The Mohedrus

Give Up Your Flavors!

2011-12-16T14:40:00.001-06:00

"There goes my dad, yelling at a carrot."

--what my 13-year-old daughter must think sometimes.

Bad Initial Strategy

2011-11-04T13:40:00.002-05:00

Go to the Texas panhandle, irradiate a cattle feedlot with an isotope of thorium/polonium, then lob in artillery shells loaded with a proprietary mixture of napalm and bleach once and the re-animated corpse of Emma Goldman won't return your phone calls.

Euphemism File VR-663

2011-11-02T15:08:00.000-05:00

The bathroom at work=Fudge Closet

All Problems Solved

2011-10-11T16:23:00.003-05:00

From Slacker. If you have never met me (m7) in person, you would not be too far off if you imagine me as this young man.

rare praise from m7

2011-09-09T15:50:00.002-05:00

Why is The Venture Brothers the best television ever stuffed through a cable? Just one example: because their imaginary band, Shallow Gravy, uses a mother fucking Dymaxion Car as a tour bus.

A Botanical Note

2011-07-21T15:17:00.002-05:00

Black-Eyed Susan, Rudbeckia hirta, was known in colonial times as "Black-Eyed Susan Gonna Cut You if You Don't Shut Your Stupid Mouf."

undead undead undead...

2011-06-10T14:53:00.002-05:00

I have my work flow primed so that any single task I do fits neatly within the nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds needed to listen to Bauhaus' Bela Lugosi's Dead.

In other news, the idea that any person actually dies is fucking preposterous.

The B-pocalypse

2011-05-20T09:40:00.002-05:00

Photo by Vivian Maier

Exit Polonius, stage left, cradling his shattered nut sack.

Don't you people realize we're already dead?

Been there, done that.

Let's move on.

an exploded view

2011-05-04T09:19:00.002-05:00

Photo by Richard Barron

Impulse memory and

the burden of overloaded fictions

conspire to finally fall away

leaving me clean

whistling...

The encased mind and

the radiant mind

synchronize watches

and quickly leave

this desolate plain

of rusted edifice

It's not that I know everything now...

it's that everything knows me

And in the ether

who is truly lost?

May Day, 2011

2011-05-02T15:52:00.003-05:00

No May Day parades with weapons-systems penis measuring, just surgical killing.

Keokuk Falls, Oklahoma April 1st, 1909

2011-04-07T10:35:00.002-05:00

It always started with a shootout.

Regardless of the beauty of freshly blooming plums

or the vast choice of fine drinking establishments

our relish was only preserved for the

sight of blood on sidewalks.

That is,

until a man arrived

mounted on a large male ostrich.

The Redbud and the Redbird Should Be Friends

2011-03-04T15:46:00.004-06:00

Redbud Photo by Richard Barron

And in stepwise fashion we have arrived

the iteration in cycle number one trillion

the birds

once again

have sung the flowers into existence

Morrissey and the Mega Gun

2011-02-25T09:53:00.006-06:00

Last night I had one of the most intense and emotionally affecting dreams of my life. I experienced it in the middle of a string of dreams which were all related to each other but I will try to focus on this one because it was obviously the centerpiece and I was able to wake up and take notes.

The setting: My girlfriend (who is actually my real-world wife) and I were living in a loft apartment in the downtown of a large metropolitan area. I would estimate that we lived on about the seventh floor and this loft was blessed with large windows on three sides through which I could see that our building was surrounded by other tall buildings with city streets below. The fourth side of the apartment was a solid wall which backed onto another unit which was occupied by lawyer's offices. In my dream there was a locked door between our apartment and the offices, much like what you might find in adjoining motel rooms. A multi-colored handmade blanket was draped over the back of one of our couches. In real life we do own this blanket.

The music: Throughout the dream Sheila Take a Bow by The Smiths was playing. In real life, I had heard the song a few times when it came out in 1987 but rarely or never since then. During the dream the song played at least twice in its entirety. I had the sense that it was coming from our apartment stereo system.

The characters: I was me, but younger. Mostly I wore a white t-shirt and jeans. My girlfriend was my real life wife but also about twenty years younger. She mostly looked true to life but sometimes her hair would change. I got the distinct impression that we were youthful hipsters of some ilk. The unseen character (and force) was Morrissey, lead singer of The Smiths and later solo artist. The only characters I interacted with other than my girlfriend were my two buddies who were very obviously youthful versions of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, brought forward into the 21st century. They show up toward the end of the dream.

The action: Girlfriend and I are sitting in the loft apartment looking out the windows with tremendous anticipation. Via an unspoken method we have ordered something...big...from Morrissey and we are awaiting its arrival. In the dream, I had a mental picture of a huge artillery gun barrel crashing through the space where two of our corner windows met (do mental interludes within dreamspace freak you out? They do me). Somehow, this destruction of our home with a huge artillery piece was what we ordered and Morrissey was to provide said service. As some point the girlfriend got tired of waiting and she went down to the lobby of our building. As I was looking out our windows I noticed movement to the right. Far away, rolling down the street which our building faced, was the biggest gun ever. It had physical aspects of a towed artillery piece and also a self-propelled, tracked artillery piece but it was at least seven stories tall. It dwarfed all of the cars and trucks on the street it shared with them. It became apparent to me at that point of the dream that Morrissey, in London, had somehow launched this device at our apartment and that once he released it, it couldn't be steered. It was like pushing marble down a gentle slope--you aimed and did your best. As I saw the "device" approaching I stood up and started jumping up and down on the couch with excitement. For some reason I was now suddenly naked in the way that dreams sometimes in the middle change as if saying, "oh yeah you were actually supposed to be naked the whole time." In any case, I watched as the huge gun got closer and then it managed to miss the corner of our apartment by about an inch. It continued down the street and I knew that it was actually going to strike the building across the street to our left. I knew I wouldn't have a good view of this from our place so I nakedly leapt over the back of our black leather modernish couch, snatching up the colorful blanket as I went. I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and broke through the doorway into the attorney's office next door. I rushed over to their picture window in time to see the huge artillery piece GASH its way into the side of the red brick building across the way. After much tumbling brick and glass the gun rolled back and settled in the middle of the street. The scene on the ground was chaotic, with cars akimbo, spectators flooding onto the streets, broken fire hydrants, car alarms, etc. As the dust settled I noticed that I could see into the broken building and that in a sort of factory space there was what I thought at first was a huge wok suspended from brackets. I soon determined, however, that this truck-sized cooker was actually meant to produce industrially-appropriate quantities of kettle popcorn. At that moment I saw that one of the legal secretaries of the attorney's office was dialing building security so I high-tailed it back to our apartment. By this time my girlfriend had returned to our loft and had brought our two buddies with her. They had seen the entire event from street level and we all now gazed through our loft window at the scene below. I am wearing my white t-shirt with no pants. I have the blanket wrapped around me. In the dream I am incredibly stoked about the turn of events and I tell our Ginsbergian friend, "that was TOTALLY worth the money!" I point out the broken building to my girlfriend and ask her what she thinks of the wok. She tells me it's a kettle corn cooker but I keep putting on a weird accent and saying, "that's a BIG ASS wok!" END.

