Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses be dipped in God's dry martini and may you be wigged with divine intoxication; especially me (grin).
Incoming!!! Outgoing? Row, row, row your boating! Dancing dandelion dreamsicles, are melting in the atmosphere and making yellow snow that you can eat. The moist suspended particles are being sucked into a cloud of unknowing and bringing you golden showers and the sun is adding LSD to your acid rain. You may not be doing well with your stocks and bonds, if you consider what stocks are when you've committed some moral offense and they stick your head in one and bonds can bind, which is okay for the people into that kind of sex. What everyone really wants is a high fuckability index. Isn't that what you most want for Christmas? Ask Santa Claws. Perhaps after he climbs down the chimney he'll climb into bed with you and do an Al Pacino from The Devil's Advocate, with his claws on your back and then you'll sound like he was dragging them down a blackboard. It's the right time to drop the chalk. Pretend it's the soap. You'll be glad you did. Just call me Ben Dover. And be thankful! The best thing about Gratitude is that it leads to more reasons to be grateful. Keep at it and you'll soon be ululating like someone in a chador and... that is what you really came here for.
Ron Paul is surging as The Occupy movers are merging and aren't you glad it's not Rue Paul? Still we did get J. Edna Hoover (couldn't resist) and we're not being Un-P.C. It was just a word play that turned out that way. No! Turn this way and swing your partner and you too could hit an 'angel flying too close to the ground'. Round and round and round she goes and then she flies right up your nose (where's my K? Come on people), which is a little different and probably more desirable than a Whiffenpoof. I believe a Whiffenpoof is a bird that flies in increasingly tighter circles, until it disappears up it's own asshole. I couldn't find that on Google. This is probably because there are so many of them in important political positions at the moment; John McCain certainly comes to mind, who are going to be in other positions soon, when John Milton gets his hands on them; no, not that John Milton.
I was talking to Rudy Guiliani the other day and I asked him if he knew how to keep an asshole in suspense. He said, “No, How do you do it”? I said, “I'll tell you later”. Madeline Albright, or not too bright, or dimly lit, as the case may be, has been hanging out with Vladimir Putin, now and again and the other day, she told him she wanted a breast enhancement surgery and she was wishing she could get it done by one of those Philippine psychic surgeons who pull those chicken liver tumors out of people but, like in reverse ...and she wanted Putin to pay for it and she kept harassing him about it and saying that he owed her and I don't know why that is but that's what she was saying and finally Putin told her that he knew a way that she could get bigger, firmer breasts and it wouldn't cost a dime and half a million Iraqi children wouldn't have to die either and she asked him how and he told her just to rub some toilet paper between her breasts and it would automatically happen and then she went ballistic and asked him if he really thought she was stupid enough to believe that. She was really angry and half a dozen Iraqi children died, without her even having to help in the process. Putin reassured her that it would work and he did not think she was stupid, only cold blooded and genetically linked to the Komodo Dragon, which is why he uses the endearment; “My comode dragon”, when he is in the mood. She was still resistant to the idea and smelled a rat, even though Paul Wolfowitz was in another country at the time, blowing an exiled oligarch and she continued to rant and two more Iraqi children died but at least she seemed to be going into remission and that is when she asked him by what means did this process work, where your breasts got bigger and firmer from rubbing toilet paper between them and that is when Putin said, “I'm telling you it works, look what it did for your ass”. Can I get a witness! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! and so on and so forth.
A dozen deranged dirigibles departed from Denver after Tom Brady wiped the floor with Tim Tebow and everything in the NFL now has a 'mop and glow' effect that kind of looks like Justin Bieber, who is to music what Mariah Carey is to compassionate trickle down, in the way that George W. Bush is a regular guy you would want to have a beer with, as long as his beer was half sulfuric acid and you got to serve it to him, with a napkin over your arm like John Wayne Gacy was the sommelier and “Yes, I would like two of your small boys and a glass of sherry with a Sandusky back”. Merry Christmas!!! and hold the mayo; no, not Gerard Mayo and not The Mayo Clinic either. Cancer research and treatment is to permanent cures what charity balls are to public assistance. They discovered long ago that producing more cancers, was a private prison industry like perk, to the medical community and I didn't have to see Breaking Bad to figure that out; not that there is any connection anyway.
Speaking of dead and missing district attorneys, with ruined laptops, does my ass look fat in these jeans? Having a young boys ass when you are old, is Nature's way of telling you you are doing the right thing, at least as far as your ass is concerned and not one fecal matter joke so far so that should put an end to those rumors about my lineage.
