|
Nobody knew how the hager got all fucked up. "That was me," i said, bluntly. "I smoked the shit out of about 3 in a row, man. Smoked the shit out of 'em," i repeated, to drive home my point. I've got an ax to grind, for sure. It goddamn is, innit? Now it's all fucked up. We gotta have a lighter that works, all the time. No let up. I feel like a squonk in here. Have you ever seen a squonks tears? Well, look at mine. Why does everything have to be so goddamn hard now? I can't get to the remote, i'm breakin' lighters & shit. Fu-uck, man. Was just startin' on the 4th & i remembered that kid that used to paint just one nail black. Did it to piss off the squares. Saw the guy the other day & he still had that one nail painted... still givin' the old "Fuck you," to the man. Hate to tell ya, pal - the squares are doin' it now. It's over. The pain & mutilation trip didn't work out for ya's. They got into it. Then all the good old boys had to cancel their subscription to the Resurrection. 3 day offer to all those That Deserve It. Those goodwill types. Always doin' it for the other man. It's a regress to ignorance. Cold filtered ignorance, bought up by the hounds outside. Steppin' on a butterfly on the trip back in time. Ray, i remember, "It was a pleasure to burn." Woops! The ol' shakey hand is comin' back into play. The old days. The Whiskey Days. Five to one & all that shit. Ridin' it hard on the Jim Beam Express. Then it was a short stint in Gin & a White Russian here & there. Then to Rum. The Beach Drink. Layin' out all day in that hot-ass sun. Sippin' Rum & Cola, ice cubes crashing. Weak shit. Where have all the heroes gone? Now, the Rum's gone sweet. Losin' the taste. Peter B. gets me back to Mr. Beam. B. Early begs the bottle back into my hand. "Just finish this last tape. It'll be great... don't worry about it." That rough & tumble shit's back. Hard work & all won't stop the hurt. Why bother? I wander through my playing cards. I wonder about this political stuff. Are these the best we can come up with? George McGovern, where have you gone? That last Honest Politician. And what did we reap on him for his troubles? Landslide victory for the man that needed two Secret Service agents to screw his pants on in the morning. A hellish monster. Back this guy, back that. Where have the conservatives & liberals gone? Suppose it was Eagleton's fault? Honest mistake, but worse of all, an honest response. The horrors seem to not cease here & now. These two, that one... those forgotten few. Does it really matter? Which way we bounce... one too many drinks, feelin' queasy... left or right? Balance those figures... IF YOU DARE! Scary movies chronicle this shit, but every one is too busy drinkin' sodas & their hula-hoops. Bogus thoughts be damned. Feel good time is near & what do i know anyhow? Frost bit the mind of my grandfathers... but hoopla ensues. Cringing won't help... but then again neither will honesty. |