i was listening to NPR the other day
a writer for the new yorker
telling the world about how precious he is
waht a miracle his thoughts are
how he cant stop them and never knows what form they will take
that the genisis for his latest work came to him on the crapper
and he had to get up quickly
without wiping
so as to save this precious thought before it dissipated into nothingness
and the world was robbed of this latest burst of creativity
thank god for poor hygeine
i mean
that essay
in the last new yorker
about the ironic similarities
between the greek word for bagel
and the yiddish word for anal sex
it had to be explored
trees had to die to print this specific observation
humanity needs its diversions
otherwise we would focus on the horror of existence
and wince every time we turned on a light
curling up in a fetal ball of futility
so in this country we divert our attentions from the suffering of others
while those who suffer divert their attnetion from the growling of thier distended stomachs
trying to cheer themselves up with a little song as the lesions take over
telling funny stories as the miltitants advance on their hiding place

and you cant do shit about it because evil is so firmly entrenched

unless you want to be a marrtirrr
and give it all up for your cause
waht if the sooey side balm-ers have it right?
that the only soul-ution in an insane world is an insane act?
so their aim is a little off
but they cant get on a plane to dee cee now can they?
so they take it out on the local enemy instead of the root of ee vowel
of course even thinking this way is a thoughtcrime
so to disguise it from the many guvmintfilteringandsearchprograms one has to resort to creative spelling and such
otherwise they kick in your door
and you are never heard from again
their fingerprint "experts" tieing you to a dead hooker
and then the tragic knifing in the jailhouse
i wish my thoughts were as precous as the dude from the new yorker
but i didnt graduate from harvard
i dont have the proper connections and credentials
i cant even write a real sentence anymore
so my thoughts are just a waste of synaptic energy
so i try to kill them
with booze
but the surviving brains cells are embittered by the attmept on their lives and become even more vile machines of pure hate and pessimism
except in those magical sunny moments when all is right in the world
sunny and shiny
manic bursts of energy in which possibilites are there for the taking
paths which when followed could lead to sustained and enduring happiness
but who needs that shit
you have to laugh off the success thoughts
because the world will still suck mightily
and even when you are mega rich like bill gates and feeling guilty you are still throwing tiny spitballs at the problems of the world
suffering is the real human condition
if you aint suffering, you aint living
if you aint suffering, you are fucking someone over
fucking someone over every time you use electricity
or start your car up
fucking over the word with each plastic baggie you wrap your kids macrobiotic lunch in
with every flush sending eight gallons of choline death into the water system
you ever put a fish into philly tap water?
the fucker dies
and philly tap water is supposedly "good"
i guess the amish will need body guards now
maybe thats my future
amish security services, INC.
ASS INC.
at your service
move out into lancaster county
observe the amish like jane goodall did with the gorillas
slowly getting closer and closer to them until they accept me into the geurilla troop
socially grooming one another
we pick nits from each others scalps and brush each others back hair
once accepted into the troop i introduce rugby to the amish
soon they are a world rugby power
but they only play home games
or games withing a three hour buggy ride