Back in the "real" world: I woke up laughing. Laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. I stumbled sleepily to the kitchen and attempted to transcribe the entire dream onto a grocery list. But in addition to the humor of the dream I also awoke with a feeling of transcendence, like some huge inner barrier had been breached.

The aftermath: Upon reflecting on this experience I have come to the conclusion that this dream was somehow connected to William S. Burroughs.

NO is the friend of all who live

2011-02-11T09:30:00.004-06:00

photo by Richard Barron

I am beginning to find more comfort in death.

Not in any morbid way, mind you

In expanding my consideration both forward and back

I can sense the mess we would have if death did not swoop

did not threaten...

I thank the whispering angel in my ear

"there is death....there is death...there is death..."

Every nap--death

Every "No"---death

Every flake of snow--death

Breathing it in. Circulating it now.

Grounded, In Fact

2011-01-25T09:18:00.002-06:00

Photo by Richard Barron

It is stark, what we almost accomplished

we came very close to destroying it all

and thus ending

this questioning

forever

Guthrie, Oklahoma January 1st, 1925

2011-01-12T14:46:00.004-06:00

We've been turning every stone but we still have not found the treasure.

Jack suggests that the treasure is all around us...is us but William insists that Jack is speaking some sort of horrid un-American gibberish.

The days crawl by and nobody has anything specific to do because we can't decide which train to catch. Although we are unencumbered by quests none of us bothers to dust this ratty hotel room or polish our shoes.

Trapped, essentially....

We would cross the border into brilliance but every map we steal is out of proportion and stained with coffee.

As we sit, the ancient darkness of this land seeps into us. Drinking Oklahoma water. Eating Oklahoma dirt. Shitting Oklahoma shit.

new pollution

2010-12-16T15:31:00.003-06:00

photo by Richard Barron

Yes the aliens are among us. They have intercepted our radio, our television, our cell phone signals...

They aren't here to conquer.

They aren't here to inseminate.

They aren't here as messiahs.

They just want us to "SHUT THE FUCK UP."

"Please stop dumping all of that electromagnetic SHIT into the cosmos!"

The poor aliens receive EM information in their brains with no need for technology. They have no way to filter it. There is an open sewage line of our bullshit from Earth directly into each ungainly grey head.

Setting the Table

2010-12-15T16:10:00.002-06:00

The laws of society are so simple:

--no fuck wrong person

--no hit

--shut fuck up, shut fuck up(!!)

--signal

--wash

--smile

The Subconscious Gets it Right

2010-12-15T12:22:00.002-06:00

Last night I dreamed that I was some sort of celebrity and I was visiting Vermont for the first time. I was at a forest-ensconsed highway patrol station to present an award to some of the troopers. Addressing the small crowd of local yahoos, I pointed out that Oklahoma is a much more military-soaked state than Vermont and that if a Vermonter saw a couple of Blackhawk helicopters flying overhead they would mess their pants. At that moment, two Blackhawks came screaming overhead. Each of them had a forward-mounted machine gun which is actually a feature of the Apache, not the Blackhawk. In any case, when the crowd saw the choppers with their insect-proboscis guns they were gripped with terror--even the patrolmen nearly lost their green mountie hats.

Kennesaw Mountain Jack Off Trigger

2010-12-14T13:52:00.004-06:00

When Aaron Copland died in 1990 he left behind an unfinished symphony which he always insisted would be called Kennesaw Mountain Jack Off Trigger. His will was written so that the symphony could never be finished and performed or recorded with any other title.

Malaise Days

2010-12-08T10:38:00.002-06:00

By the time Larry Behemoth's zipper was fully open all sorts of terrible things had exploded out of his pants....

effluents

gasses

organs

fluids

bad vibes

What a scene.

The noise was somewhere between the groan of a hippo, shoulder deep in mud, dying of childbirth and the metal scream of a submarine as it is cruelly ripped in half by Godzilla.

What a smell.

Bleach/feedlot/napalm odor...

the cloud of it drifted slowly southward from Ada, Oklahoma to finally settle over the Gulf of Mexico. It created a kill zone which covered at least four hundred square miles of ocean. Another clam harvest ruined.

For years afterward, little boys on the Yucatan peninsula were born with a full head of shocking red hair.

Larry Behemoth survived the incident.

IL DUCE (the dookie)

2010-04-07T12:17:00.002-05:00

March the fourth, 2010

2010-03-04T15:51:00.002-06:00

Emerged, crocus #1

heralds the approach of spring

Next the purple explosion

of our allies the redbuds

this explosion is the signal flag, the real beginning

In its maturity, Spring will spit out

my friend the Himalayan

she doesn't groom too neatly

but she has an engaging purr

And together, she and I will revel in the knowledge that, after all, the sun truly loves us

seismosquids!

