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199.199. Golden faces with cheerful news. Now I have something to say to a banana peel.

.199 Sometime on a rather smoky summer afternoon, I maneuvered to my local pet store. I stood for twenty minutes staring at all the goldfish they had. Suddenly, I was noticed and a clerk came over to me. I asked her why it seemed to me that all their goldfish had been getting smaller over the years. The clerk chuckled and said, You've been standing here for over an hour and you haven't noticed this thing. She tapped the tank with her knuckle and a group of goldfish nearby tried to race away. Though, they only knocked into the others. I gathered my tarnished nugget, and while still looking at the front of the tank, I said, I was told it wasn't a space issue. I could see the clerk continue with her line smile, and without either one of us moving our faces on the glass, she said, I'm sorry, did you want an application. She said it kinda sadly too. We were all quiet, carefully reflecting for sometime, in the falling snow.

198sh. Nice shoes. Thanks. Whenever this guy took the slightest step in them, a group of people in concert, following close behind him, would almost violently start to shake their hands. It was odd to say the least. But that's only half of it. While they shook, a fat lady in Roman armor, striking a heroic pose some distance away, shouted with a wonderful stentorian voice, A penguin without shoes is a travesty! That apparently was some kind of cue which set off the guy into singing O Holy Night. When he was done everyone clapped. I really don't have any other reason why I walk barefoot. I guess I like the feel of the earth beneath my feet.

snail197.02. This other kid, I mistook for a rock because of all the thick layers it had on. Gosh darn, I did it again. I'm awful today. Cling. Cling. Waiter! This was ice tea. Right away, sir.

197. Why didn't I just concur?! I should've just concurred. Experience the dead while living dead. The brutes of concrete have left us much to admire. Donate here to preserve. Let's dig up the last forest to feel that ancient sensation one last time. All right. On our way back we stopped for slushies. One kid shot himself. That was messy. And slowly, the rest followed suit from the ensuing brain freezes. There's so many names for brain freezes today. Where my heroes at. Don't get me wrong, some who weren't kids enjoyed the icy mix and the helium balloons. I betcha the parents are still smiling, dreaming of new markets on some far away planet just like ours. I'm the worst. I'm sorry, I am unfamiliar with all of Charles Dickens' works, especially his sci-fi stuff.

196. I bid my tongue a healthy breath. Don't ruin my rainbow. This can't be happening. Capri pants will end me. Group home. Everyone pipe down. Now, where did I put my handbag? God's right over there.

a195.4. Guess what, new rule: you're not the Librarian, so be quiet. Kids are trying to read. I suggest, if you need something to do, provide instruction and material on covering up. Otherwise, shush.

a195forya. After repeatedly being scolded never to judge a book by its cover, a few brave kids have taken that excellent advice to heart. Even if the cover of a kid's most cherished book gets damaged beyond recognition, that kid will find the love of those pages within undiminished because the words on those pages mean more than anything. Perhaps, the kid will appreciate it greater. But why kids are also told only to find one book at a time, or why some books are forbidden from their inquisitive minds - we now know all that nonsense is just a bad Mary Sue. Let kids read what they want. Let them check out and experience books from every section, if they want. My only concern is that they cover up when they sneeze.

hot194. To be ever so irrational, these and so many other walls must be allowed to fall.

193.pie. How could you just walk by that and not give it a double take? I had my fiber.

191blu. Let's tone this issue out. I'm simply going to crawl right back into my penis and hide. Sir, we seemed to have misplaced your banana hat. No, it's there. Ah, yes, the wonderful map of rationality, carefully secured by attending our elite schools, or the brilliant genius picking up the tab.

189cc. Oh, bravo! Another addition, what novelty. And the name is going to be based on which character? I need a permit to see trees and rivers. I see, the only book you've actually read. Because all your friends read the same book, too. Rush to have another, why, of course, the more the better. I need a permit to camp on a mountain. Naturally, you couldn't stop at two, or three, or four, or...ten. You live on a farm, no. I'm told I can't stand there. I'm told to stand here and wait my turn. But there's parks near where you live, where you can jog with strollers and other miracles of our age. Oh, dear, no, no, no, we don't take life for granted. We prove it by having litters that consume litters. Has anyone seen an oak tree, anyone?

sip185. We plant trees to feel good. Wow, what? I didn't say a thing. I didn't want it to become awkward.

179.89s. The most sinister plan with a butter knife involved making a sandwich and having the goodwill to cut it into squares to share with the team. I know, squares! But guns aren't firmly in cold, dead hands. Man, do they get feet. They want to go everywhere. So do the bullets. But what about the private sphere? The whata? That's a question for the ladies. And in today's wilderness, there's too many trigger-happy maniacs out there, all too eager to bag a five foot sasquatch. Nice, quiet walks are a thing of the past. What flavor did I step in today? Do I even look down to check? It's the combination of the ingredients that literally puts lives at risk - and, frankly, to be even more succinct - guns and bullets, not unlike cigarettes, should follow the dodo.

179.8854. The worst are those rabid spiritless creatures who now roam the serious earth. They feel more than compelled to raise a new mighty finger in everyone's face like an angry substitute teacher; they go on and on as if all the blood soaked in the pages of history was worth nothing. To-create-soul-less-beings. I like robots that bring me toast, not a new multiplication table. They, too, need to learn to be quieter. And they know where they can stick that finger of theirs.

When the typical 179.885 insecure man hears meatless, he worries how much smaller will his penis get. So, naturally, he goes to the garage, grabs his favorite pole, and takes off to some quiet spot on a lake to compensate. Usually, another companion comes along, preferably a son, maybe a daughter, even an immature idiot would be a welcome distraction, to help remedy those private insecurities swimming around in the man's shallow waters. Sadly, for him, they're the only ones biting.

