by Tomorrow's Man
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. February 29? Contact NASA.
3. Check kitchen for monkeys in stove, fridge.
4. Submit article to Wired, Microparticle Elephant Contagion: The Demise of Humanity by Callow Abuse of Nanotechnological Power, or New Dadaism?
5. Implement devious plot within R&D department to remove stigmata of "Office Dingleberry" nickname.
6. Hammer; Sickle; Scrotum?
7. Cease rhyming "garment" with "varmint" in everyday conversation.
8. Irrigate.
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
3. Audit 'To Do' list; find #2.
4. Contact NFL: Hexagon footballs?
5. Test recipe for Mountain Dew Alfredo with Soy.
6. Follow heart -- move closer to front of body.
7. Purchase www.howtosellcocklesalivealiveo.com
8. Audit complete:
2. See optometrist re: googly eyes.
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. Finish translation of The Iliad into Esperanto, French, & Pig Latin.
3. Double Dog Dare that guy Eugene re: eating spiders.
4. Begin filming golfing-porno documentary, "Tiger's Wood."
5. Fix crack in shark aquarium, pronto.
6. Out of complete hands; perhaps lend a knuckle?
7. Bone up on article I wrote with Dr. Joyce Brothers, The Stratification of the Genders During the Age of Sexual Homogenization, for presentation at 9th annual Adult Film Awards.
8. Try to shake nun's habit.
9. It's Friday -- BAKE!
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. Squirrels/Computer -- remove before startup.
3. Have short pants lengthened by clowns -- Summer's coming!
4. Call God re: blue, green issue; what if what he thinks is blue is green to me, etc.
5. Cauliflower on Prozac.
6. Lobby for Beerday to be added to calendar between Sunday and Monday.
7. Russians. Taller?
8. FYI Gabe Kaplan on "Welcome Back, Cooter" screenplay.
9. Don't forget pants again.
10. Punt.
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. Find better spot in kitchen for anvils.
3. Send homemade salve to Gene Simmons re: three-inch seeping tongue canker.
4. Remove grout from bathroom tiles; tub; grandmother.
5. Switch teams liberally.
6. Damned skink infestation - solve!
7. Pick up coffee on way home from SETI/PETA summit meeting.
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. Attend viewing of new out-patient 'six-fingered forehead' operation at Mayo C.
3. Head to Heinz, Inc. in PA.; get patent in for new spice to "bring chum to the masses."
4. Remove sheep from trunk.
5. Call vet about Pixel's flaming gas.
6. New curtains; Wal-Mart!
Today's To Do List:
1. Wake.
2. Board flight to London.
3. Solve Muffin-Badger case for Scotland Yard by 4:00 GMT.
4. Remember to call for refund re: yodel lessons.
5. Bake "Mr. Johnson."
6. Tap.
It is becoming easier to feel unwelcome on the planet. I care about my life today. I care about love today. I couldn't care less about money, or God's wrath ready to kill kill kill.
God will love me until he kills me, and all I wanted was a kiss.
I ate a sandwich.
I do not know what was in it.
It was pink.
And it smelled vaguely of fish, but not vaguely of something truck tire-ish.
I should remember to bring lunch with me.
I swear it moved.
Dreaming o' St. Patty's Day
After visiting the Irish towns of Ardfert, Ballybunion, Culleybackey, Dingle, Dripsey, Emmoo, Feakle, Fishguard, Knockaderry, Lack, Leap, Meentullynagarn, Muff, Newmarket-on-Fergus, Nutt's Corner, Oola, Rear Cross, Ringaskiddy, Screeb, Sneem, Spiddle, Spink, Stradbally, Tang and Tempo, I decided that I liked Ardfert the best. Definitely.
The talking manhole cover did not tell me to use my spittle and a finger to write THIS IS ONE GOOEY BUICK on the the window of that bank.
It told me to write THIS IS ONE GOOEY CHEVY.
Take a single die. Carefully remove all 21 dots and place them on a baking sheet pre-greased with rendered elk fat. After dipping its nose in your food dye mixture #1047 (off-crimson), take your camel and then, by slipping the camel repeatedly through the eye of a needle, splotch random patters onto the 21 dots. When each dot has had a satisfactory amount of off-crimson paint applied, bake in an autoclave for 40 minutes at 1300 degrees.
When the dots have cooled remove them from the autoclave, then carefully replace them on the die using small drops of the chum glue we prepared earlier. After the dots have cooled for 12 hours they will again be solidified to the die.
Now take the die and roll it as hard as you can against the base of whichever of the sides of your bathtub faces most due North. When the die comes to a stop, the red patterns in the dots will spell out the name of the best Presidential candidate for 2004.
(If the die rolls down the drain, then you've just predicted the future. Go sit down and have a beer. And make sure you've turned off your autoclave.)
Do you think God could fold a paper football so poorly that even He couldn't kick a field goal through my thumbs with it, like not even if He was sitting real close to me?
Makes one think, doesn't it.
Today is not February 15th. Today is one red blood cell spinning clockwise on the tip of a cow's eyelash, a gyroscope of DNA bouncing disco rubies too small to see into that big brown bovine gaze.