2010-01-22T10:43:00.003-06:00

In last night's dream, Arctic giant squids were sending narrow seismic beams up out of the sea in order to down jetliners. The beams weren't strong enough to crash the planes outright, but they did cause the planes' PA systems to fall into the ocean. When the planes would turn around and cruise low to recover the PA systems the squids would grab the planes with their tentacles and drag them into the water. The survivors of these crashes, while bobbing in the ocean with chunks of ice of various sizes, could hear the thoughts of the dozens of squid by ducking fully under the water. The squid mainly thought about how surprisingly easy it was to bring these airplanes down, what human flesh must taste like, and would it be possible to have sex with humans. In the dream, humanity solved the squid problem by just letting those PA systems go--no recovery attempts allowed.

Happy Birthday, Buzz Aldrin!

2010-01-20T12:10:00.002-06:00

From Wikipedia:

On September 9, 2002, filmmaker Bart Sibrel, a proponent of the Apollo moon landing hoax theory, confronted Aldrin and his stepdaughter outside a Beverly Hills, California hotel. Sibrel said "You're the one who said you walked on the moon, when you didn't" and called Aldrin "a coward, and a liar, and a thief."^[39] Aldrin punched Sibrel in the face. Beverly Hills police and the city's prosecutor declined to file charges after witnesses confirmed that Sibrel had initiated physical contact. Sibrel suffered no serious injuries.^[40]

a tectonic shift in 1980's teendom

2009-12-14T15:50:00.003-06:00

I am currently working on a project to send iPhones back to the year 1980. I have targeted 100 American 14-year-old boys to receive the devices. The futuristic toys will impress girls, which will get the boys laid more, which will vastly improve our 2009 lives. In fact, the changes may have already occurred----we'll never know.

stroke of blood

2009-11-04T12:39:00.002-06:00

Just returned from Cuba.

The Gay Masons of America, Mississippi chapter took me along with them on their Havana junket. Though I am not gay, a Freemason, or a Mississippian, they paid my way because they knew I could get them access to the vault where the preserved severed hands of Che Guevara are stored.

I always enjoy Cuba. The myths there run almost as deep and foundational as they do here in Oklahoma. Viva, puta.

suede denim secret police

2009-10-29T15:03:00.003-05:00

I just got back from Beijing where I was helping the Chinese create an army of genetically enhanced super villains. My benefactors didn't get the joke when I nicknamed the first unit to emerge from the breeding tanks "Khan Noonien Singh." Immediately after getting the program rolling I flew to Taiwan and blabbed the whole Chinese plan to Chiang Kai Shek...or, more precisely, to his tomb--he is quite dead (despite our extensive interest in reanimating him).

"Let the world end but not before I shred."

2009-10-26T15:04:00.001-05:00

Suppose

I am a lumberjack.

What then?

all of which are american dreams

2009-10-13T12:31:00.003-05:00

Rage Against the Machine is the perfect band to listen to while I support the soulless capitalist edifice by doing repetitive data entry. Ironic?

brain and brain

2009-08-17T12:18:00.002-05:00

Did a google search for "shipping container homes" and accidentally typed "shitting container homes."

Aerial Predation

2009-08-05T12:24:00.003-05:00

within a seething pile of life

the hive mind suddenly evaporates

and Larry Behemoth wakes up

for a moment

the possibilities dazzle

and afterflash of starblaze

pop on his retinas

gold, purple, aqua

the fragments in his mind

ease together with an oily click

and the pillar of truth

is revealed stark

he now remembers the words

and the gestures

and the steps

so that dragonflies may grant wishes

From the Grave, Mr. Willie Dixon

2009-07-09T10:04:00.003-05:00

In death, Willie Dixon is ten times more powerful than the average living person.

Those who disturbed Willie Dixon's grave will find themselves garotted by an A-string.

Do not fuck with Willie Dixon.

For You Europhiles

2009-06-10T10:58:00.002-05:00

Fuck you, Europe!

Bend them over a 17th century Tuscan farm table, lube them up with goose liver fat and fuck 'em right up the ass.

something other than lame

2009-06-08T16:07:00.003-05:00

of all the tin cherries

busted

in the accounting of experience

and the myth of the separate observer

hers was the one that greased the special

polished the floor

removed the dust

plastered the mistakes

and here were seven

all tall

eyes down

hats up

the fish tacos are gone now

the sack left empty but

for the active lining

shining pink

bone on metal

wires

waves

regrets

Jesus! Evolve Already!!!

2009-05-26T14:54:00.002-05:00

Some of you may remember Foster Brooks. He had to shelve his drunkard character by the early 1980's because public sensibilities about alcoholism had shifted.

Check out Texts from Last Night. Now everybody is the Foster Brooks lush character, but for real.

A Note on the V.L.P.A.

2009-05-20T12:21:00.003-05:00

photo by Imogen Cunningham

Clearing up some confusion concerning the Very Large Panty Array:

The individual panties themselves are not unusually large. The array itself, however, is a construct of unparalleled vastness.

A large black cat, golden eyes blinking slowly.

The magnolia encounters me at first bloom.

Notes from The Wheel (of existence)

2009-05-15T14:33:00.003-05:00

photo by Richard Barron

As I was walking to lunch today, I considered the subject of death. A weary voice whispered in my ear, "Been there. Done that. Already been dead uncountable times"

It's as true as a pile of mirrors.

Bammer!

2009-05-14T15:08:00.003-05:00

The Maria Bamford Show: watch all 20 episodes or your life will remain a wasteland of humourlessness for all eternity. Just fucking brilliant.

Innocent Blue Brown Webb

2009-05-13T15:27:00.003-05:00

connected to your controllers

through cellular units

happy at last,

with no self-contained volition

facing away,

here I sit:

the lapdog of the ghoulitariat

The first step to canonization...

2009-05-08T16:06:00.003-05:00

As I was walking along the street today, I saw a young lady drive by me in her red econocar. Her tire was making a decidedly odd noise. I determined it to be due to a nearly flat tire. I ran up to her at a stop sign and told her to hold on a minute while I checked the situation out. The passenger rear was almost in a rim-to-rubber state. I knelt down next to the tire, placed my right hand upon its hot blackness and uttered "BISMILLAH!!!" The tire spat out a nail, sealed up, and rapidly re-inflated itself.