179.87x. I want a thirty page report on it by Thrusday - no graphs, smartass! I have something else to share today. Perhaps nothing else sums up our angry decorating skills than our obsession with where we apply our anti-control bumperstickers. Only, it's sorta comical, to do it on a machine, that, by any other standard, you'd think we all live in a dire police state.

178. We even blame each other for not being good enough hens. That cracks me up every time. I've never seen so many hens in need of a reality check. So many of them think, one day, they'll just become a farmer. Meanwhile, the farmer's laughing all the way to market and back. Stupid replaceable hens.

+169. We actually pride ourselves on our stuck doors. We really do. I don't buy land like I don't buy cheese. Quiet you. No one cares about your cow references.

16eightpoint1. We march when we should skip.

157.77. Once his shoes fell off he stopped running. I didn't. I kept running like a mad devil. Guilty as charged, and I made a little bow with my hat, spilling my tea. Then you shouldn't talk.

157.76. Don't you sense it? What? Nevermind.

157.74. Pray, snivel people, be good. I am the irrational shore. A present from me, to me. Why don't you run? I do. I do! In circles of redundant fun.

157. It's a time honored tradition that no one cleans out the freezer. It stinks like hell, too. I don't think adding more baking soda is going to help. It's so chilly out here.

152.1. The other pertinent question: Has anyone seen my cherry lip balm? There's really no limit to innovation unless it's got a uterus. Well, then, we just police the hell out of that grab sack.

1fiftytwo. We're boxed in and we're boxed out. But this doesn't prevent us from asking such pertinent questions such as, Nothin', and you? Depress'd, you? Everything, you too?

one5one. Look kid, I already told ya. We've already got our megacity hall, our grand central station, our east malls, our west ramps, our post-postmodern energy homes, our gardens and central parks, our security centers, our towers and late night bars; look kid, if somethin' comes down, sure, you'll be the first one I'll call, but look at this stack of applications, I mean, you're lookin' at nearly every kid in the world wanting the same thing you want. I'm sorry kid, you're too late. We're closed out.

Everyone150. has climbed on it. No one dare leaves. It no longer communes with the sky. In our haste, this once proud and mighty Tree is pulled down to Earth; to a consoling level and our problems find neighbors who readily agree; and, this once Mountain Tree is no more than a weeping willow, fruitless, tearful, our House of Flee.

148lls. Don't worry, there'll always be a way to print more money to build more fences. Virtual money building virtual walls, baby. Now, I'll take you to my place and we'll slow dance the night away. Yuck, you smell like hotdogs.

say146. Gee, gramps, why'd ya stop at the graffiti? I mean, the whole block is an eyesore and undeveloped. Orange bricks, Christ! How pedestrian. And look, it totally matches the next five city blocks. The whole horizon uniformly the same. What talent! Seriously, it's the graffiti that upsets you and not those cabbages? Oye, I just spilled hotdog on my trousers. I smell like hotdog.

135.023. Here a walrus. There a walrus. Everywhere a walrus. Walrus! How are the rest of us suppose to eat here?

135.0225. Everything else can disappear in the night, but by God, there will be protocol. Smarter planet, my ass. Quiet, you. Um, um, um, um, I mean, these are unprecedented times, um, um, indefinite detention for failed state actors, yum, yum, yum, yum. Protocol ensured nothing became awkward and that billions had the best damn dinner ever. Oh, sure, I got time, one more photo - for the kids. Posterity will understand. The real fear is are we morally bankrupt. Where there would've been real parades, we are no where to be found.

135.022. Nothing encourages me any more. Ha! What a divine thing to say!

135.020. The Keeper of Fruit was caught napping and fishing. Wouldn't that be grand? Nap all day and night and be loved all the more. I tried doing the same thing, even with a grand plan in mind, but no! I was called a deadbeat parent and dragged back to court. No excuses, no distractions. I'm too human to believe in grand plans. I cannot turn my back on basic human decency. The here and now molds my hands. Never folds them.

135.019. The great thing about purging the wild in my lifetime, my senses have turned to a normal state. We'll run some studies, but I think the experts will agree.

135.018. That of the whole empire, I alone may be what I am, I alone will keep me there.

135.017. Developed begins at a gate. Locked and secured. There, now it's developed. So wonderfully primitive with all those security gadgets. Have you ever seen a living man rot? The same smoky angles on perpetual loop. Didn't matter, the one view he missed sacked his own heart. A caterpillar in the rain is such a dear waste, my God, Johnny; and of course I'm not just talking about caterpillars. Private enterprise is the cat's meow, so let's capture it, organize it, and make it smarter, but still call it private. It's not just flashing film anymore, it's everything overload. Will we detect a heartbeat?

135.016. Our attention is worth a lot more than a honk. Maybe a wink. But never a square mustache. This ain't boobs and bananas.

135.015. Life lesson: It's not a space issue, the lion said to the ant. The square to the dot said the same thing. As did the star to the moon. Then even the moon said it to a passing rock.

135.014. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Sure enough, commonly said.

135.012. When whole cities and communities spring up, that's it. That's it until what? When? Who knows? Generations of pioneers sit with their cold idle hands. A solitary existence can take on many parallel forms. We are encased in a frozen world by artists long dead, and most of them weren't even artists. Look at your own house then back to your neighbor's. On to the next project before they sink. Spring to winter has never happened so fast. And everyone knew the dangers of winter when nothing fruitful had been planted. My God, there's nothing to harvest. Too late.

