOU. Pits on fire, need the squirt. The 8-arm wonderlung. Eighteen wheels, eight arms. Upside down-ed upside down cake. Eight mile a road. Fourteen hundred Mex-o-Americans changing the channel at the same time (18-to-30's, of course). Nielsen, Schmeelson... right? Did i learn to read, or did read learn i did. Bortunate. Flatulence. Arrogance, or dissipation... masturbate my contemptment. Fingers to the bone, nose to the grindstone. That took a long-ass time, the line prior. Down-home, bluesy kinda feel. Partitioned. Fenced... faggotty college activity. Dress up in skirts... Never leave you high & dry. I'm all alone. I can't stop, can't slow down. Mind spinning. Head ringin'... "Huh?" Don't get that at all... can't locate that factoid, so to speak. Break in the action for some touch... rub the hands together... beard it. BOARDS! Damn! That triangle fucked me the hell up! Maybe it was a cymbal. It kicked me straight in the pupil. Made it lactate. Originate. Rhymin' on the funk. Lookey here. Loungey, again... if that was a choice from before. Spent piece of used jet-trash. Formica. Picked up a couple of Mickey's Big Mouths..... TORCHED IT!!! Halloween orange & Chimney red. "Death is a whore who consults with all men." - L. Hughes Shore-leave wristwatch. Tycandarogga. Tom Waits is squeezing my brain until it was jelly. He is totally fucking me up right now. I am totally dominated by my ear-stuffs. My wristwatch is Green, but i don't even have one on. 400 bone cycles. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Kommienezuspadt. Enough, enough of that. On to the FUNK. The fucking funk, fuckers. Talkin' bout be "Up For The Down Stroke". Robottin' it all the way out to the parking lot. Lawn seat for tonight's show. It's bound to be a doosey. Eighteen ways to blow your freaking mind. Endless summer, Indian Winter. Beck-type dancing. Cat's over there lickin' the bowl. Better go get him some food... right? "SNRAAAAAAAAACKKK..." "Havin' a party, y'all." "Every body's gotta get the shit... on W-BALLZ, W-BALLZ, W-BALLZ." - S. Dogg "Make my funk the P. Funk... i wants my funk uncut... to get funked up." That's my take on it. Rheumatoid, asteroid... move & re-move. On to Sly & The Family Stone. "Don't call me nigger, whitey. Don't call me whitey, nigger." That's some deep-ass shit. And not doody. Or duty. "Don't call me N, W. Don't call me W, N." Shuck-a-cong-cong-conk. Buddonka-donk. Ba-dunk-a-dunk. Eat tread... junk in the trizunk. Five button meal. Flip-flop, dolly-wop, wizza-punkin-naster-wad. Weeby, woozy... i ate a doozy. Alright, shit's not cool anymore. I'm fucked up & that's it. That's the ticket. Eat it, biatch! Drop front. Off & off, front & back... going off in cyclone rejections. Far apart, but not in the minutes. It makes no sense if it's off, right on? Answer... answer the answer-man. He never did show up. Alcoholic bastard bitch boy. "I am an American aquarium-drinker." That's quite a lead-off line, there, Roger Wilco. Eight-ball, quarter pocket. "Mother is the Quintessential artistic Lead-Off, good night sir, with love." - some fucked up guy sitting on the curb as i walked past, eating my Frapaccino delight Touchdowns are universal, but NASA's the man, right? Indeed... if you're the Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid kinda jaggoff. Jackson City, man! Nineteen dragged to death under the Welcome Wagon. Trippy stuff, eat the ride, take the byway. Discombobulated dyslexia. Antwerp, Scotland. I can't take it. Ba, ba, buh-ba. Drum that shit!!! "I'll go on your grill & take your chicken." - Andy the Spic Great greepin' cheepers. Rap time... Stanklove. Momma's mommas. Momma's momma's mommas. I am for real, but don't believe it. I can go over it & over it, but you'll never get it. Disinvited. Fast, fast, fast. Keep the speed up... need to stop stopping. