ABC Haiku Christmas

Still playing catch-up with our holiday themed weirdness.  Like so.

(pic from plasticrevolver)

A/B/C HAIKU CHRISTMAS!

Amazing presents
Before ripping them open
Cock-smear each to claim

Drafty mansion smells
Elegant decorations
Fruitcake poo all night

Great green globs of cheer
Habitate my sinuses
Icicle boogers

Just in time for gin
Kills the pain of heaving them
Loathsome is their sound

Murder most merry
No! You bastard! Don’t kill me!
O! Cruel Santa Claus

Palpatate, oh heart
Quiver with happy urges
Regurgitate love

Santa touched my stuff
“Thank you,” I told him. We smiled
Under the tree: Swag!

Vacant Christmas stares
Watching me with empty eyes
X-rays on my chest

Yellow snow is gross
Zeus versus Jesus: who wins?
Me, motherfucker

This piece of obligatory, offensive, purile and GENIUS art was actually done on Christmas Eve.  Yep, we went ahead and did Thursday Night Coffee on the most precious fucking night of the year.  I guess.

Honestly, it’s hard to pick my favorite here.  It’s tough competition between PQR & STU and the YZ* is freakin’ amazing… kinda.

-BRP

Gimme a beat!

(image: labanex)
the ABCs of Musicals We Want to Exist

(thankfully, they don’t – but we still think about them)

a)  ANIMAL!  The Musical!

b)  Berthold Brecht’s ‘BARBIE GIRL’

c)  CHILDREN OF THE CORN

d)  DUKES OF HAZZARD

e)  EASY-E: A Life In Song

f)  Fozzi Bear does ‘RENT’

g)  GRAPES OF WRATH

h)  HAMLET ON ICE

i)  INCONVENIENT TRUTH: TRUTH IN SONG

j)  JURASSIC PARK

k)  KLINGONS IN LOVE

l)  LEMURIAN DAYS, THULIAN NIGHTS

m)  MARS ATTACKS

n)  NIETZCHE! THE MUSICAL!

o)  OPTIMUS PRIME

p)  PUPPETRY OF THE PENIS – The Rock Opera

q)  Q: The Brain Behind Bond’s Gadgets

r)  RASPUTIN! The Man, The Mystery

s)  SADDAM HUSSEIN & FRIENDS!

t)  TITTIES! (how they’re awesome, why we love them & how they saved the world!)

u)  UNDERWORLD: ROCKS! ON ICE!

v)  VAMPIRELLA: DEAD SEXY

w)  WORLD WAR III (a musical history of the apocalypse, with dancing zombies)

x)  X-MEN

y)  YOUNG GUNS II

z)  ZEPPELIN: THE MUSICAL

If you’re like most people, you may wonder at some of these entries.  For example, why would you need/want a musical about Led Zeppelin?  Or a dirigible-zeppelin-balloon thingy?  Hell, you might not even know that ‘Puppetry of the Penis’ is a real book.

Wait.  If you’re really like ‘most people’, you wouldn’t be reading this…  Hm.  You must be a freaky deaky, crazy pants kinda person.  Good.  Carry on!

Oh, feel free to think of this as a ‘To-Do’ list.  In a world where ‘CARRIE: The Musical!‘ actually existed – however briefly – is one where all things are possible.

-brp

Thunder & Smoke

(image: NASA; public domain)

Listen to my thunder
Cherish silence
Kick, wham, pow!
Kiss, slap & tickle…
Punch, maim, strangle
My belly is full of love
I exude hate
Your love belly explodes with jiggly joy
Salmon are very good to their mothers
My salmon don’t need no baby daddy
The eagle is our sky mother
Brain monkeys love chlorine
Unintelligent mouse lemurs have intense dislike of fresh water
Creatively-inclined monster squids adore hot tubs
What’s that you’re doing?
This wasn’t my idea!
I’m always the one who comes up with stuff!
Do not go softly into that banana hammock
Thrust hard into life’s plush mattress!
Caress the dandy lion of death
Crack doesn’t count
Have you seen your butt on crack? It matters
Ass drugs are irrelevant to this conversation
Can you dance the Merengue in a space suit
You can dance if you want to, you can leave your friends behind
Be a wallflower at your foes’ party
If she smokes, she pokes!

Another new one – fresh off the cerebral cortex!  Or something.  This time it’s a patented blend of opposites and tangents, carefully formulated to make you go ‘WTF?’ – at least, it could be.

More soon.  Lots of catching up to do.

-BRP

DOWN is not the opposite of UP

I
I am
I am coming
I am coming back
I am coming backwards

HA! New posts coming soon.
-BRP

Back on track

I know there was a bit of a break there. Needed to save my energy for ZombiEaster (I’m stickin’ with that excuse). I’m back and we’ve got a backlog of stuff to post! Yikes! We will begin with… a story… an ABC story, that is!

At dawn, the boy set out for the canyon.
Before he left, he kissed his mother for the last time.
“Criminy!” he ejaculated, his eyes wide with shock.
“Did that really just happen?”
“Ew dammit, let’s… let’s pretend it didn’t.”
“For the love of all that is mayo, I don’t understand.”
“Great Gatsby, you don’t have to!” I yelled.
Had I whispered, it might have been lost in the roaring wind.
I gathered my courage and screamed at the top of my lungs.
Just as my voice reached the sky, it happened!
“KRAKOW! Krakow!” answered the murderous thunder.
Lightening crashed and unicorns danced!
Men cried out in fear of a unicorn horn through the heart.
No knight was strong of spirit enough to face the magic.
Occult powers are strong!
Please don’t strike me down with your doom machine.
Queen Amadala will avenge me!
“Rock on!”
“Shazam!” roared Shazam.
Then Shazam brought forth baby kittens.
Underestimate the baby kittens and bleed from the eyes.
“Vile,” she said, “How could anyone do such a thing?”
“With great pleasure,” he replied coyly.
“‘Xactly who do you think you’re addressing, boy?”
“You, sir. You.”
Zombies shambled about us, eating away our flesh, our words… our lives.