135.011. Why? Why is it so hard to see? Is it because we still can disagree? She looked with furrowed brow. We build robots. Neat. We eat with our bibs and with our hands. We have nine month obsessions. We get organized so that we can lose it all again. We have cars. There's the ticket. We get to visit piles of leaves. Hurrah. Some tend to toliets, and some tend to their gardens, and perhaps a few even walk the great mountain ranges and storied trails. Now all with sign posts and warnings. Ah, I know, it's words. Our language has grown to include the fantasy realm of possibilities. Just you wait. They're bringing Woolly back. Them other boys don't know how to act. Beautiful, oh, so beautiful. Just look at the frozen lake. From the window of a heated hotel room. You're still standing in it. Boss man, I just Vaculik'd you!

135.010. We are maintenance workers and preservers, the sort who spend their lives on committees ensuring everything is all it ever was; change has become something rather meaningless like a wider sidewalk or a new line of trees; and, anyone who dares to suggest otherwise, like a different path with no paths, is quickly silenced by the insurmountable tasks involved. Alone. We probably should be grateful to our fathers, they couldn't lay pipe straight, among so many other things, and the work now - the sort of work that would be considered unreportable - this work requires my best talents. We must get back to work. We are developing a better world.

135.009. The solitary among all this preservation is nearly destroyed. One can't even toss cookies like a rabbit without a hand on one's back; or a few drunks joining the cold party. We toss for completely different reasons.

135.008. Are you cold. Jacket? No, that's the easy way out. But, sir, your hands? I know, I know. Let them rot.

135.007. I have twelve faces of stone. That was two of them.

135.006. From horizon to horizon, this whole place is undeveloped. Someone was allowed to dump miles of concrete here and here. Someone was allowed to dump a pool of concrete here, here, here, here, and over there, there, and there. Someone was even allowed to dump a towering moutain of concrete all over and up here. Paradise. Someone is quite silly.

135.005. The cow. A thousand questions disguised as black and white. I shall never forgive it for so placidly chewing the grass. Never.

135.003. Finding Caesar at the wooden table high above my nose, I asked politely about our weather. Caesar paused for a minute. The excess cooking oil had formed a crust around his pursed lips and some had found his chins. He continued to stare deeply into his chicken leg, but said nothing. Soon enough he was back chewing to the bone, and I ventured off. This time skipping. I'm as subtle as a cactus.

135.002. Every building, every sidewalk, every tree is one less spice for me. I got all kinds of tastebuds, ready.

135.001. In the beginning there was silence. The solitary silence of solitude. This seclusion, this seperation has not changed.

135pba. Praise be alone.

134. I often wonder what kind of show I'm missing when the Top Hats in front, keep standing and applauding, blocking my view. I must like the music. Maybe, one day, I'll ask the Kaiser (name dropper) - not with that leash. Why not just leave the theater? Leave?! I'm making light of it. That's a sort of joke. I can see my breath and a few tracks in the snow. I walk with my last breath trailing me, under the street lights, the only stars above: dim, broken, pathetic; while a soft snow continues to fall. I can't help notice a more compacted path to the bar below. I found the crown in the gutter. I am blood, not water. See how every solitary angel knows. The tragic courage of a clown. Where I have my rose bed of flowers. Raise me alone.

pu133. We've determined like good birds with clipped wings to build nests around every telegenic species in order to ensure equal protection and mutual survival. For what's left. Good for us. We fix the dice. Neat. Now, I get the earth, and you and the grass and the sheep get what's left. Balance of course is the purpose of all life, like string puppets. The instant we began to maintain the wild, we killed it.

#132...Everyone is a bit math nutty these bleak days because of the varieties of smells one is constantly exposed to on every short adventure. Let's see, stopped for gas, minus five minutes for inhaling that heavenly smell; shave off another five because you forgot the kid at the grocery store near those hog farms. Except to be really accurate, you'd have to be a genius like Ramanujan or, maybe a wizard like Hawking, to also include the math from the stinking water; unless, you drink pop all day, then in that case you got filtered water and are living like a prince.

$24g. Perhaps, there won't be any more reason to run with scissors.

123. That's a large patch of grass there on that small island. But it's all grass. Naturally, cut all alike. All oenophiles know, with the right balance in mind, an oak tree requires no more space than a blade of grass.

ssh121boy. Every building, every sidewalk, every tree is one less vote for me.

b119. Oh, boy, there's nothing more bigger picture than when cranky crustaceans stumble over the latest crazy Internet buzz word - they always repeat it, too, and add they don't know what kids are up to. A little pity laughter only encourages the old farts to babble on at length about who's a pinhead and who's a patriot. Pinch me, I must be dreamin'. Same squirts, different toliets. If that's what's produced with long attention spans, dear me! Click!

hb118.35. All sorts of normal people are heroically divesting what they can very easily divest. Quickly, write the book. Best seller before it's out. Slap a glossy cover around these humble, humble souls. These pioneers of this wonderful new age have really set the bar. A jury of my betters said my comedy ends at home. Little did they know, I'm hard of hearing and nod to everything.

118%. Quiet. The privileged are hunting. A bit of population control goin' on. Fences just won't do it for everyone. And ideals make the best decoys! We all know the story. We all read the same statistics. Click and the reader's gone - outrage over, till the next link! And most shocking of all is that winter has only begun to set in.

a111.11bit. What are we always removing? What's always in our way? Stones. No one carves a David out of a David. The Duke and his Council of Elders are very annoyed. Rightly so. The most annoying stone is the one that can keep coming back. Very inefficient. Stone or stones. Stone and stones. Very big deal, though. Hard to argue with a stone. Harder to silence one.

put110. Where should we go? To the park. Where should we go? To the park. Where should we go? Let's go get some pizza. Where should we go? Let's go get some pizza. Where should we go? To the park. Where should we go? I'm going to stay in. Where should we go? I'm going to stay in. Where should we go? Let's go get some pizza.