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go... on & on & on & on, etc. Ghetto Fabulous, indeed. Boi! Plan it. Plan for it, actually. Actwo-a-lee. Form it, mouth out. How appropriate, right? Typin' on a compruter. Slow the pace, right back to the front. "I caught 'im with the front." - Charlie Murphy "Damn you, Eddie Murphy! What i'm gonna do bout my LEGS?!?" - Rick James, biatch I'm about the get all googally. Doin' the finger waggle on the lip thing. That would not be a pretty sight, although i'd probably shit myself. Humour. Alright, now we're in to some old school, gettin' down on the Wheels Of Steel, type shit. D.J. Jazzy Jeff! Brand New Funk. Always doin' the Robot. I never did it back then. Blandness, tacky. Wacky-tobaccy. Let me check my Sced-u-whal. "D.J. On The Wheels". Ferocious attack. Attached. Spell-check, where are you now? "Oh my GOD!" - piano-fell-on guy Exterminate all rational thought. William, how goes it? Kutt-me-ak. The Magnificent. Hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy, hominy... on & on. Hello? Can anybody hear me? Fuck! That is some bad-ass scratchin'... BIATCH! Caught him with the front. I'm drummin' it out again. Faggotty ass shit. Bend that shit over, a talking asshole? Trapper John, M.D. No more breaks. Brakes. Can't stop, gotta stop that shit. Fucky, fuck-ass, fuck. "Yes or no. Was it good? Yes... or no." - questions guy Ring the alarm clock... backed in. Strokemeister. Stroke-Master Flash. Skin Master Stroke. Elgin Strokes-a-lot. Fortified milk compound, 3% nasty. Back-slash, colon, polyp. Frizzle for shizzle. Austin Baken-Pound. Eaton-Hogg, Denis. First out the limo. Crap Wester, Wankervanyul. "Armenia City In The Sky." - Roger Dodger, from "Speedy" Get down Moses, can't take the walls of Jericho... to the very top. Crystal-ighja. LSD. Damsel in distress, lass in the lavatory. "I'll get you, duck/goose hybrid fuck." - ME I don't know what i'm gonna do about this crazy-ass "duck/goose mix, but a full duck bigger than a goose" thing. It might be "Trail O' Crumbs", Shane. In fact, i'll bank on it. I'm gonna have to take him all the way to Aberdeen. Here in the States, not the one in the "U.K.", so to speak. Right wing hooey, right? This asshole has to go down. "This aggression will not stand... this unchecked aggression will not stand, man." Discuss feelings? Could work, if we had the Doc along. But he sat out this mission, thus putting us in a precarious position, simile speaking. It's the Acid Test. From whence "THE EXPERIENCE" came. Figure that one out & mail me the results. Baggadocious, don't get up in my shit while i'm in the middle. Out with the smells & sights of outback materialism. Forgo the altering, eat the charmer. He deserves better, but then again, so did you. Deal. Poo. Not what i was expecting, but good, none the less. Eat butter straight from the can. Can-o-butter? Could work, in a third world village-nation. Peckerwood's a good sign of things to come. Or not. Fuck yeah! That worked. BOO-yah. Ted, oh Ted... fighting off danger. "I wanna be a Cowboy... & you can be my Cowgirl." - some gay guy who's never tasted a pink taco-ring Riding on the chuck wagon. Feel the slope. Or the lean. Mean, lean, grillin' machine. Hey, screw you for bringing that up... no class, biatch. They asked you for a douche? You misspelled it, by the way, but on... where did they put the douche? Aggro shit goin' on. Smoke & Love. Do that thing i like. Eat that, brak! "The World Is Coming To My Party." - The nuTT That's why i give this to you. For the memories. You'll never forget, will ya? Not like i have. Hopefully... right? Indeed. Deed to all heirs. My rightful throne. Left un-abated. Deli-style chicken wrap. Milk-toast, coffee-bread, breakfast foodstuffs. There, i used it. On till now, the news at 11. Fourteen more hours till 4:04. Six-Second balcony fly-off. Bright, penetrating oranges. Lemon-yellow christ figures, bending, taking, anticipating flying off the handle-bar mustache. A nickel for a ride, pay the fare, eat the cab. "Sometimes you eat the bar, sometimes the bar eats you." - The Stranger I can't stop fucking cussing, ass-face warrior. Eat shit, ass-monger. Fuck-wad, dick smack. Okay, i've got to stop. Or start. This song's so long it ends up where it begins. Bad bad thing, indeed. Right? I was there, i saw the whole thing, repel fitness water. Tones on Tail. Go! That's the slippery slope. Probably a cum-soaked virgin/whore. The world's a weird one. There's a lotta cooks out there. Bakery-store-attendees. Back-a-back. Funk resister. Tell Me Something Good. Dig out the trash & put it up front, with the good wigs. "Why would i know anything about a wheeeeig?" - bald guy Proppin' up the touters & pouters. Doubters & sprouters. Got no time, got no time. 48 hours to each day. With the front, bitch. Proper, hell. Bitch stuck to her gums. Peanut-Buttery goodness. Choco-fun-lasting-flavor-savor-crustache. H to the Thizzo. Props to Rizzo. Stevie