...it's not dark yet, but it's gettin' there...
This is classic Kevin Kim, an example of why his blog is on my daily list.
You know how the whole world curdles after a major breakup? That's the culinary abyss I'm in right now. The angels aren't shitting any Strawberry Cheesecake on me; they're just shitting shit. It's a beautiful day outside, but my life has turned into the final act of a Samuel Beckett play. I'm living inside a fucking garbage can. I'm waiting for Godot. All around me, there's nothing but gloom. Demons cackle in dark corners. Squirrels with glowing red eyes wave their freakishly huge, forked dicks at me. Harmonious birdsong morphs into the cacophonous squalling of Satan's fanged, larval children. The Han River runs thick with pus and excrement-- no, wait, that's not a hellish vision; that's actually happening.He's so twisted. He needs to get off of Glogspot, too.
A poem for Annika:
May I live inside your thong?
Would that really be so wrong?
Laughing, playing, singing songs,
Twanging butt floss all night long?
As for moving off the Wet Spot, I did get a MuNu invite, but decided to turn it down, at least for now. I realize that my not being a Republican* might have something to do with the bad life-decisions I make, but the MuNuvian Way didn't feel quite right to me-- at least, not yet.
Thanks YET AGAIN for the shout-out. My indebtedness grows. I suppose you'll be wanting to eat my firstborn child, right? That's why you folks are pro-life, isn't it!?
THE FETUSES ARE TASTIER WHEN FRESH!!
As we all know, Republicans are gun-toting, Bible-quoting, fetus-eating morons. They also beat dwarves mercilessly, which is why I momentarily considered voting for Bush. He's got the technique down pat.
Democrats, it turns out, also enjoy the occasional third-trimester fetus, straight from the uterus, but the difference is they never admit it, those lying, pseudo-intellectual, Tim Robbins-fellating assmonkeys. May their genitals all shrivel up and become as desiccated as Hillary's parched and cracking womb!
Annika, sincerely-- thanks for letting me out of my cage to roam around a bit, but the wide spaces frighten me. I need to go back into confinement now, so I can finish counting my pubic hairs. I'm anxious to know whether I have an odd or even number of them. I feel this is important: something tells me the results might be relevant to the upcoming presidential election. Would you deprive a man of the opportunity to demonstrate the oracular power of his pubic hair?
Kevin
*I consider myself largely apolitical.
Just shave and you won't need to count em, dude.
Thanks for the poem, today is poetry day, after all.
Posted by: annika! on May. 19, 2004