106. Every serious student should know the key will always be about efficiencies. Every serious student that studies a company's efficiencies will be richly rewarded. Every serious student understands the joke of the past century.

ea10r5. Stewardship Wars: at first, as it was with Christ, the end of the world was soon expected and so some people gave up their things and their ways and waited. Cocktail, sir? No, bring me my shield.

fr101. Solitude creates gods and silence keeps them honest.

100.02. A loaded bird with a bad case of the squirts let loose from high up in a nearby tree. Meanwhile, the supercomputers that had predicted all this, thousands and thousands of miles away, in record nanoseconds, had notified an Internet startup company of the bird's data breach. Then almost fifteen minutes later, just before the "if we're not there in fifteen minutes, the job is free," a lackadaisical guy - let's call him, Zark - showed up to wipe up the silly mess. My God, the efficiency. I'm a Zarker. Let's build a dumber planet. That's what I'm kinda workin' on.

100.0125. Neat. That's a slick new pink pen. Tell me about it. I bought this pen in honor of my hard working mother and her mother so that a tiny percentage could go to finding a cure someday. Oh. I'm writing my letter with my pink pen demanding an end to starving the breast. Well done.

100.01. An army of trained volunteers and complete strangers tackle, fight, and kill the world diseases to Lady Liberty. That's called heroism! An army of trained (volunteer) doctors and nurses to fight for everyone's deserving last breath - that's the end of the world or worse! And yet, I can't have one without the other.

on100e. We live in the most technologically advanced age where tapes can be destroyed, evidence can be fabricated, and photos withheld. In other words, nothing's changed. A new wonderful defense for 21st century war criminals: Never forget! The nerve! How vulnerable are we.

99.998. Those who speak about unprecedented times are guilty of the annoying "um".

96y. I fear the language of our stars. The wheat is so thick a cheerful child can stand on it.

(95.) The mass and properties of an electron can only motivate me so far. The human network is not so human.

94jjjjjjjj. A two thousand year old lesson and they're still quacking like mad ducks. I mean, it's so simple. I wonder how much longer it'll take for them to understand the lesson. It's quite embarrassing.

pa93.2. I check a clock, time to go. Bad night at the bowling alley. Oh. Another night that's been bled to boredom. Now, I do not believe in stars anymore than I believe in Hercules.

93. Twelve men walked into the sea. Five and two men drowned. Now, this is the strangest part: I don't know what the hot air balloon was for. She didn't say. Half the men still have hiccups to this very day. You're missing the point about turtles having shoulders.

`81kds. Overheard at the playground: I've never experienced openness. Covered by towering shadows, a swell parent slowly got down on one knee, smiled a grand smile, and pointed high above. Life lesson. The pursuit of a certain floor. Soon enough dolls learn they can't fly. Enough said.

We must crawl out of our eyes at some point, my friends. A well made bed is a wonderful accomplishment and painting has its rewards. Good manners are important, don't get us wrong. But there's a time when our long fingers will become numb to a well established fire and that could end a journey before it even got underway. Smooth hands are our clue. seveneight.

g77h. Previously there's always been hard shells. But previously there's always been new shores to get new hard shells. Now everything smells of vomit and piss.

u76. But wait! The great big world of introspection - as if that domain could hold a madman!

75:--) With every modern day farmer lacking any kind of self-discipline, those once thoughtful solitary walks among the high oaks have become sadly impossible in this day in age. Rows and rows of mustard seeds litter the landscape as far as one wishes to see...She'll be as barren as the moon soon enough.

Rome was 70as. sacked like a cheeseburger. The pioneers of shopkeepers' happiness had their way with the abundant resources of their day. Naturally, they spread out further, conquered and slaughtered what was in their way, and built, built, built! Great for them, but now we are so often forced to honor and preserve their excess vanities. Careful, don't hit your head. Careful, no running. Forty centuries look down upon us and we have nowhere to go in our century. But wait!

70fas. A new songbird is the easiest thing to accept or reject. Or continue to ignore the barking elephants.

aa69. Put a frog in a pan filled with water and fancy it to a boiling temperature. So smug are you, you ease and even let out a smart little chuckle. Ah, but you are as part of this age as I am - and I'm no frog.

68f. Soon, they won't be so kind. It is up to the men to stop further bloodshed. Enough mistakes. Coats prevent colds. No more excuses. Not now. Not when so much is at stake.

67. Skyscrapers, malls, and lots. Roads, bridges, and ramps. My friends, the Top Hat is the ultimate socialist trap. But look at all those socks! The Machine: it's the greatest leveler ever! My maid tells me there's a grocery store on nearly every block - now that's progress that one can sink their teeth into. Watermelons all year, oh my! The pain-in-the-neck individual (there's always one pencil-neck weasel) who disagrees with this mob progress - this scoundrel is caught in a frozen prison. Don't move! Those guards are trigger happy. Sociomagination dominates like a cold front. What little property is available to play with is so far out of reach and worthless - idle hands! Adults in bibs? And there's nothing that signals the pounding will be stopped. Preservation is the cornerstone of every advanced society. It's all the rage. Are you blind?

66. The grand tour is boring.

wh60ty. Sprawling infastructure. Concrete as wide as oceans. Swirling oceans of plastic. Plastic children. Nevermind. Ignored cries of exploitation. Sweatshops and firewalls. Rapes and genocides. Starvation, torture, extinctions. Nevermind. Go forth - Your club sandwich, sir - run, run, run! And some people still wonder why they call them frontiers. They're golden!

wh58t. Peel the snakes off your skin and discover your own driving tongue.

57i. All the magnifying glasses and microscopes in the world won't solve the wintery issues of idle hands. And not just the hands!

57. Ah, yes, the caterpillar - in deepest solitude - became the flying flower. Yes, yes, I remember. This smallest of wonders had the sublime power to make the whole world tremble. A great long time ago. Why?