I continued my walk, my feet not really touching the pavement.

On the Varieties of Hound

2009-05-07T15:30:00.004-05:00

Most people have encountered the blood hound, but did you realize that there are other bodily-fluid oriented breeds of hound?

--sweat hound

--tear hound

--cerebrospinal fluid hound

--saliva hound

--urine hound

--lymph hound

--milk hound

--bile hound

--synovial fluid hound

--vitreous humour hound

Pronouncement #83

2009-05-06T16:30:00.000-05:00

I'm just going to chill until the system stops me.

An Interesting Concept

2009-05-01T15:46:00.001-05:00

If one consciously, gently, and humanely cultivates stupidity it ceases to be stupid.

poem 092

2009-05-01T10:35:00.005-05:00

poem 092
05/09/05

if I had Jesus in my pocket
I wouldn’t feel so odd
if I had Jesus in my pocket
I could wear a coat and tie
(but never sweat)
if I had Jesus in my pocket
I could breathe underwater
if I had Jesus in my pocket
he would hand me a $100 bill
every time I stuck my hand
down there

Huge, Flaming Fists

2009-04-30T12:21:00.002-05:00

fallopian and wandering

a lusty finger

a flick of dried mucus

there stood the dream

outlined in purple

there was no escaping it

my viewpoints were a-titter

a chattering bird

a pontificating monkey

and a moist beaver

walk into the bar

all heads smash to the floor

from the rapid decompression

caused by the complete evacuation

of any sanity from the room

a round of mescaline

on the house

Classic Television: Hidden Meanings

2009-04-28T12:21:00.002-05:00

I Dream of Genie

Cocoa Beach represents Eden (not Barbara Eden, just Eden)

Genie represents the Tree of Knowledge

Maj. Nelson represents Eve

Maj. Healy represents The Serpent

Dr. Burroughs represents Yahweh

synopsis: In Eden/Cocoa Beach, there stands the Tree/Genie who can grant knowledge and power akin to that of the gods. Eve/Maj. Nelson is leery of this power because he fears retribution. Serpent/Maj. Healy is constantly trying to talk Eve/Maj. Nelson into partaking of what the Tree/Genie has to offer. Yahweh/Dr. Burroughs is confused by his creation. He is shocked at the ability of mere humans/Nelson to go behind his back with independent thought and action.

(How did they make that "bing-boing" sound effect?)

(I am also willing to entertain the possibility that Dr. Burroughs actually represents William S. Burroughs.)

Bewitched

Samantha represents the anima/emotional part of the mind

Darrin represents the animus/reasoning part of the mind

Larry Tate represents the Superego

Endora represents the Id

Edna Kravitz represents the Uberconscious Observer

Tabitha represents the Inner Child

Darrin's convertible represents Will to Power

synopsis: As a model of the Mind, Bewitched succeeded where Alice failed miserably. Samantha/emotion/intuition constantly struggles with Darrin/reason/intellect over the methodology of existence. Samantha/immortal is constrained by constant battles with Endora/Id/impulsiveness while Darrin/mortal must forever be checked by Larry Tate/convention/society. Darrin must move through life via the limited convertible/Will to Power, while Sam can instantly be anywhere via the auspices of magic, which Darrin rejects. Throughout this fabric wanders Tabitha/Inner Child, who is of little consequence to the overall plot. All are watched over by Edna Kravitz/Uberobserver who notices the activity of the mind while only rarely interacting with its components. All kinds of crazy characters and imagination emanate from the Samantha/Endora/Tabitha continuum while the Darrin/Larry Tate/convertible continuum only brings in cold hard cash and complaining.

Still to come:

Sanford and Son--allegory of modern geopolitics

One Day at a Time--three muses strike a chord

Carter Country--what hath The New Deal wrought?

The Munsters--a guide to The Enlightenment

The Banana Splits--Matreiya, Buddha of the Future

Happy Days--the fall of the House of Tudor

Fat Albert--a guide to the Catholic monastic orders

Space 1999--the life of Gregor Mendel

Gunsmoke--a history of the Olmec peoples

The Monkees--a complex Bhakta ritual in every episode. Devoted to Shiva, each program explored issues such as reincarnation, meditation, and disavowal of the flesh.

What's Happening!!--Art of War by Sun Tzu: theory, application, methodology, and meaning. Hint: Rerun is the king of the state of Wu.

The Secret Bio-Warfare Program of the Vichy Government

2009-04-24T14:54:00.002-05:00

Weaponized Cheese

Only Violent on the Inside

2009-04-23T10:47:00.003-05:00

My first conscious thought upon awaking this morning: "Sodomite."

My second conscious thought upon awaking this morning: "anti-ketchup."

The inside of my mouth tastes like an open wound.

We...are the Metrons.

2009-04-16T10:50:00.008-05:00

Richard Barron took this photo of me in Utah:

For some odd reason, I look like a Metron:

The Only True Defense is Distance

2009-04-15T15:53:00.002-05:00

As I take my daily walk I am often amused by the antics of the local squirrels. They are so cute and furry and fat! I don't approach too closely though. The squirrels around here are all members of a rodent male homosexual speed tribe. If you get closer than about 10 feet, you risk attack. They are all packing fast-acting paralytic venom. Given one good bite, you would be down within seconds and the squirrel brothers would swarm. You would be painfully aware of your predicament but unable to act. You would soon find yourself swathed in a matrix of oak leaves and squirrel semen and secreted in the core of a huge tree. Of what would you dream as the squirrels gradually drain you of your life's essence over the course of a beautiful Oklahoma Spring?

They sure are cute though!

Highly Recommended

2009-04-15T10:53:00.002-05:00

photo by Richard Barron

For a while, I was looking at photo blogs every day. I was following about a dozen of them. Richard started his a while back and it stands supreme. All else is shit.

