waldopaper

Young Musicians and Dancing Grannies

Hosanna to the Lord of hosts,

The hosts of human kind. 

HM

Tac Zone Dingle: 

somewhere in the fun Republic of Chuckles Sum Gook River; 1968   

Nothing happening today, thought Dilger.  Good time to drop the acid she sent.  And about an hour later, the clusterfuck shows up.  In a jeep.  At the end of a trail.  Officers.  Who wander off so Dink and a copula other assholes steal the jeep and come back with cases of warm beer… and a refrigerator… and a generator.  It was running for about an hour and the beer was cowboy cold and Dilger is seeing winged lizards and here comes Captain Quickdraw and Baba Louie.  Farfel farfarf they say, gonna go to the clink. 

Oh says Dilger.  Where they have nice clear toilet water you can drink?  That clink?  Haw haw snort the grunts, Quickdraw unsnaps his holster and a bunch of selectors go slick slick slick.  Butterflies are floating outa Dilger silver moon and everybody is sober by sunup.  And there is still a case of ice cold.  Owe ya for that one gunny.  Put it on my fuckin tab haw haw.  Beautiful day in the neighborhood.  Until Blackburn and Watson got killed.  Dilger was high as fuck when they threw the bags on a slick.  Slick.  Slick. 

Really doesn’t get more obvious than that, does it.  Yaz But.  What does it all mean?  Nobody can say?  Mr. Natural can.  A jagoff nightclub comedian in his garage can. Yaz but.  Not CNN or MSNBC or any of the other funnels feeding the cluck-heads.  Gibberish, is it?  Word salad?  No.  It’s chicken-feed.  For the clucks who want to be practical and clip coupons.  For the bucks who can’t stop thinking about their peenie.  Anima rising is the Elephant.  Queen of queens.  Infantry… queen of battles.  Lord of hosts.    Fateful lightning n’ shit.   

Go ahead and mock the elephant.  You see it as well as I do.  Eyes are getting bad,  and I have no time for silly girls and their flat-fuck feelings. We all have had feelings hurt.  It’s different from a motorcycle crash that leaves one barking on the pavement.  Broken hearts aint like broken bones. All that bawling is saying “me suffer.”  Puppies, kittens, baby humans… all are wired to respond to that shit.  You can make a Mr. Hankey too.  And soon you will be dancing at their wedding.  And not in any room you like.  Fool.  You’ll be bawling like grandpa.   

Honest eye dew.