26. How powerful is Silence? Ask an earthquake. See how the stone laughs and leaves.

s25. Funny isn't it, that even children know to have proper concern for a lost cow.

qq23. An archer in a dome is the worst.

23.7. What happens when your talent isn't running up into the mountains?

R23. Every good society uses concrete. I believe there you'll find the murderer.

23. When a thread becomes a blanket: neuroscientists are this age's gross answer. An untimely promise? I will do these Coats all the mischief I can.

The teapot! The teapot! 22. Pour the tea closer into the rosebud and let it drink the newest discovered flavor. Colleagues, forty seconds look down upon us.

bb21. Who would've Solitude been without his youthful pension? Perhaps a great deal quieter? No one is quite sure since no one has raised the question. There are no more scented islands in the clouds, and I for one, eye a very different Island.

20oo. Not every walk is strictly for the birds. Caesar rode on a unicorn, but quickly chipped a tooth on a blanket. It's not impossible to kiss Caesar's back. You're right, Solitude, one day the resolve will be to shatter the sword.

19. When I go fishing at my favorite pond, I always use my trusty line, hook, and bait. The same fishing tactical I've used for years. I like the feel and durability of it. I know what works. Anyway, I always sit at the same spot and once I'm set, I really let my line go. It goes out pretty far and makes a splash so far out I have trouble seeing where it went. My methods work because I pull 'em in, one after another. All day long and I'm not ever tired. I love fishing. Easiest way to secure a meal.

Q. While it's been said a hundred times, and one more time won't hurt, a day in the shade, makes the sun go away. I find it gravely annoying that every grave is given flowers and a pleasant arrangement just around important holidays. But what is lacking with every flowery grave site is the full story. Dates are like skipping stones.

17. It's been confirmed two Smirks are valued more than a billion active smiles.

16BE. The rapid Processes of Elimination are in full swing. What a static. A smarter planet, my ass. We'll be stinking simpletons before we even know it. Someday, we'll all be standing in lines for overhyped devices and, perhaps, a few of us will snicker over old Huxley. Boy, did he get things wrong, a few of us will say. There was no need for mind control when everyone's so content to stand in lines.

15. Folks, the revolting stench from our rivers has become the new norm and while I like a strong knockout punch from time to time, the great reality is that flying purple-pink dinosaurs should've long been extinct and I'm tired of being chased by them.

14. Everyone and their dog belongs to, or sits on, or attends some kind of committee which - I swear to molasses, if my neighbor doesn't put that clothesline down for good, I'll report him again. He's a real troublemarker, my neighbor. He's the type of guy who can't tell a shade of banged red from virgin pink. Believe me, I brought that up at the last committee meeting. Forced him to repaint his whole ugly house. I'm going to be watching him like a hawk from now on.

d11. Far too many morons are regurgitating old ideas with new names, names that are more advertisable, and slapping new glossy covers on them. It's bad enough they're doing that, but they're receiving all sorts of ridiculous acclaim for these rediscoveries. The back cover disgusts me. I mean, I rip it off whenever I get a chance. I can't stand it. I guess everyone wants their back scratched, too. So pretty soon everyone is just repeating everyone else. There just isn't enough high life to go around and today's writers are such a terribly lazy, ignorant bunch. I especially get a kick out of those proud morons who lay claim to dozens of desert valleys.

11. To avoid being a chat, I'll keep this one simple. There are two things that forever must be outlawed: hard drugs and capri pants, which I realize are two problems of the same crooked fold.

10r. It is often said by random machines that a flower can cheer up almost anyone. I couldn't've said it better. Then I get sad again because my printer is always out of juice and, oh, sixlets, it's not like you can smell it, anyway.

9. Noble Silence. You've probably never heard of it. I made it up just now. But I bring it up to make a point. The slightly lunatic bunch of desperate, out-of-work stage performers who think every floor is their stage and every person an audience really ought to be mindful that the quiet air and tiny space between us all are no excuses to start spouting their utter nonsense. Talking might very well be the disease that everyone has heard but didn't even know existed.

T!Q. There were the fabrications. The delusions of parades. The decks of cards just to make it real. There were innocents with connected heads, but who now thinks about that anymore. There were the uses of mushrooms (in the form of clouds). There was the bibical tone; and prayers of guidance that had to be expressed with conventional force. There was the patriotic language, decorated with noble ideals (like doing nothing until we needed something), and duties. And, of course, there was the revenge even if it was misplaced, altered, and not in any way in proportion. Now, I don't have to remind you this simplification has equally lead to more fulfilled lives where hardliners have embraced democracy, equality, and all kinds of rational tolerances. Celebrate with a beer, no? Well, you'll have to wheel yourself north.

TP. I nearly died laughing after I heard one cheeseball say, "...bullying and intimidation are not acceptable ways to conduct foreign policy in the 21st century." That was rich. Then a few years later, a big rotten liar added his own spin to things and said, "...that war is sometimes necessary, and war is at some level an expression of human feelings." The latter was gifted some now meaningless prize. What a bunch of princes. I laughed for them because when you're that off from reality it's really sorta sad.

Qup6.7. Behold impressionables! Of course, Suits and Suits are masters of material-support and have just as effectively silenced their enemies.

8. I've never seen more fruitloops in my life. That's not to say I haven't had my fair share of hearty breakfasts before. Boy, let me tell ya, five or six bowls of the stuff will make anyone a really cranky devil. But when I watched all those efforts to prolong The Big Head's sickness after his wobbly rule and all, I mean, what else would you call the followers of that true faith that promises the perfect getaway, and yet every fruitloop is scared as hell to let go of this world. What a racket.