The Origin of My Mind

2009-04-09T10:54:00.004-05:00

photo by Richard Barron

A dream of past lives finally revealed to me where my current brain iteration originated. The year was 1987. The place was a basement in Dallas' Deep Ellum. At that point, it occurred to me that other people weren't very entertaining as presented and that it was going to be up to me from then on out to amuse myself. A new brain was going to be needed. I began to gather melted wax and grains of alcohol. I haphazardly shaped the ingredients into a new mind and adopted it whole heartedly.

This new mind (a novelty mind, really) necessitated a moderate schism from previous modes of behavior. For example, it became necessary for me to drive along the highways of America, interpreting future events based on current signs and signifiers. Also, I had to abstain from drugs and alcohol.

It may be time to advance into the next iteration. The constant hammering on my brain by psychic influences from other planes is causing a certain "meltiness," if you will.

What Hath Charlie Parker Wrought

2009-04-03T16:27:00.003-05:00

First thing this morning

spinning the bird.

I start stepping

and my immediate thought is:

"The year is 1950, and I'm banging your sister."

This Day in Television History

2009-04-03T10:45:00.003-05:00

April 03, 1981

William S. Burroughs appeared on the syndicated TV show Hee Haw for the first and only time. He read the section from Naked Lunch about "the man who taught his asshole to talk" while Roy Clark accompanied on twangy electric guitar.

Enzan no Metsuke

2009-04-02T11:01:00.003-05:00

A class in supersonic Judo that I take from an old Lesbian Zen Monk. During training, she always plays a record of metallic cocaine bebop. She has broken so many of my bones over the years--even the little ones in my middle ear.

Only use the supersonic Judo once for real. By the time the cops arrived, the mugger was barely recognizable as a human being, seeing as how I turned him inside out like a wet, sticky wool sweater.

Always, in my mind, the shattering blue sky of New Mexico.

"Precisely. Arty type...No principles..."

Aping the Grunt

2009-04-01T12:23:00.007-05:00

(Ham wears The Garment)

hack vine with machete

shoot heroin in hooch

shitcan this

clean M16 obsessively

(a jam could kill you, bro)

get clap from Saigon whore

(Suzy Rottencrotch Nguyen)

help frag dickhead lieutenant right after Tet

lose foot to mine

go home

shoot more heroin

divorce wife

shoot more heroin

remove .45 cal. ACP from olive drab duffle bag

suck barrel

push trigger

To the attackers of Mumbai...

2008-12-02T10:50:00.002-06:00

JAI HIND, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!

The 2212 Overture

2008-11-21T14:31:00.002-06:00

"Commander Kor"

From now on, the cannon reports featured in the 1812 Overture will be replaced by the Klingon disruptor sound effect from Errand of Mercy. That is all.

LOL Orwell

2008-11-20T12:19:00.003-06:00

"Goldstein"

As it turns out, Winston Smith was completely wrong. Ingsoc was not brought down by an uprising of the proles. One day the Party suddenly decided to replace the Two-Minutes-Hate with the Two-Minutes-Meowing-and-Purring-at-a-Cute-Kitten-Pictured-on-the-Telescreen. Oddly enough, the kitten pictured was always the same and the kitten's name was Goldstein. In any case, the rule of the Party rapidly collapsed from the core, Airstrip One, outwards. Within two weeks Oceania had ceased to exist as an institution.

A Last Minute Endorsement for Obama

2008-11-04T07:53:00.002-06:00

11/03/08

Pocatello, Idaho

In a shocking move, the Re-animated Corpse of Andrew Jackson has endorsed Barack Obama for president. Jackson stated, "I know I usually go for the more traditional, conservative candidate. But, even though I am the walking undead, that McCain guy is just creepy."

With that, the Re-animated Corpse of Andrew Jackson entered his regeneration pod where he will remain sealed until the next election cycle begins.

A Tip for Election Day

2008-11-03T10:56:00.003-06:00

In my capacity as an occasional political strategist, I come across information that is certainly not meant for the public at large. I was waiting around for a teleconference to begin back in 2006 and I overheard Rove describing the latest Republican dirty voting trick. Do you see the symbol above? Simply draw it in the lower-left corner of your ballot and it will make each of your votes worth five regular votes. It's like you are five people!

You are welcome!

subconscious hilarity

2008-11-03T10:48:00.003-06:00

Last night I dreamed that my wife and I were having a conversation. During this conversation, she insisted on referring to Jeff Goldblum as "Jeff Fagsmith-Goldman."

insert some letters, remove others

2008-10-09T16:23:00.002-05:00

I've been reading the short stories of H.H. Munro, AKA Saki.

I misread the title of his Down Pens as Down Penis.

I highly recommend his work, even if he does steer clear of the subject of dick.

If you want to really cross your wires, read Saki while listening to Metallica's new Death Magnetic.

vox populii

2008-10-09T16:09:00.003-05:00

The prime moment from the 2008 presidential campaign so far occurred during the Vice-Presidential debate. I'm sure you all remember when Sarah Palin kicked Joe Biden in the crotch.

As he writhed on the floor, moaning, she danced around him screaming, "Get up old man! Get up old man!!!"

He just stayed horizontal, cradling his shattered balls.

The best thing about Sarah Palin is that she takes direction well.

The best thing about Joe Biden is that he does his own stunts.

microphone up the butt, reverb in the nut

2008-09-18T16:21:00.002-05:00

--(to the tune of Row Your Boat:)

ream, ream, ream the butt

of a sacred cow

lubricant, lubricant, lubricant, lubricant

is what we need right now

(lubriCAN!)

--Lacking a proper lunch, Larry simply picked up and ate the first dead thing he came across.

--Don't go home yet folks. These two chicks will be doing it before the night has ended.

--A lonely little brick building on the desperate edge of a skanky town...

--Horse lesbian, indeed...

--I do not relish this class warfare, but it is the only way I can get my rocks off.

--There we have it, ACCUPEEN!!!

--cluster fuck of stuffed animals

no muscular control

--The scouring action of her gaze as her eyes danced lustfully over the contents of my wallet...

