Sunday, April 27, 2008

"Hey, lighten up, OneEar!"

Fear Not, Goat-Petters: There is a Problem with Hell

Goat-petters, you may be persuaded to "die in Hell" because of OneEar's persuasive persuasion, but there are a few things that should be considered. Well, perhaps only one.

Be that as it may, as a frequent recipient of said "petting" by "goat" "petters", I would like to dispel any fears any potential "petters" may have, and I would also stand in the way of any sort of campaign of fear, such as that of OneEar's latest intimating that goat petters may "die in Hell".

You see, even if goat petters wanted to "die in Hell", there is a problem. Evidently, logic is unable to locate Hell. How is one supposed to go there to die, if it can't be found? There are goats that need petting, and this can't likely be accomplished if one were to spend all of his time looking around the stacks of logic and reasoning to no avail.

And this raises a larger issue: If no one can find Hell in the wider arena of sensible thinking, what about religion? You just can't have religion with no Hell. Catholics caught on to that right from the beginning. Why do you think they paid Dante so much for his architectural designs? Religion with no Hell is worse than a chick-flick with no obligatory sex-scene: no one will be able to con their boyfriends/husbands into watching. It's simply a non-option to the intellectually honest.

The implications of this shine an unwanted spotlight on institutions such as our own "ChurcK", and one might think that OneEar may have chosen to think before posting, rather than during.

All of a sudden, there shined a shiny demon... in the middle... of the road.
And he said:

"Play the best song in the world, or I'll eat your soul."




Sunday, April 20, 2008

Idiot Chef: The Days of Peanut Butter Chicken Have Gone



Ingredients:

a. 1 3-pound chicken
b. 1 Surly attitude, matured on the Eastern Shore
c. 1 Jar "Skippy" brand peanut butter, smooth&creamy
d. 1 pack of matches
e. 1 cold winter night
f. 1 fifth of cheap-ass whiskey
g. dime-bag of "oregano"
h. delusions of culinary grandeur
i. City of Williamsburg Fire Department representatives, on the clock
j. two cases of beasty beer

Begin with 'b'. Add 'j' over early part of evening, combined with 'g'. Use this combination to develop fierce case of munchies. Throw rocket-fuel into the mix by complaining about everyone being a bunch of p*ssies because they won't drink 'f' with you. Conduct activities on 'e'. Settle down into a state of marginal motor control in basement apartment with winter coat on. Slur words as you again remind others that they are p*ssies, and that you are hungry. Offer to help others who state that they, too, are close to starving, by returning to 'h'.

Find 'a' in the refrigerator. Have no idea how long it has been there or where the pisser is. Place in frying pan. Cover with 'c', with very little attention to detail. Attempt to heat, to no avail. Become annoyed with slowness of electric heating conduits. Take remaining 3 Oz of 'f', and pour on 'a'. Go through many of the contents of 'd' before sending 4ft flames toward the ceiling. Start some fast-talking, despite loss of refined motor control, when 'i' show up. Assure anyone who will listen that everything is 'ok'.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Old Man often sings of Old Men


Old man lying
by the side of the road
With the lorries rolling by,
Blue moon sinking
from the weight of the load
And the building scrape the sky,
Cold wind ripping
down the allay at dawn
And the morning paper flies,
Dead man lying
by the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Blind man running
through the light
of the night
With an answer in his hand,
Come on down
to the river of sight
And you can really understand,
Red lights flashing
through the window
in the rain,
Can you hear the sirens moan?
White cane lying
in a gutter in the lane,
If you're walking home alone.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Just find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Just find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Heather Mills headed for Verona


Recently, OneEar has confessed to never playing any of those songs which Ms. Mills, by all rights, really deserves credit and financial compensation for. (REALLY, Sir Paul, where do you get off? Did you think your wife's only talent was demonstrating her birth canal for money?) At the risk of being out of line, BurgerMeister Meisterburger's regime has officially extended an all-expenses-paid invitation to Ms. Mills for the upcoming Rusty Sessions recording gala/fiasco. "We will finally get someone to play that lesbian piss-boy we have contemplated for years, thanks to Ms. Mills," was the official statement. Let's just hope OneEar doesn't aggravate this charming woman by playing any of her songs.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Moses Dead. Twice as Corny.

Years ago, I remember chatting with Moses before he could afford to purchase brand-name underwear. I tried to do him a favor and use my shaman's Magic Wand to turn his hedgehog-skin shirt into a Faconable french-cuffed pin-striped shirt, but something went wrong with the incantation, as you can see. Or am I smoking a cigarette, held at great distance from my face to avoid the obvious fire hazard? The Jerk-Off (TM) Drive could answer the question, since all of my drinking makes me less reliable as time passes.

Rest In Peace, Captain George Taylor. Say 'hi' to Cornelius.

"You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!"

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

You guys all went off to a different blog without telling me, didn't you?




Well. Just admit it. I can be in a blog all by myself. I don't care if no one approved of the deutschmark takeover. I'll just keep reading my own witty and High-sterically annoying entries. So there. I don't even like any of you, anyways. Ha. I had sadly predicted this moment from the start. **sigh**