SKEZZ
8 hippos …
“If you measured my penis in AR-15s? – it would be 8 hippos in size.” – Dr. Freckles
FACTS MOST DON’T KNOW ABOUT AR-15s:
- they can be used to launch satellites, they are that powerful
- only ancient Egyptian kings had access to them, before 3D printers
- one AR-15 can kill up to 300 billion people
When I die …
When I die?
Chuck me out of a moving car, as you drive recklessly through the hell zone of San Francisco.
Make sure I’m RIPE and READY and so dissolved that my body splatters and explodes, as you toss it out on the street going 55 MPH.
Let the rat and the pigeon feed upon me.
When I die …
Take me up in a CESSNA to about 7,000 feet and drop me on WA DC. Have a streamer attached to my body that reads: TAXES PAID IN FULL! Try to hit the WA monument, so that my body explodes on the tip, just the tip …
When I die …
I want all my parts harvested, and dried out, turned into a powder, and sold in China Town.
(I don’t care how racist that sounds)
(I’m dead)
When I am no longer here …
I’ll drink beer with Gabriel and smoke weed with Jeremiah.
I’ll spend all day reading the ancient texts, and then “show up” and SCARE YOU, like a ghost … but I’ll have the most joy when you’re naked in the bathroom, lathering your boobies.
We had Fantasy Island …
What about FENTANYL ISLAND?
Lamest frontier …
“If ‘space’ is the final frontier? – then it’s also the lamest one.” – Dr. Freckles
Cheese cave …
“If there’s no more gold at Fort Knox, and the strategic oil reserves are nearly empty, why would we expect there to be cheese in the cheese cave?” – Dr. Freckles
Cheese is a good food for bunkers …
So I just have a hard time believing they’ve been “saving our cheese” for us … it’s not OUR cheese …
In fact: that nasty “Who moved my Cheese?” bullshit corporate cargo cult from 20 years ago was probably the result of this CHEESE bullshit.
It seems like the government would be storing women’s vaginal yeast by about this time …
“If there’s a government CHEESE CAVE, then shouldn’t there be a government HOOKER CASTLE?” – Dr. Freckles
Cans … (like in Scientology)
“When I establish MY CULT, we’ll have these things called ‘cans’ … but they won’t be electro-doodly bullshit, they’ll be boobs … you hold on to your interrogators boobs.” – Dr. Freckles
“JUGS are the key to truth.” – Dr. Freckles
The Time of Atomic Warlords …
I am going to be an ATOMIC WARLORD during the time after.
I’m going to slink out in the night for a tough fight, with razors in both hands – I’ll make my stand against the raiders from region-NOVEMBER. Our careless use of gasoline will set the world ablaze, as we raise hell chasing down slunk-flesh and renting out whores … in the time of Atomic Warlords.
If my bones creak from the freak wrestling on Saturday nights, I’ll just drink ol’ Doc Grunkis’ tasty “horse cider” and I’ll be fine by morning, leaking blood and pus from all the holes.
I was never supposed to leave the nursery, bare chested and filled with spunk! But my old granddaddy said “boy, get going, no soup here” – there wasn’t, all the loygan-soup had been consumed, and all that was left was YMCA shower fermented foot debris and residue … and this wasn’t great either. I fled the dworg-folk and made my way to Splunkton, where the women are hearty and the men sing songs.
I was beaten by the HOG FARMERS of Tacoma, when the razzle-dazzles rose up in fury and they shook their fists at KING EARL. There were fires set in nearby towns, and the hetzel-knights rode forth to chop off the heads of pimps and carousing nerdowells … But there were tender moments with Mistress Jenny and her mud style fisting and the “tango and cash” routine she did with her boovula.
She said: “You are my stone prince.”
I said: “You are my tornado flower.”
As our bodies became moist and greasy, we enravaged each other’s stink flesh, while she grabbed my “Howdy Doody”, and I massaged her “Lucy, I’m Home!” … she moaned, as the shaft dove deeper into the cave of wonder. And there was a moment of trembling, as love flashes expanded across her shivering bosom, but the smoky butt writhing soothed our haughty stink.
But I grew tired of her, so I left her in the glass pits of Grobb’s Town.
In those days I rode a tumor ridden brown bear named Rudy. Rudy and I made our way around the peninsula and all the way to Canada. We had chieftains bowing to us, as I lanced their finest and spat blood upon their sacred urns. Nothing was left but for me to RATTLE THE CAGES of the ancient ones, and see if old MINGUS JONES wants to battle with the apes of Seattle for the last cans of chili.
My time would come …
A time of taking out the old garbage, and dumping it some place.
A time of dancing and song, when the lullaby birds sing of newborn floss and the old rotting corpses smell less bad.
