I can’t differ differentiate the news and entertainment from grade B horror? It’s a problem! Should I scream now as loud as I can because the shadow of a rubber sausage tied to a cheap fishing pole is wiggling around the blank TV screen? Should I quaver with laughter if the old pie pans from grandma that nobody still uses show up in a Washington report? Is that the Black Lagoon or the House of Representatives? I am so sick of hearing about Hitler which doesn’t seem to disappoint AIPAC? The continuing minstrel show adventures of Jesse and Al chasing down the next mortally wounded gang-banger are no longer quaint. I am going to get rid of the two television’s that I own. Send up a smoke signal anyone! I want to give the frontier back to the Abernacki’s. I guess I am not that ‘hungry enough‘ either. All I can do is lay back and choke on my neighbor’s crack pipe as it’s toxic vapors pour through the seams of my apartment. Donald Trump cannot save me. I feel like I have already been fired. Who writes that crap anyhow? I lay awake from serial psycho dreams wondering if now with eight years of Obama and Bruce Jenner there really are ladies on Paris island? The mute television stares back at me in the dark like a frozen howl still caught in the back of the throat of that Ginsberg. I’ll take no more advice from my broker! A family of witch doctors just got relocated down the street!. They’ll be looking for body parts from the local children to make fresh Ju Ju for the upcoming election. I feel fetters tying me down and my flesh being ripped to expose my liver for the daily meal by a celestial eagle. No, it’s a rat! I’ll take Baba Ganoosh with my chicken wings please! And a side of Mafuco. That deep ocean trench in the Mariana’s has some land possibilities for retirement. I’ll have to have the souvenir severed heads delivered from the Middle East by DHL Bathyscope. I have to press my girlfriend’s Chador! When can I be kidnapped by some advanced form of life that has superior intelligence? They must still be busy waiting for the first episodes of the 1936 Berlin Olympics to reach their star. The Teletubbie’s are massing around my covers in the room’s shadows demanding that I pray to a false Liberal god! I don’t vote Democratic! The is what I get for not watching Deep Space Nine instead of Star Trek Voyager episodes all those years ago! Jar Jar Binks is coming to my house tonight to bake cookies. If their is life after death, I think I can finally figure out where I ended up? It’s beginning to feel a lot like Springtime in Hell!
Springtime In Hell