--Oh, it's one of those little novelty minds, perhaps intended as a promotional trinket.

An Open Apology to Galveston Island and the Bolivar Peninsula

2008-09-18T15:11:00.003-05:00

I'm afraid that this whole Hurricane Ike "thing" may have been my doing. Sorry about that!

A few weeks ago me (m7), my wife (r23), and my daughter (m8) spent a day on Galveston Island and the Bolivar Peninsula. While on Galveston, driving along the sea wall, I explained to my daughter the purpose of the sea wall and that Galveston would have to directly encounter a large hurricane for the seawall to be topped. I went on to state that if the big one ever did strike, Galveston was screwed since the island is like a huge bowl and the water couldn't escape easily once it was in. Later, we crossed over to the Bolivar Peninsula by ferry. I pointed out that there was no seawall here and that a hurricane would certainly scrape the seaside areas clean and deposit everyone's stuff in Galveston Bay.

We really had a very enjoyable time and all...and I truly did not mean to bring all this upon those poor folks. I just saw it all happening so clearly, you know?

(Pictured above: the approximate location where the sea gods chose to listen to me for once.)

stirring the chaos pot

2008-09-17T16:10:00.003-05:00

Bringing stuff up from the very bottom, folding it into the solution. Thickening.

OK, this happened back in February of 2008: I was on my weekly conference call with John McCain, Carl Rove, and the re-animated corpse of Andrew Jackson. We were doing some long-term strategy talk based around the assumption that the McCain Crypto-Narc would gain the GOP nomination. Rove noted that Captain Straight Talk had obvious charisma problems when compared to Obama or Hillary. I jokingly suggested that the only thing that trumped smooth-talking black dude AND liberal white guilt chick was HOT WHITE CHICK for veep. The re-animated corpse of Andrew Jackson found this especially funny. McCain jokingly dismissed my idea by asking if we should start vetting Hooters girls. We then discussed the fact that some sort of dirt always comes to light about the donkey candidate and we could easily exploit that to ensure victory. In other words, follow the traditional play book.

Apparently, no dirt came to light and they went back to the "m7 hot chick gambit." I am always pleased as punch to add some turbo force to the constant underlayment of chaos through which we swim.

Sometime, I'll write about my idea for a hurricane production device.

crouching at the foot of an obvious dragon

2008-09-17T15:52:00.004-05:00

My daughter's homework assignment was to use each of her spelling words in a sentence. For the word "mean," her sentence read, "Momento Mori means 'remember you will die.'"

If I had been that cool at her age I would rule the entire planet by now.

Must be all the kippers

2008-09-16T16:26:00.002-05:00

It is a well-known fact that British people flip one off by presenting the extended index and middle fingers, knuckles toward the target. Americans use only the middle finger. This is because Brits lack the manual dexterity to adopt the American method.

I No Longer Mesh With Ganesh

2008-09-12T14:57:00.004-05:00

I have stopped placing coins in the little Ganesh fountain at the local Indian restaurant. Ganesh is supposed to remove impediments, right? I gave him the benefit of the doubt for years, but still every day I trip up on dozens of hapless fucks. If I am not mistaken, these hapless fucks=impediments. Perhaps Ganesh is angling for more money. Probably I am a bad Hindu because I prefer to not be liberally doused with turmeric every time I leave the house. Naaah--how could I be a bad Hindu? After all, I am the guy who invented Sweet Potatoes Vindaloo (Straight Out The Jar Variation).

Let's all face facts. In these modern times, our ability to maintain strict transactional arrangements with our deities of choice is severely compromised. It looks like I'll have to get back to removing my own impediments. I'm hitting the store this weekend to find a seven foot rubber elephant trunk. If you are a hapless fuck and you don't enjoy a rubber trunk beat-down, I suggest you clear the streets come Monday.

The Old Cock and Pullet Gag

2008-09-12T14:36:00.002-05:00

On the front lines during the foreskin plagues of 1987, I wore a condom 24/7.

It was a sacrament, in essence. A dong sacrament.

In the end, the plague was eliminated via the SS SPASSKY DEATH WEENUS.

Back then, all the chicks became adept at killing with their cunts, just like that junky in Liquid Sky.

I'll give anything to never again have my corpus transformed into crumpled Roswellcrash material and disintegrated. I existed as a metallic vapor trapped in the skylight of a Greenwich Village loft for six years.

This horror will never be repeated because all the cool kids shave their junk now, leaving Rejeck no place to hide.

this is even doubly true

2008-09-09T16:19:00.003-05:00

Reminder to self: the only really important rule is...

DON'T BE A DICK.

Meteor open-ended wrench, 3/8"

2008-09-09T12:19:00.002-05:00

My grandparents did not quit. As children, they lived through World War I and a massive flu epidemic. As young adults, they survived the Great Depression and the dust bowl years without escaping Oklahoma. World War II was prominent during their child-bearing years. Through middle age and later life, there were major wars, minor wars, rural electrification, the civil rights movement, the women's rights movement, the interstate system, The Price is Right, cancer, third-degree burns, congenital lung disease, happy children, unhappy children, the downward slide of rural America, oil boom, oil bust, oil boom again......plus, there was always m7 to deal with.

We can survive the coming turmoil just as well as they did. In every situation, simply ask yourself, "what would m7's grandfather do?"

(If you never knew my grandfather, ask yourself, what would the re-animated corpse of Andrew Jackson do?)

Rip Van Inquiry

2008-08-22T15:06:00.003-05:00

Pernell Gris of Woodinville WA, suffered a severe head trauma due to an auto accident on August 16th, 1981. He persisted in a state of coma until he suddenly awoke on June 4th, 2005. When he was strong enough, his wife, Gladys, took him for a short outing to the Pike's Place Market, which had always been one of Pernell's favorite places before his accident. They walked around the market, Pernell silent....looking..... and Gladys watching Pernell's face carefully to gauge his reaction. After about ten minutes, Pernell stopped in his tracks and asked "Where'd all these fat people come from?"

