Sunday, July 22, 2007


…some of you ponder…and I encourage all except our present president to ponder…so ponder on, why don’t you?...well, maybe you have like 50 voices going on inside your head like Georgie Boy does, and can’t quite make sense of…well…anything…but some of you are pondering on as if you were a Ponderosa employee of thy month…which has to be an instant boner to the self-esteem machine…a boner to the self-esteem machine similar to that boner to the imagination station…keep on, keep on ponderin’…I’ll get to thy point…

…some of you are pondering where I get this stuff…-“stuff”, a new word to my advanced vocabulary… where do these stuffs come from…or how do I come up with thee, your pondering minds may ask…well, me trying to explain it is difficult…I mean it’s similar the difficulty Richard Simons must experience when explaining how he came up with his work out plan…for his sake…genius…genius must be the only explanation within rationale…what if Richard Simons and Brian Boytano, the Queen of the Escapades, were in the same room?...don’t ponder that too long…because we all like the proper use of the replay, but don’t need a reply of last night’s dinner…moms’ spaghetti is so-so delicious, but not made for seconds until she gets up off her lazy ass and cooks again…

…no, but seriously…I guess I come up with this stuff because…we’ve all got to come up with something…something to do with our lives…this is what I’ve chosen to do presently...who knows if it’ll result in a career…?...the…the big hermaphrodite does upstairs…that’s who…she-he will reveal the answer someday…maybe soon, but probably later…so I’ve chosen to write presently…what have other’s chosen to do?...teachers, lawyers, accountants, doctors, such as gynecologists…gynecologists for the Florida State girl’s volleyball squad…either for them or an old women’s home…

…I enjoy living in a home…it’s home…it’s where most are most comfortable…so I truly enjoy living home…but I never want to be put in a home…it leads to playing Bingo and talking about the weather...but we’ll dissect that later…that and my accidental use of “hand-quotes”…I apologize and admit I should be locked up for doing so…but for now…back to gynecology…let’s keep this classy…

…gynecology…any gynecologists in the place…to be…to be or not to be…thee, not be thy question…for it to be a question reveals a lack of assumption that an answer is assumed to be known…while it be, to be, because if it weren’t, to be, then we wouldn’t exist and therefore couldn’t ask ridiculous questions like, to be or not to be…now this reveals that you shall forget that bullshit your white history teacher slash slave master sold you that there are no stupid questions…for example, you ask before asking what you want to ask…you say, “Can I ask you something?”…you just did…stupid question…back to back on track…

…any gynecologists here?...no of course not…because they are all at home doing research on child porn like Peter Townshend…what kind of pervert do you have to be in order to become a gynecologist…yeah, I know, it’s for the medicine of it…I…was doing “real” research…and it led me to the statistic that 87% of gynecologists resort to priesthood for their 2nd and final career…I guess once you’ve seen all the angles of the vagina, some wine, cookies, Jesus and little boys are the only things left on the to-do list…who actually becomes a gynecologist in life…or a priest for that matter…well, the dissection of the next question I’ll pose may give an answer for us here…

…referring back to the beginning of this classy conversation…talking about classy…2 of my old friends and I were getting, you know, fucked up, at a bar…we hadn’t seen each other in awhile so conversation was slim at first because we only had like 2 drinks in us…other than the generic…how ya doing?...what’s new?...me…oh, well, there is so much new that I don’t know where to begin…so I’ll give ya the generic nothing much…you know…just hangin’ out…so we’re just sittin’ there staring forward at the bottles and taps and bartender’s tits…bartender was a dude, but had the Phil Mickelson syndrome going on and this bar’s a sausage fest…so his chibbychongas will satisfy the eyes for now…oh, and it was an actual sausage fest…the food everywhere…it smelled disgusting in there so I had to use the site of anything to get my nose’s mind off the sausage…even man tits could be an attempt to achieve thy trick…keep feeding me drinks Charley…so it was complete silence for like 3 minutes so I decided to say, “Yeah, yeah, I’m a classy guy, yeah”…now they didn’t confirm…but they didn’t deny either…they actually didn’t react at all like they don’t to most of what I say…but in my book, that is confirming…I classy…my book’s on sale after…you read this…well, it’s on sale now, but don’t leave to buy it now like the last time…the bookstore is where you fuckers must have gone…ok…back to back on track…

…our conversation…how do people become or decide to become gynecologists or priests?...well, remember we talked about voices inside our heads…most people have 1 to 2 to 3…our president Bush has like 50 going at once…that’s why during press conferences he smiles after reporting more deaths in Iraq and tells us every soldier counts after emphasizing APProximately 3,000 have deceased…and now he is right…9-11 and Iraq are linked…

…voices inside our head…we all have them…do you people realize?...we live in a world where people and the voices inside their heads conversate and some where along the line, or maybe between lines, they conclude, that yes, I will become…

…become a clown…what exactly did your mother do so wrong to make you hate her so much for you to become a clown?...look…in the off season, I do porn flicks…but my mom understands…every actor has to start somewhere…and my mom supports that…but no mom supports their child that decides to become a clown…unless the mother’s family was in the circus and she became a clown too…I actually thought about becoming a clown…but then remembered I do have a mother and rejected that idea…but while I was pondering clownhood, I wondered…what’s the market like these days for clowns?...I mean there’s a lot of birthdays coming up next month…and the month after that…I’m not sure after the next…but I’ll get back to you on that…at your kid’s birthday party…whoa…you mean you’re not hiring me to entertain the munchkins?...bullshit…no?…horse manure…maybe I will become a clown…or a priest…

…so there you go…if there are clowns in this world then concluding to become a gynecologist doesn’t seem that ridiculous…except at family events…how’s work going?, the answer to that is not what a gynecologist’s relative wants to hear when singing Jingle Bells with the little shits…or celebrating Kwanza with Joel Osteen, the white preacher that got lost on his way to the church, but now sells out stadiums broadcasted on Black Entertainment…

…yeah BET…I think this is a good transition point for me to announce that I’m pondering on about bringing back the underground railroad…

…hey Whitey…you ever think about creating a station called WET…you know…White Entertainment…no…why?...because that’d be racist?...well, BET certainly isn’t…I’m glad we covered that…and there’s a Cup of Sunday Mo Jo…

No comments: