We should not think of ourselves as whole. Nor as wholesome. Nor as Cherry Cola. Nor as Picasso on Rye Bread with Tuna spread all over the side of your mouth while phillipinoes mollest you with carrots. Nor as a solid mustache of cream corn that just happened to gain control of your granite fixture that you'd been saving since the passing of your mothers aunts cousin jenny and it feels as though your going to have to hand over the breath mints of the only one you've ever wanted to passionately rub toes with and everyone thinks that the pennicostile jews are out to get your great great great grandmothers only cousins neice while you sleep soundly in your german austrailian outback bed under the twighlighted moonlight of stars that shine down on your parish and into your window of lust and fog? Everyone has these nightmares you know.....you get the picture...

The Antidote To Idle Minds

Idle are we?
I see, I see...
The Antidote?
Hydrogen Peroxide mixed with a little bit of Kerosine, and some carbon monoxide in a bottle, along with an air horn. Yes. yes...yes, that will do the trick. that will do the trick indeed....
While indeed, we are amused in our own subtle ways, the asprin does take effect after a certain unknown period of time, say forty-five minutes, give or take twenty depending on the weight of the person, and theyre blood flow, EVERYONE, has to get the pin sometime. SOMETIME. The pin in the belly button. You know the one. The babies cry. The tuna weeps. The arachnids run and scream for mercy. There are no more of them. There are no more to take theyre place. There are no more that can cry out the the spaniards, "Hark! For I hear the shephards calling! There are many! The manes are a bit clouted, but they maintain! Everyone eat the corn! There's only two cobs, but hey, every man for himself!" And they grazed. Alone in the isles of shephardism that they wept. And there were many tissues, passed back and fourth over the hill, but before the antlers. And they said unto thee, "Thou shalt not cry upon the antlers!
For the antlers are a foul thing unto the lord! And they sayeth unto him, "Thy Idioucy is not amused." And then there was a great baking. The pies and the crispies, and the bacon cheese swiss, and the barbeque, and the ham swiss cheddar, and the pennicostiles, and the jews, and the ye-haw barbie dolls of the twenty first and a half century, they all came.
It was a gathering of some proportion. Everyone who was anyone was there. The palestinians. The germans. The indians. The aphrodisiacs. The St. Helens. The St. Johns Wort. The age of colombian antisentimism. The applegate ferarraris. And the roman cathedoral clones marked under the religion of the anti-baptist capitolists of the banana republic of guam minor. And so everyone was gathered. The meeting commensed.
"What do you have to say about global economitism senator?" "I have to say it sucks a big long donkey doodle hankey mr ambassador. What makes you think you such a big man?"
And it went on.... For hours and ages, it went like a japanese cassarole. Everyone wept. There was a great suffering. And in the end, everyone was savored by a nice cream sauce smothered with guacomole and ham chowder seasoning. It was a good seasoning. Everone enjoyed. Everyone except Gregory Peck. Gregory Peck had a nasty temper. He got mad at the slightest of things. Well, there was a hair in his macorronii. He wouldn't have it.. He threw his plate across the room and screamed until he salivated. Everyone hunched over in fear. There was a great reconcilling. Everyone gathered under god. And then Gregory Peck faced the anti-jewish-hethen-baptistmal-antagonistic-athiestic-marmelade-covered-bun of what society really was. Everyone was happy. Gregory Peck loathed. He loathed in his own sugar coated breath. He ate a tic-tac. Everything was better. The end.

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