i used to write poems down on paper with a pencil
now, thanks to technology, i utilize the computer to make things easier.
it goes like this: i find a place to plug in, open the computer,
wait for the start up, enter my password, open the browser,
enter the password for the WIFI, connect to the router,
connect to the satellite in outer space, the web comes online,
navigate to my poetry, and begin to read them just before
the host at the local poetry reading says, 'i'm sorry, we're
out of time.'
future poems are much easier. now i don't even have to read them. nobody has time for that...in the future.
in lillian's music store, a local watering hole, i overheard the bartender saying, "the man is so white, he shits white." i thought that would make a good title for a book.
THE YELLOW GORILLA
all the gorillas hated the yellow gorilla. 'look at him,' one said, 'he just stands out like a lit match. we gotta' do something about this. it's embarrassing to our species. people will think we're fags.'
the yellow gorilla replied, 'that's hate speech. i'm calling the ACLU!' then the yellow gorilla went into the woods to find a phone but ended up spontaneously masturbating until he forgot the incident. the other gorillas forgot the incident as well until the yellow gorilla returned and the same thing happened again. this has been going on for about three years now.
DON'T YOU THINK YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH COFFEE?
stan pladinsky had consumed his forty-fifth cup of coffee at the Maude's cafe. his friend, mugsy, asked him, "don't you think you've had enough coffee?"
stan replied, "FUCKOFF FUCKFACE AHHHHHH GOOOOOD KILLLLL MEEEEEEE ASSHOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLE!" and then he said, 'yes.'
REDNECK BUBBA AND THE SHRIMP INCIDENT
one day, redneck bubba was at the assbackwards kitchen dinner palace hut and had finally decided what it was he wanted to eat.
"what choo want, r-bubba?' said redneck chlora.
"look here, woman, you's ta bring me a mess of them there fried shrimps and a fist-o-beer. and hurry to it, cause i'm about to fart diarrhea outta my pighole."
"we ain't got no shrimps today. cletus ain't been to the shrimp pond this week. alls we got is sow balls."
"i ain't eatin' no gaddam sow balls. i been eaten so many sow balls i'm startin' ta think i was in that 'crusin' movie with al pacino. gimmie dem shrimp."
"i done told you, r-bubba, we ain't got none. we got sow balls. you want them? good. you want shrimp? we ain't got none."
"now look here, woman. you's gonna' find me something back there that makes me think i'm eatin' shrimp, or i'm gonna blow my pighole right here on the table. now what's it gonna' be, darlin?"
redneck chlora shot redneck bubba a dirty glance, and then made off to the kitchen to find a suitable replacement entree. there on the floor of the kitchen were little turds that the mascot chihuahua, hotdog, put down the day before. 'them look like shrimp,' redneck chlora said. she plated them up with a mung sauce and a fresh piece of cactus garnish, and brought the plate to redneck bubba."
"what'd you find in there that'll make me think i'm eatin' skrimps?" said redneck bubba.
"dog turds," replied redneck chlora.
"that'll be fine," said redneck bubba. and he ate everything on his plate, including the tails, and then blew a diarrhea-loaded power fart right through his denims onto the wall behind him. 'that there's a modern art masterpiece,' said redneck chlora. 'you gotta' sign that thing.' so redneck bubba went over and pulled his dick out and traced out his name in the poop.
three years later, it sold at Southby's for eleven million dollars. it might not have made such a stir in the art circles except for the fact that the best contemporary art for making money is controversial shock art with religious overtones.
redneck bubba's 'pighole shrimp christ' now hangs in the louvre next to michelangelo's 'death of the virgin' and Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres' 'oedipus and the sphinx' which, in 1808, was itself considered a giant piece of shit.