You can make your life there, when the sun cracks through …
A special place for me and for you …
You would see that white goo, and say “honey, fertilize my skigg-bag”, and I’d say “baby, I will jelly all over your dover-sack” … and that’s love.
And this was a story of love.
Did you?
Did you take the garbage out?
I told you to, but did you?
Did you call your mom?
Your mom has been calling all day and she wants to know if you’re okay …
So did you call her? Shit head?
When you left your woman in bed this morning, as she languidly lay there, inconspicuously rubbing her “target zone”, did you consider that Robby the Repairman is coming later – to fix the pipes?
Robby knows where the clitoris is … do you?
Did you think that your life would be over, so soon?
Did you think your love would be darkness and ruin?
Think about her and Robby.
Did you make money on BITCOIN?
MILLIONS!
Are you living in a nice home not far from Fuegas?
FUEGAS CITY?
But your mind is an empty plastic trap, and your mouth festers with halitosis …
You have every STAR WARS action figure, but no love, nothing real …
Your hooker women are not real …
Did you wear a condom?
Did you find a way home?
A way back to that land of JOY and SORROW?
Is there some green pasture you might walk upon, as your bare feet capture soil and grass?
There’s a log cabin, with an old lady making supper … m’yeah …
There’s a woman in a wool dress, picking up mushrooms and chestnuts and elderberry …
There’s a dog, chasing squirrels … isn’t that nice?
And then you smell the lie – and the sky turns RED and the land is dead …
Did you pray?
Did you ever think about going to SPACE?
Riding in space ships, and chasing aliens, and having sex with green women that have large jugs?
Did you?
You could sign up with SPACEX, and travel to Mars and drive fast cars – hang out with Elon at that new Oxygen Bar on Olympus Mons or you could retrace the steps of Admiral Tagus, the first gondo-lord of Mars.
Did you think you would ever do any of that?
(you sad fuck)
Renaming birds …
“Renaming the birds is the Daylight Savings Time of Barrow, Alaska. Cuz now it’s Utqiagvik.” – Dr. Freckles
“We need that new cannon …”
“We gotta build dem dare PLOTON CANNON before THEY DO!”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“How the fuck should I know …”
“We gotta harvest suptick-fuel from the Himalayas … and you know China doesn’t care about babies …”
“We gotta build a rocket catapult?”
“Why?”
“So we can reach the sky, then …”
“Then what Ben?”
“We’ll touch the face of God baby …”
“We have to deploy the X-RAY BEAM.”
“Why my friend ZED?”
“Because if we don’t, the bad guys will zap us dead.”
“Then what happens pal?”
“We retire to a cottage and smoke crack in SO-CAL.”
“That’ll be nice …”
Useful tech …
“Functional and useful technology sells itself.” – Dr. Freckles
First you are made LAME …
“Those whom the gods are about to destroy, they first make lame.” – Dr. Freckles
Voicing messages of extreme retribution during war time …
On the death star …
“On the death star? – we money-rape each other.” – Dr. Freckles
Living a long life …
“Living a long life is not about ‘positive attitude’, it’s about destiny and punishment.” – Dr. Freckles
Wow: she’s still alive …
Dirty money …
“Believing you earn clean income in the USA is like believing those Bureau of Land Management signs that say: ‘these are YOUR public lands’ … they’re not, and your income is as dirty as anyone else.” – Dr. Freckles
Time dude …
“I might be a time traveler, and doomed to drift through the oceans of causality.” – Dr. Freckles
Lists …
I’m going to tell you a story about lists. We think lists are good, and this is true like a fork or a shotgun. Good, useful, dangerous, painful.
I’m going to tell you about lists of friends, and some of them are friends, and some of them are not.
I’m going to say, we keep LISTS of grievances.
I have a running list in my head, and I call it NED, and it’s a demon that lives in the woods.
We keep track of petty shit, mostly because we’re afraid.
We keep track of things we don’t like about someone else, mostly because we don’t want to talk, even if it means breaking up.
Our tiny lists,
like pythons,
strangle us.
Lists of “good” and “bad” people, based upon some arcane criteria of hate or disgust.
Lists of “non-human” and therefore disposable people, a list of 3 doctors in Canada gets you the cruise to Valhalla.
I suffer from depression, periodically, and it helps me to keep a list of things that make me happy – if the list gets to one or two, then it’s time to “phone a friend”, so to speak.
There’s the Burger King stage, where if you’re really depressed, but someone asks you “want some Burger King”, you say yes: because you’re still out of the worst parts of depression.
So I keep a list that keeps me alive, and happy, and grateful – as much as an old curmudgeon can be, in 2023 Boblimptock.
So some lists good, some lists bad – be wise, like Solomon.
Of Hobbits in Outer Space …
“I watch official NASA films or photos or space movies from Hollywood or space documentaries in the same equal spirit of some Hobbit movie.” – Dr. Freckles