Wonder miracle bra. Talk about long-lasting flavor. And the crustache. Mose... my pal. If You Live, your time will come. The young man & the 7th son. The sun's ablaze. More than normal. Fire to the fuel, gotta start somewhere. Fractured remnants of past lives, lived by others, brought to you in Spectro-Vision. ---- Some sat packed like sardines, sitting at dinner tables that would never be served. Where would they come from? A parchman farm? "Your time will come," Ali-Barbar spoke. The wine flowed, the opium pipe stretched the mood. Rum & Cola, ice cubes crashing. A stolen line & a bummed cigarette. Cigar smoking hooligans trapped up on lane 17 again. Causes a ruckus every time. Sonni Ali finally looked at his friend Ali-Barbar, aiding & abetting, "What did you say about 6 minutes ago?" Sonni & Ali-Barbar were friends from way back, but lately Sonni got into the hard stuff. Ali-Barbar couldn't deal... or didn't want to. He retreated, & some sort of "Spider from Mars" ate his friend's brain. It was candy-coated for Sonni's mum & pop, but everyone knew. He had blown it, but back to the track. They would hash their differences out, however. Unlike Frank & his used piece of Euro jet trash. ---- "I was in the house when the house burned down." - bad-luck guy, without the sense to be on his way Isis was a mystical child. She was The Whore Of Babylon to some. Married her on the 5th day of May. Came to a high place of darkness & light. Took the dark path. Ended up walking with Dante & Virgil. Virgil is one sick dude. Kinda kid who'd pull the wings off flies & burn 'em with his glasses. Or some dorks. Elephantitis of the wird. It's much bigger than i, by now, of course. "It's reggae time." out-of-luck, washed up stoner guy Asbestos Brown. Asbestis Town. Lickin' on the big brown star-r. (A la la la la). Peter McFadden bristol-clean grapper whip. Forklift training on Saturday. No Step. Fearful of the flies ahead. E-9. Remote? I've given it much thought, but i'm not sure it's been true. In the past, eighteen wheels of motion lotion did a much better thing than that. Right? Or am i mis-infomed. Or, deformed. Mis-aligned. Missed as much as the whole loaf. It is you, no? Si. Bad guak did the trick. Winnebego Trickster Cycle. Wrote it's goddamn self, it did. I wish this would. I could never stop, but eventually i would drop dead. Can't stay up like this. Bad things in the forecast. Accurate weather forecasting, published daily... can weights. It's a goddamn pressure drop, that's for sure, Toots. Crash all around, Dulcemania for sure. A copper for a dodger. Bush-league crap. Won't work in this town... this is a baseball town. "I.L.B.T.'s" - Joe Walsh "It's a fucking tight-rope, Spud." - Rents Left & right, all over town, down the street. Can't resist, every time i try to call it quits. That's a big 10-4. What's the score? 3-2, eighth inning. Hard to choose your favorite. Or, your favourite. A big Tit Attack. Benedict Arnold in a big blue afro wig. Bouncing up & down the chaminade, parading the attackers as if their life story was something to believe. It was a lie told to people who expected to be lied to... softly. It takes a whiz kid to front the bastard. Backslidin', how do you do? Leaders in the field. And behind the counter. Never could get that "mostly quarters" change, could ya? "Cos I'm gay... WE'RE gay." - non-gay guy Shut up. Let the hand i hold the mic with take control. Actually, i need them both. Don't fail me now. It's about fucking time this shit hit me. Get that small shit out my fucking face. "Also B.B. King & The Joshua Light Show." - Tanglewood - Lenox, MASS. Those rosewoods are bitter! I'll tell ya a little about bitter. Crap-cake! I can't remember. I believe... in the power of the rainbow. Shake-Zoola, the supa-coola. If the hair sticks out, why wear a pair of thongs. Get a good tenny. "They could not shut up." I said, "Hey, shut up." Granny-Blue-Hair's path of destruction is underway. Get ready for some real boring shit. She's fucking 80 years old. What can she destroy, besides an "Oops I Crapped My Pants"? Hey, Joe... go play hide & go fuck yourself. Go down Mexico way. See the trails... eat the plants if you must. Never the one with the Red feathers, however. Sickness that brings. Destroy it you must. Breathtaking. ---- Alright, i gotta wrap this thing up. It's been fun. Enjoy taking the ride, it makes things more fun. Wird, -cpb |