Stuffed into the Red Corner

2008-08-22T14:51:00.002-05:00

Just back from China. My Olympic venture proved only moderately successful. Apparently, one is not allowed into the Bird's Nest or the Water Cube after "causing a disruption" in "Tiananmen Square" by repeatedly screaming "ADVANTAGE......MEGAPEEEEEN!!!!" into a "freaking loud megaphone." The Chinese security forces were relatively well behaved. I never did get my megaphone back, though.

In any case, I believe the ADVANTAGE....MEGAPEEEEEN!!!! message has been planted in the fertile minds of our Eastern brothers and sisters.

Oklahoma place names

2008-08-08T11:02:00.003-05:00

My daughter recently visited Little Axe, OK for some random reason. I told her that now, to complete the set, we need to visit Medium Axe and Big Axe. We will save Retardedly Freakin' Huge Axe for last.

Chauncy McVenomspew

2008-08-08T10:56:00.002-05:00

A customer I deal with several times per year, let's call him Chauncy McVenomspew, is one of the meanest little men I have ever met. I just found out he's seeking medical treatment for knee pain and I immediately assumed his knees hurt from spending so much time kneeling worshipfully before the Supreme Goddess of Hate.

Teisho

2008-08-06T16:27:00.002-05:00

"Most think that a religion is belonging to a group that shares a system of beliefs. In reality each individual has their own religion."

--Kodo Sawaki

The hardware changes but the impulse remains the same

2008-08-01T15:52:00.002-05:00

When I was a teenager and I vividly imagined shooting somebody in the head, my imaginary weapon of choice was the Uzi. Later, it was a .50 cal. machine gun. Later still, the Colt .45 cal. ACP and then a Sig Sauer 9mm. These days I'm back to the Uzi. One in each hand. Firing short bursts. I imaginary-slaughter about a dozen people per day.

When somebody suggests that Americans are inherently violent, I like to point out that many, many people have the urge to kill but relatively few carry this out. If America were truly a violent society, you would have to wade through the bodies just to get to work each day. If America were truly a violent society, North Korea, North Vietnam, Cuba, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, and a host of other countries would be nuclear wastelands by now. It astonishes me that we, as a society, hold back our wrath to the extent we do.

My consciousness resides in a mailbox many blocks away, but I am normal

2008-08-01T15:18:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I believe that America has actually achieved sufficient escape velocity and that we are rapidly leaving the Oswald Crypto Narc behind. These times do not last very long in the face of the facts of our existence.

Refer to Decoys by David Alexander for a full accounting of the process.

why this cultural persistence?

2008-08-01T12:14:00.001-05:00

"Every time you eat a steak a hippie's hacky sack goes in the gutter."

--Patton Oswalt

from Kafka Diary

2008-08-01T10:10:00.002-05:00

August 1st, 1910

I met a most interesting man today, a Herr Lawrence Behemoth. Herr Behemoth hails from somewhere in the central United States of America. What he was doing in the Red Castle bookstore, I have no idea.

I found it disconcerting that Herr Behemoth insisted I refer to him as "Larry." I, of course, refused. Luckily, I only introduced myself as "Kafka," else he might have called me "Good Old Franzie." Behemoth seemed to have no ill will toward the Jewry, which is opposite of what I have experienced in other gentile Americans.

Most of our short conversation centered on Herr Behemoth's dislike of roaches. On at least a half dozen occasion's I heard him mutter under his breath, "Fuckin' vermin everywhere..." I was at a loss to determine to what he referred as there was not an insect anywhere in sight.

Mid summer in Prague is stifling and I believe Behemoth could out-perspire anybody.

I Cast My Vote for the Re-Animated Corpse of Andrew Jackson

2008-07-22T15:29:00.002-05:00

From Wikipedia's United States Presidential Assassination Attempts:

"ANDREW JACKSON

January 30, 1835: At the Capitol Building, a house painter named Richard Lawrence aimed two flintlock pistols at the President, but both misfired, one of them while Lawrence stood within 13 feet of Jackson and the other at point-blank range. Lawrence was apprehended after Jackson beat him with a cane."

Not only was Jackson very lucky, but he was willing, perhaps even eager, to beat his attacker mercilessly. Compared to Jackson, almost all U.S. presidents have been total pussies. People, that's the kind of leader M7 can get behind (you wouldn't want to be in front of him).

pudding drops from the sky...PLOP PLOP PLOP...

2008-07-10T13:37:00.003-05:00

If a musician states that his greatest influence is The Beatles, don't bother listening to his sucky songs (it's almost invariably a dude).

In my experience, French people are actually rather intelligent and friendly.

Porno-Fuck 2000 was MY idea.

99% of internet memes should be abandoned immediately. Get creative, people!

The Vast Undertow of Undifferentiated Time

2008-07-02T16:21:00.002-05:00

June 20, 2008

From the central stack of the plains states all the way to the Pacific it looks like mostly nothing (human) from 27,000 feet.

June 25, 2008

A repeated squeezing of the hand and then an ever-weakening squeezing of the intercostal muscles. It seems to take forever only because the habitual markers of time are no longer present.

July 1, 2008

And gradually it was OK not to struggle anymore and I seemed to fully come back to myself. Where the hell had I been hiding? Rather than pushing the edifice forward I now ride in the sidecar.

poem 019//photo 019

2008-07-01T16:26:00.003-05:00

02/25/05

Cryptic Notes to a Brother Who Never Existed:

panic scrawl

the cost of resistance

even better than pad thai

pulling back the sheath

a hole in every t-shirt

and annihilate my tongue

with the bluntest of dentition

models m1 through m6 were not entirely bulletproof

2008-06-26T07:54:00.003-05:00

My father, m6, passed away last night. m6 led an exciting life. Here's a partial listing:

1) played tackle on high school football team. Aimed for the nuts.

2) Became an army officer and aviator.

3) Fought two tours in Vietnam.

4) Participated in 1981 air traffic controller strike.

5) Briefly imprisoned in Saudi Arabia.

6) Lifelong participant in alcoholism.