E.5. Raising children right is a mighty obsession. Because our capacity to take revenge on those who trespass against us has been compromised, we instead push to have babies, and not just one or two, but whole litters - and there's our little revenges playing now. We will teach them the rights and wrongs of a morally bankrupt world, where our good, will finally be on full display. Only our storm clouds linger, thunder rages on the woods, and the rain comes down in sheets all the same; all this, on what the child sees as a perfectly sunny spring day. Something in that child makes us regret our push. So we blame it more than ever.

E. I hate it when farmers disseminate their mustard seeds into anything that can pee on its own and comes expecting a smaller bureaucracy to take care of all the little affairs that arise when they've planted so much and more than necessary. What a static. They treat 'em like barnyard animals. But those farmers got them rights and them guns and that inane Mandate or so they think and, actually, they aren't even farmers.

7. Ladies and gentlemen, come quickly. Don't be left out. Reserve your place: the Great Static Exhibit is filling up fast, folks. Coming to a town near you. Reserve your spot or be sorry. C'mon folks, don't be shy. Oh, I like that energy from that guy - knocked down three orphans to get here. Quickly now, you hear. Limited availability. Reserve now.

6. The age without new shores. Oh, there's a great deal of hype about introspection, and they'll clear a single path into that, too, but there seems to me a real dread about addressing the world's external limits. A real nightmare for those sick and tired of the same old spices. They don't even make us sneeze anymore and that was so cute back then. Where are we going to get new spices? Clearly, not anywhere close-close.

5. Old Newty, I'm told, ended up being a virgin all his life. After I quickly jotted down that most excellent factoid in my school notebook, I added, What's going to be my excuse? While old Newty may have had grand reasons to the why, let us less inspirational folks not load down impressionables the great horrors of something that is quite natural and a great deal of fun. Upon disclosing the more finer details of this wobbly age, it must be confessed, there are a huge number of mustard seeds being planted and produced. It just makes you sad knowing even a genius like old Newty believed in elaborate wigs and divine tweaks. I bet old Newty would've been a swell dentist. He looks like a guy that likes cheerful choppers.

4. When the film ended and the big screen went black, almost everyone was shocked it all ended in such ambiguity.

3a. 'Cause a girl's gotta check things out. Headstand. Just make sure you've gotta tunning fork with ya. Changes everything.

3. Most kids, nowadays, are real lemons. A superfluous whiny bunch. Not a hero among them, to tell you the truth. Granted, I'll be the first to acknowledge they take the physical shapes of watermelons or pears, but personality wise, they're sour lemons. Taken as a whole, they're wonderful little nihilists. While just as irritating, a few of the more foul type are so unabashedly analytical about everything, they really know how to ruin a party. They constantly poke at things they shouldn't and they touch everything with their sticky little fingers. It's so nauseating watching all this happen. They really do have a knack at damn near ruining what's best of Being.

2.16. The only forest I see is where woods and martinis mix and birds are something scored.

2. Let me indulge my senses for a moment and be the first to note a great discovery of mine. On my frequent short walks, I have observed that nothing grows on stone, or glass, or, for that matter, even iron. It's truly amazing to me that I would be the first to reach such a cursory observation. And yet everywhere I look, everywhere I stand, I am surrounded by these stubborn materials. This advancement to Life is quite remarkable.

1. Past the discolored curtains that no longer sway, through the grimy screen with the million tiny squares, and a millimeter further beyond the cruddy window bars, lies a world, astonishingly, so few recognize. Behold, the greatest modern museum! Look how it's all maintained. Such beauty is hard to describe, but that doesn't prevent analysts dry attempts. So much of everything has become preserved, regulated, censored, chained and fenced off from the public. The great artists have long left. A straight path has been provided and, though, admission is high, the Great Cicerone will ensure risks will be kept at a minimum.

0. As a desperate man I began my search for gold under the Par 5. After six days of impatient searching, I found nothing. A great hate for all things grew inside me. Nothing pleased me, except, of course, for my ambrosial vegan brownie. It didn't last. I had foolishly thought early in my life that I was special, in some way unique. Oh, what delusions. Oh, what terrible miseries fell upon me. My knees and palms were soon caked in mud. I could barely stand on my own. So parched and hungry and growing ever more frightful was I. Yet, for some reason, some madness I know not, I pushed on. On the seventh day I worked harder than ever before. I dug everywhere and I left no stone untouched. At the end of my long day, I fell to my knees and cried out to the heavens. As I looked up in search for pity, a most beautiful garden suddenly appeared before me and in the middle of that glorious garden there was a mysterious and strange-shaped stone. With my last bit of strength, I pulled all my sorrows and all my hopes over to the enchanting stone. With great pain, I picked up the magnificent stone and held it in my left hand. Instantly, a shrill little cry came out of me - a peep! I smiled and turned a little red. Very soon, though, I was overwhelmed with new thoughts and joys. I named my stone: peep-stone. And with my peep-stone in my left hand an incredible surge of strength and confidence filled my entire body. For the next forty days and forty nights I searched many courses in search for gold. It took one more long, industrious day for my dreams to finally come true!

It was a beautiful day. I'll try to describe it. As heaven's golden eye magnificently crowned me with her golden rays, about noon I'd say, my peep-stone led me to a series of gold plates buried near a weeping willow. Upon further inspection I noticed on each golden plate there were marvelous and strange writings. I jumped up in joy! A split second later, a spectacular flash of pure white light stunned me. And it came to pass I finally came to and beheld a glorious angel who floated like a crisp cloud in front of me. I flinched and prayed and tried to touch it. And it came to pass the glorious angel spoke thus to me, "You must translate the writings from these precious gold plates into beautiful peaks and sallies and put them online every day or so on the website unvmesir.com. Your website will be prosperous and flow like milk and honey. New writings will appear so your milk won't stink to high heaven. The perfect insight and wisdom from each entry will keep visitors coming to your website forever and ever. No, stop shaking your head at me. Go forth and convert. This is all." And so this is my story.