TSA all the way! TSA all the way! Speaking of Rahm Emmanuel, since it's Christmas; he's the kind of guy that would have dinner with Janet Napolitano and then sneak into her bedroom and go into the laundry hamper for some of her underwear and it's not like the next stop is Sothebys'.
“Bobby: I'd like an omelet, plain, and a chicken salad sandwich on wheat toast, no mayonnaise, no butter, no lettuce. And a cup of coffee.
"Waitress: A #2, chicken salad sand. Hold the butter, the lettuce, the mayonnaise, and a cup of coffee. Anything else?
Bobby: Yeah, now all you have to do is hold the chicken, bring me the toast, give me a check for the chicken salad sandwich, and you haven't broken any rules.
Waitress: You want me to hold the chicken, huh?
Bobby: I want you to hold it between your knees.”
And so on and so forth. Here's Johnny! Of course a lot of people don't remember or didn't hear about Jack being kinda, sorta in the mix when Polanski was chicken ranching and I know most people didn't read the little girls statement about how it went down and the back door sodomy portion and that's got nothing to do with the fact that they call a Vietnamese with more than one dog a rancher.
Yes, by now, people might well be wondering about me but I am wondering about you and how you are handling the holidays and I want to lighten the mood, in a pressurized vertiglio fashion, with a jump back Jack, see ya later' Michael Jackson, Battlestar Galactica magic ring on my finger, which does not mean we are engaged, unless you believe like I do, that this is a group effort; plenty of time for me to get all misty eyed, in the next two or three couple of days and... No, I do not want you to play Misty for me. Of course I wonder how many people get all my allusions and I am not under the illusion that most people do. Why don't you try to write about current events most days, without it being a looping redial. Remember, Dial spelled backwards says 'laid'. I can do commercials, as long as I don't get paid and ♫you should throw a brick today through McDonalds♫ Do it today! Speaking of used prophylactics, laundered and hanging on the wash-line, do you prefer safe and protected sex or retroactive abortion in the case of Sean Hannity? You know it's the end times when people actually make it a point to listen to people like this. These are the people that don't know the difference between an IUD and an IED. One's preventive and the other is proactive and I'm still pissed off about Patrick Tillman. Except for Giordano Bruno, I never lost a friend that meant that much to me that I didn't even get to see for a few lifetimes.
“Bobby: I move around a lot, not because I'm looking for anything really, but 'cause I'm getting away from things that get bad if I stay.”
Christmas is as Christmas does and if you need a holiday to behave the way you should all year long then you are definitely the sort of person that goes to church on Sunday; “One day of prayin' and six nights of fun. The odds against goin' to heaven, six-to-one”. Speaking of aptly named tunes, “still shakin it here Boss”.
Ah, we've come to the end of another broadcast, which is to mixed metaphors what mixed venues are to 'how the Hell did I get here in the first place'? I do not intend to chicken and egg this thing to death and no Iraqi children died while I was writing this, but a school bus load went down when Howdy Doody said that he was the 4th best president. Yes, there is a reason that you and I don't get elected president, or want the job and it definitely has to do with times of darkness and the kind of 50 foot tall 'Curse of the Demon' types that you meet in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. The kind of people who think they can make a difference are the kind of people that prove it by making things worse. I have a far greater contempt for the people that still support this clown than I do for the man himself, who's just a freeze dried asshole that looks like a chicken butt ring, that these same people keep trying to convince me tastes like calamari. The place where you get the best calamari, is the place where they beat it on rocks, fresh out of the ocean and it goes to show that is the first place they pick to destroy the economy of. The Portuguese, The Italians and the Greeks are children. When you know that you can appreciate them the way I appreciate you (grin). Just kidding!
Baby, you know I love you. She didn't mean anything to me and now I appreciate you all the more because of it. It's a good thing that it happened. I only wish you had been there in a Doublemint Spearmint Gum sort of a way. If it weren't for threesomes, we wouldn't have the triangle but you go tell that to Pythagoras. He's still pissed that I confused him with Paracelsus. It's one of those Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger things, except it's not. Yeah, I do have a little background in the things you people excel at but I was being kind and self diminishing, because if I'm not, someone else is going to do the job for me. Merry Christmas!!! Merry, Merry Christmas!!! Catch the spirit but don't expect this posting to be an example of what it feels like. I love you and I thank you. I'm less than nothing without you.
'Who do You Love?' is track no. 5 of 10 on Visible's eponymous
'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)
Sunday's radio show is available for download. James will have his Christmas show coming up and I will be visiting with the redoubtable Robert Phoenix for two hours Friday morning at 10:00 AM Pacific Time. If you got questions then let him hear about it beforehand.