7) Too many car wrecks to remember.

8) At least two helicopter crashes.

9) At least four wives.

10) Recovered from implantation of artificial heart valve (that's right, m6=cyborg).

11) Preceded in death by pet wolf.

12) Pool shark and geetar player throughout.

How the fuck he lasted 63 years I'll never know. Run hard m6, run hard. Fly that ship or it will fly you.

The Mummified Penis of Yaphet Kotto

2008-06-09T15:45:00.003-05:00

Our ridiculous measures of control have fallen short once again. This world which we each create from moment to moment suits us not at all. To make things right we grasp harder and harder while the joy slips farther and farther away. All we can hope to achieve is the insertion of tiny chaos-nuggets into the communication stream. These nuggets momentarily "bump" the brain waves, thus making the grip-to-rightness a bit less steady.

m7: It's just like the mummified penis of Yaphet Kotto."

DW: (Blank stare, then) uhhh..... Yaphet Kotto is not dead yet.

m7: Precisely!

On the other hand:

Morpheus: What happened happened and couldn't have happened any other way.

Neo: How do you know?

Morpheus: We are still alive.

pax Americana

2008-06-09T15:42:00.001-05:00

"Listen, you FUCKS, I don't need to be heckled when I'm trying to better myself."

--Ed Pepitone

Head to toe I'm dressed in black...

2008-06-03T10:44:00.003-05:00

Around 1989 I had the chance to see Bo Diddley play for $10.00. That night I chose to stick with my friends, who were uninterested in "black" music, rather than go to see Bo and figure out later how to get a ride home. It is one of the few regrets I have in my life--I wish I would have done it the other way.

Bo Diddley///1928--2008

a periodic awakening

2008-05-23T15:11:00.002-05:00

Often, when my alarm wakes me in the morning, my first conscious thought is a snippet of cartoon music. This morning was different. My first thought upon awaking--before even opening my eyes--was a single word: TECHNETIUM.

It's Important to Remain Occupied

2008-05-02T10:40:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was May Day! May Day just isn't as exciting in these times as we no longer plunge into our thermonuclear floggings which peter out into late-night discussions of the price of kerosene.

Absent the May Day clash of cultures and the evening newscasts of the Red Menace marching, marching, marching, meaning to scare the pee out of us in the West, I feared the onset of May First boredom.

To thwart this boredom, I painstakingly transferred all of the boogers and snot from my right nostril to my left nostril. And vice-versa. I remained occupied for the day and I was able to directly smash Sartre's ridiculous ideas about nausea.

The Impossibility of Giving a Shit

2008-04-30T16:08:00.003-05:00

"There is hope, but not for us." --Franz Kafka

"You're all a bunch of fucking idiots." --Jim Morrison

"There are no experts on TV. You are more likely to get good advice from a first-grader."--m7

The Mississippians

2008-04-23T16:00:00.002-05:00

Spiro, Oklahoma was the home of the Spiro Mound Builders, a nation of telepaths that the gods of Popul Vuh destroyed around AD1600 because the Spiro people turned their aboriginal neighbors into fuck slaves. Making the aboriginals into fuck slaves was not a crime in and of itself, but the use of the telepathic tool in such a context is a power reserved only for the gods.

Fumbling

2008-04-23T15:32:00.004-05:00

I thrust my hand into the sky and felt around.

Yes!

I finally found the plug.

I wrapped my hands around the plug and pulled as hard as I could, bracing my feet against a passing cloud.

With a slight --pop-- the plug came loose. As I tumbled to the earth, this world slowly began deflating.

My Louvre Fantasy

2008-04-10T16:12:00.002-05:00

I walk along the hallowed halls of the world's most famous art museum, thumping each painting with my middle finger (right on the canvas). With each thump, I loudly intone, "GAY," (thump). "GAY," (thump). "GAY," (thump).

Technology Confuse m7

2008-04-04T12:33:00.002-05:00

On my computer, an icon entitled "volume control." I am entranced with the idea of this "volume control." I wonder if it somehow adjusts the capacity of my bladder.
*****

I am starting to understand that it doesn't matter what you believe. Whatever your worldview, you are fucked up for even thinking that it is possible to maintain all of the convenient fictions needed to generate a tidy little perspective of your own.
*****

Crusty old refugees of the Beat Generation take heed! No, not speed, HEED! SPEEDHEED. I did a speedheed, turned tail and ran...
Into the desert with the grains crashing by me and causing enough friction to exactly imitate the sound of the cicada cruising for chicks. And into the sea with the invisible jellyfish, and into the forest with the bear cubs clutching, and into the mountains--the veins of gold echoing brightly with my every footfall and, finally, plop into the swamp where the nutria shows me his shiny old burden.
*****

Dear Lord, thank you for endowing us with the ability to kill everything in our path.

Scratching from Start

2008-04-03T16:02:00.002-05:00

Abundant and obvious, the very dirt around us begs for attention. Twisted and soaked, it forges the very spirit of our understanding. Just add water. A bit of coloring. Holds your acorns just fine.

Then there are little pebbles. Too small to toss at a passing zebra, they languish on the floor of the valley. Their sharp edges will never slice open a deer or flavor a watery soup. One hops into my shoe. I wince, dig it out, and cast it aside. Its fifteen minutes of fame are over.

snapshot of February day

2008-04-02T16:22:00.002-05:00

02/19/03:

1) Woman in sky blue apron running down residential street with keys jingling in hand.

2) Opposite jeans effect. College poseurs want jeans that look used--worn and faded... while cowboys who actually USE their jeans want them super-blue and crispy-starched.

3) And just what is that compu-mind occupied with anyway? Maybe it's deciding which one of us will be first to the guillotine.

4) And then he had a problem with the way I drew air across my lips and teeth to make that whistle/fart sound.

5) Pretty much solid now after three years in the freezer.

6) Yes, me.

7) It's warm, free bread and there's nothing better than that!

8) The conversion of raw grain into storable calories--the lynchpin of all civilization.

9) My hand-rendered stars look like deformed people in snowsuits.