FROM REVER-END MOFFER’S PERSONAL DIARY.   AUGUST 14TH, 2000:

as soon as i can get free, i go and stick my face in a slimy mud puddle out back.  there’s a rainbow slick in it and it tastes like metal, blood, dirt and something else nauseous and indefinable.

i come back into the house and have a sit in my favorite chair.  the chair that stinks so good.  i feel the puddle mud cooling on my face, burning my eyes.  it’s cold in here.

i sure do work a lot.  i work too much tell you the truth.  i can’t stand that its all set up this way.  this way that nobody can think or has time to collect themselves.

i DON’T get it.  i think about some huckster i had an unfortunate encounter with today.  he’s a civil servant- like myself- and i have to “work” with him in a small capacity.  but he envies me.  we both applied for a position.  he’s an old illiterate asshole, but, i’m a young college educated asshole that can read and do basic math.  i got the job and he kind of hates me for it.  he grunts at me when i say hello.  and he shoots me dirty sideways glances every chance he gets.  and while i’m more than ok with the fact that he doesn’t want to talk with me about THE BROWNS, i just wish he wasn’t around.

i’m going to have to do away with him, figuratively speaking of course.
he of the a stumpy torso and ridiculously bowed stork legs.  he’s a minister of the angry meatloaf clan so i guess i don’t blame him for his hostility to my kind unkind
why’s it gotta be this complicated to get a fair deal in this deal?
i’m tired. Fuckin’ TIRED.
i got shits AND shingles.
used to be just your job and the government wore you down. now, it’s everyone.  seems like everybody’s turning into some kinda ro-butt or fascist.  lotta polite dicktaters, football coaches and school marms flapping their veneers.  hell… even dear old auntie slice has crawled upon the people’s wagon.  i don’t want anything to do with any of them or their idealogues because i’m… well… let’s just say i’ve currently got more pressing things squeezing my brains out my ears.  my head feels like the ultimate sausage maker.  i don’t even know what language people are speaking, bunch of jive.  what is that petereaterese?   and, when i get on twatter or squatter or any other application, i might as well be reading ingredients labels.
maybe that’s why i’m always having social problems. ok… but i couldn’t tell you what happened. i’ve fallen asleep deep within the seat of a lot better than the likes of you!

but… no we can’t just all get along… and as we always say here in the Temple: why should we?

for world peace, perhaps?  when monkeys learn to teleport, maybe.  but we’ve all seen Star Trek:  Star Wars.  Logan’s Run. 2001.  Clockwork Orange.  Alien.  THX.  Blade Runner. and the last 30 years… so you connect the dots.  After reviewing any of these, does the future of homosap look any more promising?

jihad sheep
Monument, pen on paper, 1994 copyright GPD

 

next stop… MANDATORY DESTRUCTION OF THE MOON BY WHITE FLIGHT!  watch as the rich and powerful get away from it all by being the very first to BUY UP AND INDUSTRIALIZE THE MOON.   if we can render a relatively hospitable planet uninhabitable, just imagine what we could do with one that’s inherently inhospitable?

oh mud puddle take me away!

oh holy waters of Pollutanica!  fill me with your X-factors and suck me into your febreezed fabrique.

i’d like to send parson jerk-off on the low road to the moon with all those rich white sadists for punishment, for eternity.  if i were God, that’s exactly what i’d do.  y’know why?  Because, he’s a crummy imitation of a holy man of the reverend Jekyll and minister Hide lyfestyle.  but i choose to be bigger than my larger, over-stuffed opponent, sending all his grief back to him while absolutely and completely killing him with kind words and maybe a pat on the dupa or two: guys’ guys like that kind of thing. (insert farting noise here)

the mud is cracking. the smell of it is strong in my nose… i can smell the gasoline.  i love that.  as a kid, i used to sneak off to the garage to get away from it all and sniff at the can or take the cap off mom’s car and do it straight from the tank.

i feel very calm now. the mud has calmed me and, before me, there lurks a shadow of a shadow.  this shadow is my friend, one that i’ve been with since 3rd grayde.  it falls across my face gently, like a lover… and in an instant we are one…

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