And you thought it was another plain old Sunday.
I've Seen It All and a Bag of Krispy Pork Knuckles
Q: When does a dive bar stop diving?
A: When it can't done dive no more.
I risked life and limb to enjoy Valentine's Day in the lurid confines of the bar down the street from my apartment. From the outside, friendly redneck ambience. Inside? Let's go inside.
Inside was a David Lynch wet dream. A black woman was onstage singing karaoke while men in cowboy hats slam-danced to the song. Oh, by the way, the song? The song was "MMM MMM MMM MMM" by the Crash Test Dummies. While I sat sipping my beer, I watched as the crowd sang along with the 5-inch high lyrics the karaoke machine was splaying across the 50-inch projection screen:
MMM MMM MMM MMM
MMM MMM MMM MMM
MMM MMM MMM MMM
MMM MMM MMM MMM
Huge applauds rose up when the song ended, the black woman shouted an expletive, and the next song began scrolling across the screen for a woman in a cowboy hat to sing:
Land of 1,000 Dances.
I said NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! EVERYBODY!
I opened my knee and found a spider inside. I opened the spider and found babies inside. I opened the babies and found mouths inside. I opened the mouths and found screams inside. I opened the screams and found fears inside. I opened the fears and found God inside. I opened God and found my body inside. I opened my body and found my knee inside.
Social Note
Dear Crazy Men I Have the Unfortunate Happenstance to Meet in Bar Bathrooms,
I will fight to the bitter end to defend your right to stand at the urinal next to mine and argue with your penis. It is, after all, either freedom of speech or freedom of religion. However, please -- and by "please" I mean "I will kill you if you do not" -- stop trying to get mine involved in the debate you are having with your penis over whether or not your lack of a foreskin is the reason you do not have a Valentine's date.
Thank you,
TM
Poodle flipping, poodle flipping, then some ball washing, rinsing and scrubbing rinsing and scrubbing, then back to poodle flipping, over and over, then to Pongo pooping, Pongo pooping, poodle flipping, and end my day with ball washing.
The 10th does not like being written about. Strange, that attitude, when it means double digits. But rent is coming, and rent's in double digits. Cop quotas on the highway, those are too. And bills, most bills are, too. The 10th, it would rather be part of 0-9, but you know only Christopher Clavius and Ben Franklin can really bend time like that. Sorry, 10th...it's not all your fault.
A porcupine trundled up to the futon, climbed up the matress using its razor sharp claws, leapt onto the back of the feverish man laying unconscious in a pool of sweat, mumbling and muttering, then gently inserted itself beneath the man's skin, beneath his muscles, right up against the man's organs, where it then began to writhe and gyrate in a rabid fit, is how this flu trying to kill me feels.
So a walnut, a peanut, and a rabbi are walking around Jackson Square in New Orleans. When they get to the Cathedral, a gay elephant standing on its rear legs playing an accordion sees them and approaches. So the elephant says, "My name is St. Louis!" Then as the swarm of bees comes flying out of the walnut, the rabbi says...
...oh, wait, I'm sure you've already heard this one a million times.
What upsets me is half of a planet-sized lemon squeezing itself over the desert where it did absolutely no good, when it could have done so over the Atlantic and made the cod and tuna taste so so good. But that's planet-sized half-lemon logic for ya.
i would just like you to know that a bottle of chianti, five beers, and a partridge in a pear tree later, I won. We all played Scrabble. Ironically, I won on the word 'detoxification.' Double triple word score. 261 points. Aw, yeah.
I was very disappointed that my box of surreal did not come with the promised toy contagious elephant soup dong box with the rotos of girdles and flotsam rings attached to each side by chartreuse non-ear substance of root then sugared.
I plan to call the Kellog's consumer hotline and file a complaint.
Can you show me where the yeti lives?
I found a map to his cottage inside this surreal box, but I had been hoping for a temporary tattoo permanently. So I took the map, which said "Go Phuket," and made my way to Thailand, where the next clue was on the bottom of the top aide's bottom, just beneath his left cheek, and it said "Go Alaska." Here in Alaska I didn't get into her walrus, not for lack of trying, but I did make it to the X on the map, where I found a blank patch of snow. The X on the map was yellow, and I'd had much beer, so I fulfilled the fallacy of the prophecy while emptying my bladder. It was then the large man arrived, covered in thick white fur! I asked, "Can you show me where the yeti lives?," and he replied "Sure."
But he didn't.
Editorial Correction to Texticity of 2/1/04:
The ticklish purple-silver thing following me around, it is not a comet.
It is a groundhog.
32-29
In honor of the Superbowl, I tried to crush a can on my forehead tonight.
However, as the can approached contact with the space above and between my eyes, my forehead opened, and universes spiraled out in coruscating whorls of energy and light that contained loud yet orgasmic sounds, a torrent of ejacular music comprised of every world language chanting in harmony, and with the cadence of an infinite child's laughter riding a comet of purple on ticklish silver the can was absorbed into my head like a dragonfly tumbling through an event horizon and well, poof, just like that, pedantic normalcy was restored...but for a singular small comet that follows me around now.