And so it came to pass that I did what I was told many years later from that most perfect sacrosanct day. The marvelous entries I share are translations from the gold plates I found with my magical peep-stone. I have sworn to secrecy about revealing anything else. The gold plates are in my possession and only a few crusty older gents have seen them. They, too, have sworn to secrecy about all other details.

-1. Upon disclosing to the world my greatest strength and secret to success, please forgive my hesitations and please ignore me as I shuffle my feet a bit. To everyone who is here today, this moment signifies a new low, which is a terrific thing. Now...pardon me...now the time has come to disclose what I call dynamic diffidence. Yes, dynamic diffidence. Dynamic diffidence is an acknowledgment of your complete inferiority to all others. You should have less confidence in yourself in the spotlight than pests like church mice and cochroaches. You should even feel inferior to the orange goo inside office microwaves. At the very least you should feel neglected and abused. No one should ever seek your input for any reason and you should have none to give if they ever do. Let not a peep, greeting, or any kind of sound eke out of you. That is the goal and as I see most here will have no problem reaching this goal. What are you waiting for? Excuse me for that, a little diffidence humor. Moving on. Dynamic diffidence has been called by many of the top titans of business as "revolutionary," - that was from a dead cousin of mine, "500 feet!," "just what we need more dynamic crap," "who the hell are you," and "get out of my office". Dynamic diffidence challenges many misconceptions that workers face everyday. The facts are no one cares how long it's been since the gumballs in the gumball machine were last replaced or why we can't use an envelope moistener tube to kiss the boss's ass (which is much more sanitary). These, my shy friends, are exactly why you need to adopt the dynamic diffidence program. Stop wasting your life - become dynamic in something. What is dynamic diffidence comprised of? Well, if you must know. Dynamic diffidence is comprised of three important steps each designed to maximize the neglected wimp living inside each of you. The first step is immersion. The second step is coordinated coughing fatigue which will slowly destroy your vocal cords and essentially make you a mute. The third step is halitosis. This last step is simply a last resort because you really shouldn't ever open your mouth for anything, not even for pale gumballs. Now that you know a little about dynamic diffidence, I hope you will find somewhere the courage to sign-up for my thousand dollar program and be sure to write the check out for yours truly.

-2. When a lizard crawled out of the water fountain it made a s-dash to the cotton candy vendor's cart and asked the guy working it, "Are you going to play nice or am I going to have to get prehistoric on your monkey ass?" Luckily, the cotton candy guy was pretty placid about the whole thing, perhaps, a bit high on life, so the guy just shrugged his shoulders and instantly wove a delicious stick of pink stuff and handed it over without charge, thus, ensuring the great balance between man and dinosaur would endure another million platypus years. Let it be known throughout the land that if you happen to cross such a hostile, but overall good hearted lizard, please don't fuck it up for all of humanity. Just give the little bellicose bitch what he wants so we can keep the peace.

-2.5pat. Sunday Worship Well, boy, this is what I do. Look here, boy. First, you've got to know your cuts. So many dopes out there, my God. Pay attention, boy. I'm giving you the life lesson. Remember, out do your peers and know your slices of meat, my boy. Knowing that, you'll go far. Crazy far. You understand me. Second, skip church, and for heaven's sake, start early. I know it drives that mother of yours just crazy, but - Jesus, boy, pay attention to what your old man is saying. Here. Smell it. Cut it this morning. What's the matter? Like hell, we don't own 'em. You got your mother's smarts and that worries the pants off me. Start early, boy. Bloody sharp early. What I'm saying here is the God honest word, the only gospel you need. A man's grill is his true church. This is your calling, my boy. And this, this cow's ass, our sacrifice to the gods. Touch it, boy. Isn't that good looking. Now, look down over there. That there is what knuckleheads who know no better call natural gas. But, boy, that's the holy spirit and you better pay good attention to it. Now, lite the match, my boy. Let us bow our heads and cook. You dropped it. Christ, you dropped it. You pathetic little - boy, if your mother wasn't around, I swear. Pick it up. Pick it up and stop crying, or you'll be wearing it, boy. I bet you aren't even mine. You don't even look like me anymore. Oh, that's right, go, leave. Run to that whore. a moment of silence followed, and then This is why I start early.

-3A. A friend of mine noticed me and then gestured with his face and eyes that something on my face was out of whack. He circled his own face with one of his fingers, round and round repeatedly, and said as he gestured, "Kids with mallets? Kids? With Mallets?" I replied looking very solemnly, "KGB. And they think you need Jesus, too."

-4B. A small bird soaked in black was promptly cleaned and after a long recovery it was released back into the wild. The now smaller bird flew left and right and left some more and finally came to rest upon a telephone line near a high building. The bird sat and sat and sat until the human spectators and their cameras left. Then as it sensed how late in the season it truly was, promptly took off and flew northward. The bird naturally stopped at various crowded parking lots and farm fields for something to eat as it continued along its slow journey. Until one day a zealous farmer with a field so big, no trees could be seen horizon to horizon, shot and promptly killed it. The investment had to be saved. Indeed, the investment saved was the equivalent of a dozen beans rolling out of some harvest trucks on the way to town. Apparently, shooting is free. Quite naturally, the hiccup comes before the cough.

-4C. A ferret, a rabbit, a crocodile, and a red squirrel were all sitting in a row in this white waiting room. God (and you'd have to be to tell which was which) didn't smile. I asked this lady with a clipboard what was with all the animals looking funny. She wrote something down and said to the whole group, "All right, penguins, the people want to see smiles. Just smiles." She sort of said it nasty too. That was it. I put on my own costume. I was real nervous and all. And we all filed out of the room. I hate streamers, and damn near tripped on the falling balloons. I had this thing down pat.

