Happy Endings
And the meek will inherit the earth, after the non-meek have fucked it up beyond recognition. How I love a happy ending.
And they all lived happily ever after. All of them. The ICE patrols, the orange troll, his syncophants, his droogies, his minions. Little old ladies, and little old men, who would huddle round the town’s only oil barrel, warming their hands, waiting for the breadlines to open in the morning—if they even open today. The troops, who have been supported by regular folk and football fans for hundreds of years, now forced to guard the ICE guys, while they yank our tired children out of their beds in the night, zip tied because you know how bad kids can get, especially when they are woken from their sweet dreams of grown men and women cavorting in frog costumes, creating the only effective opposition to masked agents, the brave men (and maybe a woman or two) who knows, because after all, they are masked, their real identities hidden, because that is what really brave men do—they hide their face from the children they zip tie.
Because hey, kids bite! So like the brave men of Israel, we could be bombing these kids to hell, yes it could get worse….when phase two begins.
Good night moon, and good night fake moon, and good night flammable world of plastic, so much plastic. Next world will be better.
We are ill-advised by the preachers and teachers and folks who tell tall tales of lumberjacks as big as buildings, swinging axes, cutting down the old growth to make toilet paper, wonderful soft toilet paper, such softness— just like a babies bum, like so many baby’s bums…..in the Epstein files.
Also much more than bums, tits up, they said. Hallelujah I’m a bum! Give us a handjob and revive us again. So many mandatory hand jobs, and hands that shake at the thought….sheer thought keeping us up at night- who can sleep with all this fun going on? Like Sly Stone said,”There’s a riot goin’ on!”
I just heard from an unreliable narrator that there will be no riots allowed today. Sorry for the inconvenience. Pardon my ignorance. We will do better next world. There is always tomorrow, each day building on the next, as phase two and phase three roll out. So many phases, our faces pressed against our pillows, the sheets pulled up over our eyes, we start to resemble the masked men who stalk our streets even as we sleep. They stalk our sheets. Like cheap Halloween costumes.
Boo! I’m a ghost! Such are the dreams of the everyday housewife, who gave up the good life for me.
But after all, it was a tough day, we could hardly get our hungry mouths around it, without splitting our chapped lips. So tough we could no longer chew, but have hope, we can still suck, so there is hope.
Hope has been downgraded to a slight fever, we are advised to nestle with a hot water bottle, wrestle with a bottle of bourbon, can we get some hot water bottles down here for the children to nestle with?
We are wrestling with demons, our asses deep in alligators, but chin up, old chum. It’s a cabaret, old chum. Remember sitting by the radio, listening to Old Chum, as he told us tales of his youth, or yout’ as he would say. In my yout’ we had burgers for 19 cents. Cents? What are cents? We have no cents, sense or scents. The smells are indescribable.
In Canada, we stopped making pennies, because the copper was needed to make pipes and wires , so that all the wired crackheads would have something to steal. They love the copper, not the coppers, but the copper, that’s what the wired crackheads would collect and sell in the mornings.
Remember mornings? Complete strangers would say, Good Morning! Good morning mister copper! Good morning mister iceman, the muffin man, the stove top stuffing man, the travelling salesmen.
My own daddy was a travelling salesman. He sold glue. He sold the glue that held us all together. In his sticky arms. He sold us armchairs that glued us to the screens. Glued to the screens, we would fall asleep in our armchairs and overstuffed couches. Glued to our sofas, the papas and the mamas snored, woke up with a hard jab to their ribs- You are missing the whole show!
Welcome to the miasma of Miami Beach Florida. It’s the Jackie Gleason Show! With the June Taylor Dancers! And Art Carney. Not Mark Carney, or Chili Pat Carney, but Art.
Remember Art? Hey Ralph! Ralph and Alice. Ed Norton and Trixie. Those lovable Honeymooners, what a honeymoon they had. To the moon Alice! To the honey moon and back. Back in the day. When we were long in the tooth. When we had teeth. There was real teeth to it then. Real teeth.
Not veneers. Not airbrushes. Not combs that we would lick, and smooth out our hair, making sure no one hair stood out more than the next. Until the punks fucked up everything, with their hair sticking up. The world lost its innocence.
“In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories”.
Doesn’t it seem like a few people are missing in this description? The one eyed hanging judge? Aaron Judge? Judge Judy?
What about the criminals? How can we have a criminal justice system without criminals? Isn’t that a crime? Where are the revolving doors of justice? The swinging doors? The dutch doors with only the top part of the door open, so the dogs and the babies don’t get out. Baby gates. Bill gates and baby gates. Release the Epstein files. Release the Einstein files. Release ALL the files.
Since we have revived everything from our youth, why not baby gates? Play pens. Soothers. Happy endings.
And they all lived happily ever after.
Long after their shelf life.
Extended by the manufacturer.
The best before date is just a guide for when you are in the store and the product is unopened, and still refreshing, and refrigerated.
Take it home, open it, stick your fingers in it, lick your fingers, stick them back in, then incubate in the fridge for three weeks. Then call manufacturers to complain that the product has gone bad, has gone off, has grown a world of mold.
Write to complain. Threaten to go on social media and troll them in the comments.
They will send you free stuff, because God loves an idiot.
