Thursday, June 7, 2012


Editors' Note:

We are working under difficult conditions here. The notes that fool
sends us are scrunched all  up - as if some madman tried to hide
these writings. As if the moron believed he was being followed -
drunk as all too usual... and the man is supposed to be a writer!.
Well, you won't be a writer for long if you are consumed by drink
and the taking of chemicals.

       But, in our Roving Reporter's defense... And he was a defence
attorney...     ....     ... Given his nature, he could scarsely  have been anything
else.  Hell, how do you spell defence? How do you spell scarcely?
I'm getting pissed off, and I'm not even the writer!
My goodness... in all honesty ( which ha! ha! is our policy) someone
should edit this. Oh, gee, that someone is me.

                           Please tell me I have not gone mad..
        We always knew Blind Jimmy had crossed the line.
had climbed the wrong apple tree, had prayed at the wrong picture of the
President (Nixon)...  ...  ... Was three bricks short of a load,
was a low watt bulb on a bright stage of spotlights,
was the poor white cousin nobody ever mentioned,
the drooling pervert we thought was locked away forever,
but who just showed up last week on our block...
We called the cops, but that's usually a bad idea in this


May I speak?

It's me again. Your intrepid, truthful crusading reporter. And we are returning to the
the note from Blind Jimmy. We'll call it "Part Two"


Things seem to be exploding in the microwave.
And I fell asleep making my specialty (boiled eggs).
So now I have to eat remnants, this, my other specialty:
"Exploded Eggs."
The beauty of this dish (I can hear the French waiter saying it):
"You must scrape it off the ceiling...
before you have your first taste... delectable!)

Oh God, is there no editor? Am I all alone here?
I can't spell in the evenings.The evening just began
 after my work day... 6:15 AM.

      Have you evr had mornings like this?
Maybe not... ( I just heard some noise. My next
door neighbour is getting his Court-ordered
injection.) This is how I met my wife.

Thank God they're
       I support forcible needles such as this...
But only for dyed-in-the-wool, no hope
repetitive rapists.... not just one poor
guy aroused beyond the limits
of his impoverished brain.... by a really
sexy car commercial.
         You are free to not agree.

          Have you ever had mornings like this?
Maybe not.
           Well, if you're living south of 60,
you probably do not hear the ravens
gurgling pre-dawn through your open
             I'm living south of sixty, so this
shouldn't be happening to me.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, boy. Didn't you ever listen? Momma told you never to tell the truth!
    from older brother Ike.