-4d. little one, little won

little one, little won
busted out red
far from the sun
hear, here: the dead

little one, little won
chipped in faces
no where to run
all day: rat races

little one, little won
pushed all day
life nev'r begun
god's love: our way

little one, little won
caged like stones
death's not done
ignore their moans

little one, little won
pressed for glory
nothing's more fun
we write the story

little one, little won
demoted to thing
nothin' but a'pun
silence! we're king!

little one, little won
masked as life
stun after stun
fakers, more knife

little one, little won
injected for us
rivers that run
a life of puss

little one, little won
shocked to death
death be done
no beat, no breath

-L. Simply put, the snake died after falling out of this large tree up over on that hill and it landed pretty hard, so it really couldn't move too much or nothin' and because it was hungry and couldn't move and all, it slowly consumed itself till it died, all by its lonesome self, which is pretty sad, to tell ya the truth because snake, or no snake, nothin' ought to die alone, except this poor fella did die alone and in such a painful way, I mean, shucks, what's a snake doin' all the way up in a tree for anyway? Well, that's the gist of it. Maybe, we'll never know why, and maybe, it's just not our place to know. Anyway, may I go and feed the grizzlies?

-R.333. In the long shadows at night, I planted my garden all around this mimic town. I planted a little extra for the rabbits and snails, the squirrels and quails. I'm told I did a very unlawful thing. I'm told that I'm not a king. I'm so ignoble, it hurts.

-10.25. These gerbils were exhausted from doing sprint runs of the play Hamlet. So tired, they clumped together as gerbils so cutely do, and they whispered each telling the other, "Don't worry friend." "Don't worry friend." "Don't worry friend." "Don't worry friend." "Don't worry friend." This as they closed their eyes and fell asleep. "Don't worry friend." End Scene.

-10.375a. Go forth!

These words choke the seas.
Thank you.
These words fly high, but are no birds.
Come again.
These words shield our flinching eyes.
Newly redesigned.
These words blind the cheetah.
New market.
These words showcase our mountains.
Do not enter.
These words silence the silent forest.
Hard hats required.
These words kill the rolling dice.
A smarter planet.
These words force new ways to walk.
The line begins here.
These words have tied my hands.
Strategic planning.
These words ruined a good week.
Be fruitful and multiply.
These words inspire community trust.
Boil your water.
These words have invented new horizons.
Now open.
These words have made new stars.
Made overseas.

-10.5pm. Told

I was told I can't build there.
I was told I can't paint there.
I was told I can't stand there.
I was told to stand here.
I was told to sit here.
I was told to lie down here.
I was told to close my eyes.
I was told the best lies.

-10.56. And then he said, get this, I am the Irrational. Did you ever hear of a more absurd thing to say? At a funeral, where no one had actually died? I nearly got out of my chair, but no one else moved, so I stayed pat. I never heard from the guy again, until, that is, until it was said he finally collapsed hugging the neck of a sewer rat. Poor devil, though, the guy was probably just getting his life turned around.

-11a. Attempt At A Recap

Here's how it all went down.
Caesar raped the cow.
Then the cow gave birth to a cowboy.
This cowboy grew up to be an architect.
Who then designed the best opium.
Then all these addicts became good people.
They elected a new caesar,
who, naturally, then
rethought the frog.
This frog finally gave birth
to a clever system that continued
till one split second
when
a blade of grass
was strapped to a rocket seat,
left for the moon,
but
splashed into the sun,
and died
all
hero.

-11q. In a distant realm, there lived the Fancy Queen who ruled over her sprawling hills with a dream-like force. This High Lady of Everything painted extra closed eyes on her rosy cheeks so that she appeared to be constantly dreaming all the time. Her people loved her so very much. Then one day, while the Queen was playing four-square with three of her most trusted soldiers, she quite suddenly burst into high laughter and had such a fit that the soldiers became very scared she might never recover.

-11x. The Circular Life

Like the dogs that
lick me
I find no palace
among men
Of my kind I am rare
To fly as the birds
or rest as a Caesar
Not I, but them before
me
The circular life is
the only one worth
living
again and again.

-13. I once knew this swell gardener. He went around planting weeping willows seeds all over town and places far and wide. One day, he was shot, died, and was never buried. On the seventh day, he rose again. I still come to sit under him and with every passing weeping willow, I smile.

-17. These Bleak Days

When they say
I chew the yellow sun
to gray and add
my eyes look unfed and we
talk of getting away, a
little color surfaces, a
small line cracks, and
so my mom tears up.
I'm happy for them.

Why doesn't it last. I grow, but
somehow in the wrong direction, I
look good, as in spring, on the up.
Yet, before I'm told, the red ax grinds.
Old rusty sands are kicked up, in the eyes.
Thunder slams, all the rage, on the woods, and
I'm,
well,
a
particle
problem
compared to
two titans
unmovable
head stones.

I chew harder these days, on black.
Sometimes smacking my gums, but
I'm unheard, but not unseen, like an ant,
though, I wish I weren't seen at all. I'm stuck
inside. Too gray, too mucky, to try, to do. It all
stains. Rains follow and often fall all night.

My mouth
shorter than that line, lays low.
I have an alive color like plastic.
A confused leaf unsure of the
right pile.
Does it matter.

My eyes are the least
unfed part of me.
I've seen enough.
Enough wind. Enough rain.
Does the sun even
come out. Enough.
Enough of these
these
bleak
days.

-17.85. We stood there. Wearing red.

-17.849. I'm afraid you're dying, Mr. Smith. No, I can't be. I have so much yet - Don't worry, Sir, I'll finish your work. No, my, heart, no. My last words are to be - and then there was silence. His friend quickly took up the pen and scribbled down Mr. Smith's last words, Hail Caesar, Mother of Grace.


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