-the end

I’m not sure what it means, but I’m happy Shazam showed up (even though his name is ‘Captain Marvel’… sheesh!).

There were a whole bunch of other things we talked about. Mostly, I recall discussing the ZombiEaster film line up. There are two other amazing things though:

‘Jager-Schlager’: The man’s man’s manly drink of DOOM.

‘Milkgina’: I think that’s self-explanatory, thank you.

Cheers!

-BRP

Madness (with video!)

    This is a perfect example of some cross-dicordianism, right here.  We made the S.G., then I recorded (crappy) audio of it being read aloud and then I made a little video out of it.  I could say that it speaks to the power of decontextualisation and… uh, how the transliterative structure of, um, poetry carries with the seeds of radicalized thought… and stuff.  I could say that, but I won’t.

thirty-four seconds
This is dedicated to Hasselhoff.  And Teal.

-BRP

Conversation(s)

Why haven’t you called?
Service is necessary.
He brought us juice that wasn’t juice.
Ya know, chit-chat.
I do have suspenders.
Spelled, like, “G”, “O”, “U”, uh, “G”, “H”…
It’s a crackberry.
I think I caught him posing in the mirror.
Let’s go get something to eat.
I’m really gassy.
If you flex, will it get bigger?
I’m doing it, as soon as I have the money.
Can I have the ear?
It’s got skulls in it.
You’re not a religious man.
I didn’t even hear her.
You’re cut off – you’re done.
People always do this to me.
You’re lucky you even got one.
I’m so glad I was blacked out.
She’s just as annoying, drunk or sober.
She stays home.
Couldn’t blame him.
She does what now?
Quit camping.

So, there’s that. Fresh off the griddle, as they say – barely an hour old! It’s almost like being there, ain’t it? Perched high atop our unassailable aerie of smugness… Yup. This is dedicated to Alexandra; she knows why… mm-hm.

-BRP

Conspiracy java

The really nice thing about the conspiracy S.G. is that it takes advantage of the idea of connections. Sure, they’re probably just invented connections, but they get made nonetheless. Am I reading too much into this stuff again? Ooh, look – there’s a bunch of dirty words in this one…

Shari’s is a front for Juan Valdez
Who just happens to be the bastard child of J. Edgar Hoover
Whose secret files contained pictures of the real Yeti
While it was ass-raping Prime Minister Tony Blair
Who introduced perversion to surrealist games
Which are a cabalist tool for unlocking the true name of God
Who is really a greasy fry cook in St. Louis
Which is where Elvis is currently living
With Hitler, Jim Morrison and Tony’s Yeti
Who is actually Stacey’s mom

-BRP

We Are Going To Hell

We are going to hell
You are going to hell
You are going to fart
You are going to fart fire
You are going to fart a fire bomb
You are never going to fart a fire bomb
You are never going to fart a pork bomb
You are never going to fart a pork womb
You are never going to fuck a pork womb
You’re going to fuck a pork womb
You’re going to fuck a pork sandwich
You’re starting to fuck a pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit a pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit my pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit my pork dildo
Bastard, you’re starting to shit my pork dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to shit my dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to monkey-fuck my dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to smell my dildo!
Fuck, you’re starting to smell my dildo!
Why the fuck are you starting to smell my dildo?
Why the fuck are you smelling my dildo?
Why the fuck are you smelling my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are weasels smelling my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are there weasels in my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are there weasels in my baby jesus butt-plug?
Why the fuck is there a baby jesus butt-plug in my weasel?

I’m very excited about sharing this madness here. It requires a great deal of effort, to resist posting everything, all at once. But no, I’m strong, I’ll limit myself to no more than a few dozen posts per day – week! – I mean week. Yikes.

This is an older S.G., but one of my personal favorites. The “Add One, Change One” game is usually the easiest way to introduce people to this type of ‘art’. All I can really say about this piece is, this is the first one that really got under my skin. The effect was electrifying to me. Am I overstating it? I dunno – every time I read the damn thing, I start cackling like a madman. Hope you dig it.

-BRP

A Letter To William Shatner

Dear William Shatner,

Hello friend, I have spent many, many hours devoting my time and body fluids to your graven image. I was wondering if you’re willing to hear me beg for mercy – or we could dance by the tonsil trees and have pie, here… in my boudoir…

I dream often of your pearly beads of sweat, pooling in my closed eyelids. Suns rise and set, but our shared experience, fixed in Martha Gram’s womb, will remain forever. Do you recall the time when your hot muffin went missing in my back seat? What buttery fun! Oh, goodness yes. What a night of magic!

Let’s meet in Northern Mesopotamia and rock out, like ancient creatures of lore. But don’t forget to bring the table wax and badger meat.

Sincerely,

~the poor man’s algonquin table

This was one of our early attempts at a surreal letter. We ‘cheated’ a bit at the end there, with the signature. What’s up that ‘poor man’s algonquin table’? Well, it’d be really funny if you knew about the real Algonquin Table and the might of their assembled wit. And if you were Evan Dorkin (or the kind of person who remembers some of his most obscure comic strips), you’d feel a sort of sad pride. I think.

Seriously, though, William Shatner? He’s way cooler than I can describe. This letter is dripping with sincerity.

-BRP